Can You Feel it? Story #2

In my teens, I lived in quite a small village around five miles outside the city. The most outstanding feature of our tiny community was the sprawling mansion owned by a family who squired much of the surrounding area. The eldest daughter of this illustrious household was named Deborah. She was absolutely beautiful, always impeccably dressed and she had a smile that could charm the birds out of the trees.

Occasionally she’d walk through the village with her two dogs but she didn’t have much time for us peasants. When she did speak to us it was in a patronizing tone, much like the way you ‘d talk to a pet or a halfwit. However, now she’s going to be a part of my story things are going to change.
I was under 18 when I last saw her, she was certainly not interested in me then and I knew that she wouldn’t be interested in the same scrawny young guy with a babyface now. Consequently, I decided for this time travel adventure I should be around 25, well turned out and the owner of a fancy car, possibly an Alpha Romeo.

During my last few months in the village, local gossip had it that she was banned from driving by her father because she’d smashed up a brand new MG he’d bought her. Poor Deborah had to travel to the city by bus and actually mix with the lower classes.

It was also common knowledge that she was going to study fashion design with a famous couturier in Milan and was taking Italian lessons at the technical college in the evenings. My new shape-shifting, time-traveling persona immediately signed up for the same class. I already spoke a bit of Italian as that was my father’s heritage but I didn’t speak it well.

Immediately I entered the classroom I made it my business to approach her. With my well-tailored suit, an expensive watch and educated accent she never suspected that I was the broad spoken wretch she’d seen in the village occasionally, although she did that say that I looked vaguely familiar.
I must have made a good job of my transition because she seemed to take to me right away, and when I offered to drive her home after class she accepted without a moment’s hesitation. When she saw the car she was most impressed, and I foolishly asked her if she’d like to drive. Once outside the city, she flew along like a bat out of hell. It was pitch black and the road was full of twists and turns but it did not persuade her to ease up on the gas pedal.

When we arrived at the house she asked me if I wanted to come in for a drink and I was only too pleased to accept her invitation. However, we didn’t go into the house, she drove around the back and then led me up a stone staircase to a games room above the stables.
“This is where my sister and I hang out,” she said, as she opened up the door.

It was quite a place; there were both pool and table tennis tables, weights, a shuffleboard court, and a massage table. We walked the length of the room to a little cozy corner where there some comfortable wingback chairs and a cocktail cabinet.

“Is Scotch alright?” she asked, but before I could answer she opened up the cabinet and poured us two drinks.

“We used to spend a lot of time up here when I was young,” she told me, “my cousin Freddie used to come for a couple of weeks every summer and we’d play strip billiards.”

“That sounds interesting,” I replied, my glass shaking in my hand just thinking about it.

“I’ll play you a game if you’re up for it,” she laughed, “but I’m good, darn good.”

Preferring to play table tennis as I envisioned her tits bouncing up and down, I put forward the suggestion saying I’d never really played billiards. She looked a little unsure but then said, “Why not,” and we chose our bats and took our positions.

I could see by the way her tits moved around that she was not wearing any bra under that flowery dress. Convinced that my dynamite serves would soon have her stripped down naked I grinned like the cat that got the cream.

Unfortunately, perhaps because I had not picked up a bat for about thirty years, I was not quite as dexterous as I thought I was. Soon I was dancing around in my bare feet having had to surrender my shoes and socks, while Deborah was only missing one shoe and by the time she had to remove the other one I was down to my underpants. She continued to play like a champion and the next ball that shot past my left ear meant that I had to take off my Union Jack skivvies which I threw to her.

My opponent was delighted with the outcome and waving my underwear aloft, she jumped up and down with jubilation. The sight of her jiggling tits caused me to develop a boner and seeing this she walked around the table and hung them on the end of it. Deborah then proceeded to make a very gracious offer.

“If it will make you more comfortable,” she said, I’ll take my clothes off too – then we’ll be equal.”

I nodded my head furiously in agreement and she proceeded to pull the dress over her head and slip out of her panties. Holy shit – she had an incredible body and she made no attempt to cover any of it up.

“Now,” she said, walking up to me and poking me in the chest with a long painted fingernail, “as you lost you can give me a massage.” With this, she went over and lay face down on the padded table.

It had an opening that she put her face through and I, with a completely ulterior motive in mind, decided to stand at the front of the table and knead her shoulders. This meant my enormous boner was hovering in front of her face and as I leaned forward to reach further down her back it came into range and she licked it. I was not close enough for her to engorge it into her mouth but she did take the head between her lips to nibble it.

She obviously knew that I wanted her to suck it and she quickly got up and told me to sit on the table, I did as she bid with my legs hanging over the side. She spread her legs, leaned forward with a hand either side of me, took it into her mouth and started to do pushups. I wanted to cum the first time it slid between those luscious aristocratic lips of hers but she made me wait. She lowered herself onto me tantalizingly slow, rose up again, and then pausing for a split second she plunged back down on my throbbing cock.

Having a problem to stand the suspense I grabbed hold of her head and attempted to speed things up but she broke my grasp and continued her tortuous moves until my balls felt they were going to explode. When I did cum it seared through my pipe like red-hot lava and into her pretty mouth.

As soon as she’d drained my balls I jumped off of the table, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the padded surface that was still damp with my sweat. I shoved her legs into the air and put my face between her warm smooth thighs and started to nuzzle her pussy.

“Lick it for me,” she cried, “lick it.”

I responded by opening up the lips with my fingers and lapping her cunt up and down like a big puppy dog.

“Fucking hell!” she yelled as I went faster and faster, “I’m going to cum.”

She wrapped her legs around my neck and almost suffocated me as she went into a massive orgasm. As soon as she’d regained her senses she slipped off the table, turned her beautiful ass towards me and invited me to stick it into her twat from the back. It felt so hot and wet inside, I took a deep breath, grabbed onto her tits and I drove it in and out of her as she kept yelling “ veloce, veloce.” Meaning she wanted it faster.

I moved my hands from her tits, held onto the table for better traction, and then I fucked her like a madman. When I came we both yelled out loud and she shoved her ass back against me as hard as she could.

“WOW, that was good,” she said, turning around to kiss me, “Where have you been all my life?”

As crazy as it seems we spent the night together on the Pool Table using the felt dust cover as a blanket. We fucked a couple of times before going to sleep and once before I left in the morning.

I hated to say “Arrivederci!” but I had to go before someone discovered my car and got curious. However, I did promise to look her up in Milan sometime. THE END
Copyright 2013 Cristiano Caffieri You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of these stories or the photographs herein in any format, or claim ownership.

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