Dates With Marco

We kissed on the first date. I didn't expect it, nor did I want it. But it felt nice.

His personality seemed strange to me then; even still I wonder if he is real. He took me to a windmill in the middle of the valley. It was after sundown and we had to drive down a few a few dark roads to get there. After we arrived, he leaned against the fence with his back towards the windmill. It was quiet, save for the sound of the rushing water; and the air was brutally chill that night. He pulled me close to him and ran his hands up and down my shoulders. Being too shy, and not wanting to make this a very physical date, I kept my head down and let it lean against his chest. When I finally got the courage to look up at him, he smiled then gave me an eskimo kiss, nuzzling the tip of my nose with his nose. Never having experienced an eskimo kiss before, I laughed at the cheesiness of it. Mid-laugh, he does it again, this time ending it with a light peck on my lips. I pulled away a little; not because I didn't like it, but because I didn't want him to think I wanted more. I didn't want to want more.

What are you thinking about?

Nothing

, I say avoiding eye contact. It's our second date and he has taken me to a nearby castle. It's early in the morning and we are standing on top of a tower, scanning the town below.

Why won't you look at me?

I don't know...you make me nervous

, I reply. He moves closer to me and cradles my right cheek with his left hand. He leans in and kisses me. More deeply than our first date, but still gentle.

You are so shy.

It's our third date. Confused at the amount of attention he is showing my face, I sit quietly until he finally kisses me again. He does this from time to time, tracing the lines on my face. It was strange at first...he never attempts to touch me in 'those' places or makes a move as if he wants to go further. He shows the most interest in my facial features; with his middle finger he starts at my temple, runs it down my cheek, across my jawline, around my lips, then up and down the bridge of my nose.

Shh. Just close your eyes. Don't think about anything

.

It's almost midnight and we are parked at the edge of the woods far away from town. He wanted to go to his place, but I refused out of respect for his parents.

I feel like such a schoolgirl...making out in a parked car.

He laughs.

I told you we could go to my home but you don't want

, he says as he starts to kiss my neck. I'm more comfortable with him and his affections. And I can tell he is more comfortable with me. Though his kisses are more passionate, they never stray below my collarbone. He pecks my forehead, my nose, my eyelid, and that tender spot behind my ear. After an hour or so of him drawing my face with his lips, I decide to show him the same attention. I lean in and kiss his neck, directly below the square of his jaw. I feel his body stiffen and I assume he doesn't like it. I pull away barely, running the tip of my tongue up to his earlobe to kiss it, thinking most men like to have their earlobes kissed. He lets out a loud moan and grips my thigh so hard it hurts.

What are you doing this weekend?

I have just come back from a 10-day holiday in Danta di Cadore and was eager to see him; only to find out he had already left back to his university in Padova.

No plans

, I respond to his message.

Want to come to Padova?

He meets me at the train station early that Saturday morning. Even though I have only been in Italy a little over two months, I was starting to feel the cold dread of loneliness and a merciless desire for romance. I couldn't wait to be with him and all his odd affections. However, I was embarrassingly disappointed to only meet the intellectual side of him that day. We walked around for hours while he showed me every place of historical significance in Padova. He talked with such charming enthusiasm about all the past philosophers, intellects, and artists that had passed through the city, that I was more than ashamed at wanting nothing more than for him to hold my hand while walking me through the park.

After hours of old churches, bustling markets, and a large botanical garden, we went to his home to rest until it was time to meet his friend for dinner. He hadn't been affectionate towards me all day so I had come to the conclusion that he wanted nothing but companionship for the moment...and that was fine. More than anything, he is great company and it was nice to be around someone my age for a change. I sit on his bed and before I could take off my shoes he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me...hard.

What's the matter?

Nothing

, I say after finally breaking away to breathe. He lifts my legs over his lap and leans in to kiss me again. I lay back as he starts planting kisses from my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone. As usual, he doesn't go any further.

No.

We had been making out for some time now; him leaning over me, and my legs still draped across his lap. He had started nuzzling the front of my shirt with his nose and began to lift up the hem when I stopped him.

Why not? I just want to kiss your stomach.

He proceeds to lift my shirt up slowly, pushing aside my fingers and ignoring their weak attempt to deter him. He lifts the hem just above my belly button, while placing his lips just below it.

He hovers mostly, but the moments his lips touch my skin send shivers through my legs. As he proceeds further down he reaches his hand towards my face and covers my mouth. Just as I grab his wrist, he kisses the inside of my knee. My hand falls back at my side as he kisses it again, but further up. He kisses up and down the inside of my thigh. I moan and I twist but he doesn't continue any further. He moves to the other thigh; placing kisses so hard and so wet that my tights start to stick to my skin...and I moan and I twist, but he doesn't continue.

Good girl.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching him undress. It's almost time for us to meet his friend for dinner, but he wants to take a shower first. He takes off his shirt and everything starts to slow down. I am insanely attracted to him. From his milky tan skin to his Eastern-European features, he had lines and angles that could only be descendent of some Serbian god. I look at my phone...it's taking a great deal for me not to grab him, kiss him, and suggest we stay inside. I try and focus on some random app but I'm still distracted. He unbuckles his belt. I squeeze my phone. He pulls the belt from out the loops and the sound it makes causes me look up just as his pants hit the floor.