Carla
The hotel bedroom was shades of white, and white was the colour of the T-shirt she was wearing. I pulled it slowly over her head as she lay on the huge white bed and slipped it off to uncover a plain white bra she didn't really need to restrain her small firm breasts.
It was my first summer in Milan, and it seemed a long way from Sheffield. I was there to learn Italian; she was studying industrial design and was there on a work placement. We had been seeing each other for a few weeks but this was our first time together. It wasn't exactly planned, not that anything about our relationship had been planned. Just before I came out to Italy I had sort-of broken up with my girlfriend (who might or might not still be there for me when I got back, it was complicated) so I didn't consider myself to be on the market. But all that changed when Carla came into my life.
It was love (or lust) at first sight. Not that Carla was what I'd have called my type: short, gamine, dark-haired with soulful brown eyes -- very Italian. What she saw in me I'll never know. We met in a random bar; I was feeling lonely and a bit homesick and thought I would try and find some of this
dolce vit
a that was supposed to be about. She was with a girlfriend and in the ordinary way I'd just have left her alone but there was something about her. She caught me looking at her a couple of times and I looked away, embarrassed. But when the girlfriend finished her drink and left, Carla hung around, even though her glass was almost empty.
I told myself I was just practicing my Italian and asked her if she'd like a drink. She hesitated long enough for me to convince myself that I'd said the wrong thing, and then she accepted.
So we'd been on a few sort-of dates, we'd had lunch a couple of times, we'd been to the cinema, and then some actual dates, there'd been a little necking. Tonight we'd been for dinner at a place she recommended and maybe had too much to drink and she'd asked me shyly back to her room. I wasn't going to say no. We'd never done much more than kiss, not for want of trying on my part. I knew the hotel where she was staying but had never been invited in: a swanky modern place bang in the centre of town, well beyond most people's budget, but her family were loaded so I guessed they were paying for it.
I discarded my own shirt and we lay together for a while, kissing and enjoying the closeness of our bodies. She kissed me back with enthusiasm and abandon, caressing my neck and shoulders. I unhooked the bra and she raised her arms to let me slide it off. Her soft olive skin was a shade paler underneath. There was a dark fuzz of hair under her upraised arms.
I had been obsessed with her breasts for a long time. She'd sometimes let me stroke them through her clothing, and I'd had the odd glimpse when she was wearing a low-cut top, but this was the first time I'd seen them in all their glory. They were lovely, pear-shaped and yielding to the touch. I gave them a lot of attention with my mouth and finger, especially the tender undersides. Her nipples were small and dark, and when I sucked on them gently she gave a little moan of pleasure. I'd never known her let herself go like this. It was incredibly exciting.
She was wearing loose black trousers of some soft material and they pulled down easily to expose the tops of her thighs. She raised her neat little backside to help. Underneath she had white panties with a pink love-heart embroidered on the front. I had to smile: so Carla. A few dark pubic hairs were sneaking enticingly out of the waistband.
I caressed the hot satin skin of her inner thighs and she sighed with pleasure. Then I very gently placed a fingertip at the tip of the love-heart, and was rewarded with a soft gasping cry. I began to move my finger in slow little circles.
"Yes, like that. Just there."
I kissed her neck, and the place just behind her ear which I knew was sensitive. Carla was panting hard. She began to buck her hips a little in time with my movements. Soon she was tossing her head from side to side on the pillow. I could feel her body tensing.
"Mother of God, I'm coming!"
I'd dreamed so often of making her come. She cried out, and her fingernails dug into my shoulders. It was intoxicating.
I stood up and shed the rest of my clothes. Carla watched me through sleepily half-closed eyes, naked but for her pink ankle-socks and the little white love-heart panties.
"I don't have a condom
,"
I admitted sheepishly.
"
Don't worry, I've got a coil."
I didn't quite understand what she said -- Carla's from the south, and I was still having trouble with her accent -- but I got the gist of it. I was surprised: she'd always been so demure that I had half-expected her to be a virgin. Relieved as well.
Quickly I rejoined her and slid the panties down her legs. She kicked them away.
"I'm so wet for you."
She was too, visibly so. Her bush was full and inviting, the lips of her sex a rich dark pink like a damask rose. I couldn't remember ever having been so hard. I was almost shaking. Carla raised her knees in the classic gesture of invitation: no language barrier there.
She grunted softly when I slid into her. She was so soft and hot and welcoming. I didn't dare to move in case I came right there and then.
"Y
ou feel so good
,"
I whispered. I wanted to tell her she had a beautiful cunt, but my Italian wasn't up to it. You never get the words you really need in phrase-books.
"You too. Fuck me, my darling."
Finally I began to move, slowly, desperate to last, wanting her to enjoy every second as much as I was. Carla's little sounds of pleasure were a more powerful turn-on than any porn-star screaming could have been. It was so intimate, for my ears only. Her face was incredibly expressive -- I already knew and loved that about her -- and now she was sexier than ever, squirming under me, every stroke acknowledged with a soft mewing sigh and a squeeze of her fingers on my upper arms. It was too much.
"
Shit," I said in English, and then in Italian: "I can't hold it."
"
It doesn't matter. Fill me."
And I did: a scalding hot orgasm that seemed to go on forever. I was ashamed and relieved at once.
"
I'm sorry."
"
I told you, it doesn't matter. It was lovely."
I stayed in her. We kissed some more. She began stroking my back.
"
That's nice."
After a little while I started to get hard again. She gazed into my eyes.
"
My God. You stallion."
"
You have that effect on me."
She giggled. When other women giggled I found it annoying: somehow it was just sweet when she did it.
"
I want to make you come,"
I said.
"
Yes."
I began to move steadily, pulling almost all the way out, pushing all the way in. Carla began to move with me, sighing with each thrust as she had before. She wrapped her legs around me and I could feel the slight roughness of her socks against my calves.
"
Does it feel good?"
"
Fantastic
,"
she said. "Don't stop."
So I kept going, not varying the pace. I raised myself a little so that I could go a little deeper, and so I had space to caress her breasts. As soon as I grazed a nipple she cried out softly.
"
Darling. Too much."
"
You want me to stop?"
"Oh God. I love it."
I knew she was starting to get close again from the way she breathed, the increasing urgency of her movements. She turned her head this way and that as I began to go harder. Her cries grew louder, more staccato.
"
You're so beautiful,"
I murmured. "So sexy. Come for me."
"I'm close."
"I know."
"
Faster. Oh my God yes, yes, yes..."
Her second climax was even lovelier than the first. I could feel her insides clamping and relaxing, over and over. She collapsed beneath me, breathless, her face flushed and glistening.
"
You darling,"
she murmured. "That was fantastic."
Still hard, I pulled out of her reluctantly and rolled over beside my lover. I felt exhausted and triumphant and blissfully happy. Carla snuggled into me. She touched my cock, hesitantly at first, then stroking it with greater confidence as I sighed with pleasure.
"
He's beautiful,"