Chapter 3
Leaving Bavaria, I headed east over the border to Salzburg, Austria. I spent a few days there, attending a Mozart concert and seeing the sights. Classical music wasn't what I usually listened to, but I enjoyed the 'classics', and you couldn't go to Salzburg without listening to the maestro. Over the next week, I meandered through Austria and Northern Italy, eventually arriving in Venice. I was delighted with my choice of car; it was powerful and handled like a dream, and I could cruise with the top down, enjoying the sun as well as the wind ruffling my hair. The routes and stops I'd chosen so far have also been excellent.
I booked into a good hotel, intending to stay for five nights to leisurely explore as much of Venice as possible at my own pace. It was a beautiful city, as I'd expected, and with the help of the hotel staff, I planned the next four days so as not to miss anything. I'd not been successful with any hook-ups since my stay in Bavaria. Opportunities had certainly been there, but none had felt 'right'. While one-night stands were certainly enjoyable, somehow, their appeal was lessening. Perhaps I needed more emotional involvement than I'd realised to fully enjoy sex? At least with Framke and Agnes, I saw them over a number of days and could spend some quality time with them, as well as the insanely hot sex.
On my second day there, I hired a gondola and relaxed as they took me around the canals to see the sights. The gondolier was obviously very knowledgeable and, as I spoke fluent Italian, was more than happy to explain the history as we went up and down the canals. I was sitting at the front, looking backwards, and as we traversed one canal, I noticed a tour group towards the side. I gasped, as towards the rear of the group was the most stunning woman I'd ever seen in my life. Both in person, online or on screen. She was tall, possibly nearly six feet tall, slim, with legs that went on forever, joining at a pert, apple-shaped bottom. The dress she wore clung to her curves from her mid-thigh over that wonderful bottom, slim waist and curved outwards to breasts that should look too large for her frame, but on this goddess looked just right. Topping it was the face of an angel, hair so fair it was almost white and neatly tied and flowing over her bare back. She was wearing red lipstick but didn't appear to have much other makeup on, and she didn't need it. I was too far away to see the colour of her eyes, but as we moved further, she looked in my direction and smiled. The gondolier saw my expression, glanced to the side and quietly whistled in appreciation.
"Mamma Mia!" he exclaimed. "È bellissima!"
As a building hid her from our view, I finally found my voice.
"Wow, I agree! She was truly beautiful!"
For the rest of that day and all the next, I hoped to bump into her to no avail. The chances she was single were minuscule anyway, but a man can dream! On the morning of my last full day in Venice, I received a call from my solicitor. He had verbally agreed on a settlement of nearly £1m from my previous employer for unfair dismissal, loss of future earnings and reputational damage to me. It was much more than I'd expected, so I agreed he could proceed. I would need to sign some papers, and I advised him of my plans over the next fortnight in Italy so they could courier them to my hotel in Rome.
Strolling around the city in a great mood, I had an overpriced lunch in St Mark's Square, watching the other tourists mingling and gazing at the buildings, before continuing my tour. Standing on one of the numerous bridges, I ate an ice cream and watched the world go by. Emerging from under the bridge came a gondolier. At the front were a man and two women, one of whom was the goddess I'd seen earlier that week. They were chatting, with the man enthusiastically indicating points of interest to them. Aphrodite, for it couldn't have been anyone else, looked up at me and smiled again. I stared transfixed back at her until my ice cream fell off the cone with a splash into the water below. The woman smirked at my gormlessness, and they were soon gone from view again.
I chuckled to myself. I would say it was love at first sight if I were still a teenager, but I certainly wouldn't forget someone as beautiful anytime soon. Unfortunately, my time was now up in Venice. It was a city I had enjoyed visiting and would certainly like to revisit. From Venice, I drove down the east coast of Italy, stopping numerous times before heading west, over the central mountains to Rome.
I spent a few days in Rome looking at the numerous ancient sites, and it made me think of Serapha again. She would have been born before many of these were built, which was difficult to comprehend. It also made me ponder how I would have any meaningful relationships. Would I have a succession of short flings? That would soon lose its appeal, I thought. Could I trust someone to understand and keep it a secret that I would not age very fast? Would I want to remain with someone as they aged, and I didn't? Was that shallow of me? Yes, probably, but also undoubtedly true. While in Rome, I signed the papers from my solicitor and then travelled north to Florence and Pisa before turning west towards France and Spain.
So far, I'd spent two months on my travels and only had one more before I needed to leave the EU. I had planned to take a quick tour of Spain and possibly Portugal if time allowed before heading north through France to Calais, but I would have to cut out Portugal and most of Spain for another time. Heading towards Monaco for my next stop, I pulled into a rest stop on the road. The deserted rest area had about twenty parking bays, several picnic tables and a small toilet block. It was late in the evening, and the sun was starting to set. Pisa had taken more of my time than I'd imagined, so I had left later than planned. I phoned the hotel to inform them I would be late and used the stop to go to the toilet.
As I returned to my car, a small, Spanish-registered Citroen C1 drove in, sounding like a box of spanners, and parked. Steam hissed from the bonnet as it stopped, and a young woman jumped out and swore. I had to pass her to get to my car, so I asked if I could do anything to help. It was not that I was mechanically minded, but I felt I should offer. As she went to open the bonnet, I warned her not to, in case she scolded herself. Thanking me and calling herself an idiot not to think of that, she put her hands on her hips and looked at her car in annoyance.
"Do you have breakdown cover?" I asked her.
That spurred her into action, and she found the number and called them.
"Shit!" she exclaimed. "Number ninety in the bloody queue!"
I did not want to leave her alone with a broken-down car in the middle of nowhere, especially as it would soon be dark, so I suggested she sit in my car while we waited for them to answer.
"Why don't you take a photo of me and my car with the registration and send it to someone?" I suggested to her as she considered the wisdom of getting into a stranger's vehicle.
Disconnecting her call, the young woman took my photo and sent it to her mother with a message saying what had happened. Then she climbed into the passenger seat and redialed the breakdown service. She was now eighty-eighth in the queue, so she put her phone on loudspeaker so she didn't have to hold it.
While we waited, we introduced ourselves to each other. Her name was Yasmin, and she had been visiting her father in Italy. He was Spanish but had moved to Italy after he had split up with her mother ten years ago. Her mother was French-Algerian and lived in the Pyrenees on a small holding in the middle of nowhere. Yasmin herself had long brown hair and a pretty face. She was slim with small, possibly B-cup breasts. She had a very bubbly personality and could talk for Spain, if not the whole of Europe!
We had been chatting for nearly an hour when her call was eventually answered. Yasmin explained where we were and what had happened and was told a breakdown truck would be sent to her. Somehow, after she'd put the phone down and we resumed our conversation, she had me telling her of my travels, and I'm not sure how, but also the hook-ups I'd had. Before I knew she'd done it, she was getting me to tell her in detail about Framke, Agnes and Harmony. Each time I tried to change the subject, she would pump me for more information and wouldn't take no for an answer. She would make an extremely good interrogator if she wanted to be! It was two more hours before the breakdown truck arrived, so all my exploits since my trip started had been shared by the time it arrived. They couldn't fix her car but could tow it to a garage near where she lived with her mother. She already knew I was travelling along the south coast of France and then down to Barcelona, and before I knew it, she had invited herself along with me. She was great fun, and from her frequent glances towards my groin, probably more than happy to share my bed tonight, so I had no objection to her accompanying me.
Resuming my journey to Monaco, now with a chatty companion, we quickly passed her little car on the back of the breakdown truck and headed into the night, arriving very late in Monaco after stopping en route for something to eat. After confirming she was happy to share my room, we retired upstairs.
After entering, Yasmin excused herself to use the bathroom while I unpacked. I was staying in Monaco for a few nights before moving on, and Yasmin wasn't rushing to get home.
"Now," she said after emerging from the bathroom and wrapping her arms around my neck. "Let's see if these exploits of yours are true!"
"How about a shower together first?" I asked her. "I'm hot and sticky from the road and could do with a wash."
We quickly striped off and entered the shower, Yazmin's eyes growing wide as saucers when my nine-inch cock came into view. We hugged, fondled and soaped every part of each other's bodies, learning every contour and crevice. I then carried her to the bed once we were suitably clean and fairly dry.
I started, as I often did, by going down on her and eating her pussy. I'd found penetration was much easier and less painful for the woman after I'd made them extremely wet and aroused, and I also adored the taste of a woman as she orgasmed. Yvette was a very willing recipient of my tongue's travels, guiding me to where she wanted me to explore next and telling me in graphic detail what she felt. Sex was clearly something she was familiar with, and she knew what she wanted, and she wasn't shy in asking, which was fine by me.
