I had been looking forward to moments like this for months. Here I was, on an Italian beach, half reclined on a lounge chair, with a Corona in my left hand, talking to a drop-dead gorgeous local. Damn this girl was fine! Her name was Alyssa, she was about 5'10", relatively thin but not anorexic, with tan skin and what looked like D cup boobs. I could see these quite clearly because she was topless. I had opted not to go to a fully nude beach because I didn't want my vacation ruined by images of naked grandmothers (yes that happens) and other men's cocks. Here, the men and old ladies covered up, but it was perfectly acceptable for those who really had it to flaunt it. And Alyssa really had it.
I had spent half the afternoon small-talking with her. This was the pleasure part of my vacation, half of which I had spent devouring the ruins of every ancient city from Rome through Syracuse. Classics was one of my passions, would be my major when I entered University this year. Unfortunately, I had been so devoted to that one passion for two weeks that I had barely been to one nightclub, much less had a decent fuck.
So here I was, on the first day of the second half of my vacation. I originally had planned to do my senior summer travels with friends, but for reasons unknown to me, that never worked out – some wanted to do nothing but work, some nothing but pleasure, some, like me, a mix, and all in different countries. So I had saved some money and managed to spend a pleasurable, if not overly indulgent, month on my work. Now it was time for pleasure. And here, on the first day, I was gonna get it.
The only thing that even slightly impeded on my pleasure was my lodgings. Having blown most of my savings on the first half of the trip, I was staying in a villa my aunt owned in the hills above town. It couldn't be helped, anymore that it could that my mother was visiting her, but I had a room far removed from theirs in the guest wing, and they were liberated enough to give my space. If I really felt like having a wild time, I knew there were plenty of other places in town to have it. My lodgings, I supposed, weren't so bad after all.
Snapping out of my reverie, I looked up at Alyssa's face from her breasts, which I had been staring at again, and answered the question. I had long ago developed the habit, in class, of keeping track of what someone was saying while not really listening to them. It had since come in handy with girls.
"I'd love to go in the water," I replied. Her English was much better than my Italian.
I followed her down to the sea, unable to conceal the tent of my shorts with her wiggling her tight ass the whole way down. The little cocktease! I decided to be a bit bolder.
When we reached about waist depth I, still trailing her, came up behind her, my cock pressed into her firm ass, and grabbed her round the waist. She giggled.
"I like that," she said in a soft, seductive voice.
Grabbing her hand, I lead her out deeper. I turned and we met in a deep, passionate kiss. Breaking it at last, I said, "If you like that, you'll love this."
I began to fondle her nipples, and she felt down to my crotch, moaning a little. We were utterly oblivious to the people around us. Suddenly the bells of the church of San Martino on the hill boomed out five o'clock. She jerked up, red-faced and swearing, and kissed me briefly before saying,
"Jonah, mia cara, I'm so very sorry. But you know I told you I had to be home today at five to take care of my grandmother."
"Fuck." The word escaped my lips before I could help it.
"Not now," she giggled. "But maybe later. My grandmother goes to bed at ten. Do you know the Bar Alessandro?"
"Yes," I responded. Only one day in the city, but I already knew where the premier young bar was.
"Would you like to meet me there at eleven? I'll make this up to you."
I nodded, "Very much so." Making the best of a bad situation, I kissed her again, then let her leave.
Damn it! I was horny as hell, and had six hours now with which to do nothing. With the locals leaving the beach soon to take a nap and get ready to eat, I could not try to get another girl.
With a sigh, I reconciled myself to the fact that I too would take a nap and a shower, eat a long dinner with my mother and aunt, and then go meet Alyssa.
Still slightly depressed, I walked up the long drive to my aunt Claire's villa. Claire was my mother's younger sister, 6 years her junior. She was possessed of ravishing good looks: jet black hair, the world's smoothest skin, which was of a peach color, thin, not overly tall. Her lips were full and sensuous. I would put her at about 5'6", with C cup breasts. Claire was gorgeous, and, if I did admit it only to myself, I occasionally had thoughts for her that no nephew should have for his aunt. She was also well read, and had other talents, but it was her beauty that she had put to work. She had married money, and Money, as we called her husband (with a capitol M), did not like to travel, which was why she was here in the villa alone this summer.
My mother and my aunt got on very well together, though they could not be more different to the eye. My mother, at 36 (she had had me at 18), could still hold her own, even against her sister, for looks. My mother had married for love, and my father had died early, leaving just me and her. The contrasts were more than physical, though there they extended beyond the hair (mom was a brunette, as opposed to Claire's jet-black) to height (mom was 5'9"), and complexion – mom was fairer. Below the surface, mom was the older sister – more mature, etc. But they were both educated women, and they loved each other deeply, I knew. After my father's death, Claire had quite literally pumped Money for money and it had helped our situation a great deal. Mom I also had unnatural thoughts for; rarely, however, and I had determined to put them out of my head.
I hosed the sand off my body, toweled down, and left my sandals at the foot of the stairs. The towel and my shirt I hung on the line. I proceeded up the main stairs to the second floor, which, in an Italian villa, houses everything from the dining room to the bedrooms. Making my way from the cool marble foyer down the hall to my bedroom in the wing, I passed my aunt's room, the grand main bedroom. I had only been in it once before, on a tour of the house; it was tastefully decorated and contained as a central feature a large queen-sized bed. Passing its almost-closed door, I heard my name and paused.
"...Jonah?" I heard my mother say, her voice strangely muffled.
My aunt laughed, "He'll be away for quite some time, I bet. The local girls are real lookers." They both laughed. Obviously the thick carpet and my bare feet had hidden my arrival; little did they know. "But," she added slyly, "I bet you wouldn't be too disappointed if he came home and saw you now, Jackie. Lord knows I wouldn't."
My blood froze. I froze. Was Claire really talking about what I thought she was talking about. I decided I might be overreacting, projecting my fantasies onto an innocent situation. But still, couldn't hurt to listen.