An Italian Adventure

Rome and The roof top terrace -- a world adventure

Part 1

The terrace feels gorgeous in the night air as I look across the table at Cathy in her new white dress so perfectly displaying the tan gathered across our many weeks since leaving the UK.

The dress was bought today in a local boutique, and it not only captures that tan but also the shape truly accents her breasts into a wonderful bra-less cleavage. Firm and shaped, they look spectacular under the night light even though we've been together years I still find it hard to take my eyes off them tonight. Noticing my gaze, she crosses her legs and there's a glimpse of stockings. I look up and smile.

She laughs and slowly uncrosses her legs again, slower this time, parting them to make sure I see the whiteness of the matching silk panties she'd also bought.

"I thought you'd like the view," she laughs before taking a sip from the glass of the wine we'd brought up from the bar.

"it's very gorgeous of you to think of me," I answer.

"Well, I also thinking of myself as well," she replies

"After all, I've a job for you later that only something very firm and hard that will do. What I'm wearing, or not, might help you along."

Laughing we return to talking about the day's journey down through Italy to this terrace in the night air of Rome.

The terrace is beautifully lit with soft lights and it's a gentle light, creating an ambiance which doesn't intrude.

The waiter appears from the lift to the now empty terrace before making his way over to where we order more drinks. Standing over our table he looks about and notes we have the whole terrace to ourselves tonight and if we need another order to wave at the camera over the lift and he'll bring them up.

As he talks, I note his eyes wander over her cleavage, so casually and innocently displayed. He makes more small talk in very good English, the sort of accented version English women find so lovely with his young, tanned face, black hair, and clothed in white shirt and dark trousers, with top buttons undone to show a hairless chest.

She murmurs appreciatively at his compliment about her dress as he comments she looks "spettacolare," which needs no translation at all really, before adding

"With Sir's permission may I add a further compliment?" I smile and nod.

"In Italian we would truly say siete molto bella, se posso dirlo, signora, which means you are very beautiful if I may say."

She smiles and touches her face looking down. Looking back up at him, seconds later, she crosses her legs, slowly, surely, as he stands looking. His eyes don't miss the movement.

Leaving us to the night with refilled glasses from the bottle on the table, he reminds us to wave at the camera if we need anything and half an hour later, I wave.

Five or ten minutes later we hear the lift bing on its arrival as Cathy's slides her skirt higher to reveal just a hint of stocking top, smirking at me.

Crossing the terrace to where we sit, he smiles.

"A bottle of wine, for you madame, and for you sir," as fresh glasses clink onto the table while his eyes appreciatively slide over the legs on display. His view obviously stops at a hint of stocking top, lingering, before looking at me, smiling.

"You are a very lucky man Sir," he says.

"I reply, this is Cathy and I am Jon."

He reaches for her hand bending to kiss it gently,

"I know your names sir as I checked the register so I may better serve you. And I am Tommaso, I'm the night porter."

"For you madame, from Roma."

His head lingers low to kiss her hand staring straight down in a closeup view of her stocking top as he presses his lips onto her hand. I notice her leg's part ever so slightly as he kisses her.

Cathy smiles and laughs sweetly, thanking Tommaso before she slides forward in the chair to reach for the glass, causing her skirt to ride up ever so slightly to reveal just a little more stocking top. And she knows perfectly well what she's doing, so good is she at the game. His eyes don't miss it.

Departing, he waves towards the lift camera telling us how he's on reception on his own and to wave if we need more drinks, and he'll bring them up.

As he leaves, I tell her I love it when she messes, sitting in pubs showing legs, stocking tops, a touch of suspender strap, cleavages, teasing the men around or walking past as I describe how they're looking and responding. It's a game we play as she doesn't look at them directly when she's playing which often makes them braver to look.

It's the same when we are in hotels on daye nights, leaving the curtains open as she dresses and undresses, day or night. Of making love with the curtains open at night with the lights on in those same rooms. Several times over the years ground floor hotel rooms have attracted lurkers watching.

Often, I video our date nights at the chosen hotels with car parking right outside ground floor rooms, making sure it captures the windows in the hope of a face watching. And it has happened several times. After all, the way we think about is if they want to peek through windows that's fine as sometimes, we simply 'forget' it's the ground floor.

The idea of the lift camera comes up and she wonders how well it covers the roof terrace before, suddenly, slipping straps off her shoulder and slowly pulling the front down slowly to reveal the perfect pert breasts. She reaches for her glass and takes a long sip before placing it on the table.

I feel a twinge in my groin as I look at her and the thought of the camera. Slowly she pulls the top back up and the straps back onto her shoulders before reaching for the glass of wine again which soon disappears. My shaft starts to stretch further as she pulls her dress up over her legs before parting them. And a lovely prominent view she shows me as well, a perfectly shaped easily identifiable valley beneath the lacy whiteness. Indeed, I know her shape intimately as so much time have been spent with my head and tongue there.

Her fingers tease herself through the material before dropping the skirt back in place while asking,

"Do you think he's watching? You're in front of me blocking the camera view, but it'll be fun! Shall we?"

"No idea really if he's watching he could be busy."

"Come here.....," she says reaching for me.

Climbing out of my chair I cross the small space between us as she reaches for my crutch, rubbing along the rapidly stiffening outline of my shaft. I take a sip of my wine from the glass still in my hand.

Slowly I feel the zip being drawn down as her other hand reaches for the buttons on the waist band, undoing them. My shaft hardens further, ready, firm, hard, throbbing. I feel her pull me forwards to where she sits, legs opening, pulling me between them, my crutch inches from her face.

Looking down I see her open legs have pulled the skirt wide, sliding it up her legs, revealing stockings and bare flesh as her hand eases my hardness into the night air. Glistening, it stands erect, her right hand reaching for the shaft to stroke along its length. Squeezing the glans, lubricant oozes on her for fingers to spread down as she breathes on the glans inches from her mouth.

Finding my testicles she cups them gently as her thumb and index circle behind where they hang and I feel her pull them downwards, pulling the foreskin all the way down the shaft to fully expose the glans. She eases me forwards by my balls as her mouth opens to receive me. Warmth engulfs me as her hands circle my body to rest on my buttocks, urging me to begin rhythmic movements in and out of her sweet parted lips.

My hands slip the dress straps off her shoulder before reaching for her breasts, sliding my hands down the dress front to cup them. My fingers find her nipples already erect and eager for my touch. My hips rock quicker as she excites me doing such things in public, turning me on that, accidently, we might be watched from reception on their CCTV. Even from behind an obscured view there can be no doubt what she is doing.

I know we don't care now as it'll be all an innocent accident even if he is watching. I wonder if he's hard right now seeing my back to the camera but knowing exactly what she is doing to me, or if he masturbates watching.

She continues sucking and licking the head before sliding her mouth down the shaft to my balls, sucking the right one into her mouth. I nearly cum as she sucks it gently, feeling the twitch, I watch precum force its way out. Fighting the urge to ejaculate, her mouth quickly moves to the less sensitive left one which finds a home inside her warm mouth.

My shaft glistens she releases the testicle to travel back up the shaft while her left hand reaches for her own, undoubtably, gathering moistness. Legs splay wider as her fingers pull panties sideways to play an urgent rhythm. Her mouth sucks hard.

Looking across the roof tops around wondering, thinking, I find it hard to believe somebody isn't watching from some window nearby. Her mouth plunges up and down in time to her own urgency bringing my thoughts back to her mouth. And I hold on at the thought people are watching it happen. Right now.

She pushes my shaft sideways to lick along its length as her hand pushes on my hip, turning me to allow her to lick along its length sideways. I look down as she does it and realise my body is no longer hiding her as she slides along me and I see she is looking straight at the lift as she licks, chews, and bites her way up and down me. Slipping me into her mouth slowly in the immortal bulging cheek blow job, she sits forward and turns sideways as I ease into her and start to slowly fuck her lips.

I push forward to thrust into her hard a half dozen times before backing away rigid to watch her start to play with herself, sitting back for her hand to descend to her own excitement. All the time her gaze is forward and past me to the lift as her fingers play amongst her lips. She smiles up at me as I stand watching her fingers knowing she has always liked me to watch her masturbate. She knows how much it has always turned me on, and she likes to please me, and tonight is a special one I have no doubt.

Calming myself I know this is merely the apéritif, the starter of our evening and her own multiple orgasms. Easing my shaft back into my trousers I sit back down and watch, sipping wine in the glorious warmth of Rome's evening air as she quickly brings herself to orgasm. Her sighs and moans increase with the urgent rhythmic movements of her fingers as she eventually pulls her panties sideways while putting her fingers into her mouth to lubricate them with saliva before reaching for her clit. Furiously she strokes it, faster and faster, eventually saliva is no longer needed as she dips fingers into her own moistness, pulling it upwards. Looking over my shoulder at where the lift camera sits I have no doubt, if Tommaso is there, he can see the entirety of her performance now, aided by me deliberately moving my chair slightly sideways to open the view for him.

And I Iove it. I always have. The exhibitionist. Being watched. Watching her.

Visually everything she has tightens on the face I know so well as the orgasm starts to sweep through her. Escaping from her mouth she looks at me, past me, to the lift as she groans loudly and unmistakeably, orgasmic. She forces her legs even wider as her fingers rotate hard against herself until her back arches from the chair and they slam closed around her hand, trapping it in place against her own moistness. Waves sweep over her as she shudders in the chair.

Watching them subside she eventually sighs contentedly. Sitting upright, Cathy pulls her panties back over her mound, the top back over her breasts, and her dress down. I refill her wine glass as she smiles contentedly before saying;

"Are you ok? Do you want me to finish you?"

"I'm fine love," I reply "the night is young and it's absolutely lovely here anyway. I'm good."

Her fingers trace patterns on her thighs as she sighs and sips the wine in the quietness of the night. Not before too long I see her fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh. "God I'm horny tonight," she sighs.

Laughing, I tell her it's obvious the night air of Rome is doing magic for her.

"Shall I order another bottle?" I ask, and she smiles and thinks it's a good idea before asking "Do you think he was watching? How old do you think he is?

"Hard to say, late twenties somewhere probably. He seems inordinately confident though so maybe he's older. Good looking bloke though. But anyway, if he was watching he's probably already masturbated and shot his load by now."

"Order a bottle," she says mischievously.