- 1 month ago
- 6 min read
- 2,300 visitas
The months that separated my son and me from the many longed-for Christmas holidays passed quickly in the company of Vittorio and Davide. Turn-based, of course, as I had a half idea of involving them both in my games but they wouldn't agree.
Unfortunately this is what happens when you start dating someone for a period of time longer than a couple of weeks: they start to have feelings towards you, they start to feel jealous and possessiveness, all of which make it difficult for you to experiment and play. .
So I welcomed that holiday with a renewed sense of liberation, taking advantage of the excuse of having Maicol at home to not see my concubines and we moved away from the chaos of the city, finding refuge in a beautiful hotel in the mountains.
For my son it meant skiing for the first time in his life and for me it meant staying away for a few days from the walls of my house, which at that time were particularly narrow for me.
Entering through the glass doors of the atrium, I noticed with interest the large bar that was located in the innermost part of the structure, a place that I would have experienced with pleasure that evening.
The room was spacious, a large double bed with a dark wood headboard, streaked with red and purple stood in the center, just in front of a large television built into the dark mirror.
We went to eat and then went to bed to snuggle up a bit while watching cartoons: it has always been our evening routine, to make up for my absence during school hours.
Maicol has always been a very loving child and had learned to be independent sooner than it should have been. Unfortunately when you are a single parent you can't always be there. So I didn't bother leaving him alone once he dozed off in front of the television. If he woke up he would just start watching television and locked him in the room just to be safe.
I didn't intend to stay away for too long, I just wanted to pop into the bar to assess the environment I was in.
I put on a long black dress, backless. One of those called "virgin killers", which leave little to imagine of a woman's body. I learned in life that there are no non-elegant clothes, it always depends on how you wear them.
I therefore avoided thongs or thongs to be highlighted, choosing dark red lace culottes that would have barely appeared from the dress, creating an effect I do not see that it would have made crazy any gaze that had settled on me.
I loved being observed, like a work of art in a museum (although I don't think people usually want to fuck Monnalisa). I completed my masterpiece with high-heeled shoes with a pair of laces that encircled my ankles up to almost mid-calf and I reflected on the metal surface of the elevator as I went down to the hall.
I had to admit that the result was not bad at all, but the costume is only half of the play, now came the acting rehearsal.
There is one sure thing about going to a bar for a drink in the evening, when you are a beautiful mature woman: you will not spend your time alone. The world is full of young men who can't wait to fulfill the dream of having a so-called "milf" and wandering around the bars hoping to pick up one. The problem is that you don't find such a woman in bars, because in the evening they have to be with her children. Unless they have an angel like Maicol who sleeps blissfully in her bed.
I sat down at the counter and within fifteen minutes they had already offered me a couple of drinks. Unfortunately I was more interested in the bartender than the patrons: he was an olive-skinned boy, with his hair falling in two tufts in front of his eyes, while the rest of him was tied behind his head.
He was dressed in a white shirt and a black bow, a dark apron that encircled his waist and his hands without rings or watches that moved fast in making drinks.
The shirt stood out on the muscles of his arms and back, which was reflected in the huge mirror behind him. There weren't many people at the bar and the man moved slowly, paying particular attention to his drinks. He exchanged a few friendly words with the patrons and smiled mildly.
As I sipped the drink he had made me (a glass of fruity alcohol, with a thin layer of sugar on the edge moistened with lemon juice) I continued to observe him, being careful to wink when our eyes met.
I couldn't wait to find out what else he could do with those hands.
An hour and a half later I was lying on the bed in his room. Apparently she slept in the hotel during busy periods, so she could be on the job at any time. And it happened quickly.
I opened the bathroom door slightly and saw him in the shower: the water flowed over the sculpted muscles, not those of a bodybuilder but that stood out against his lean, lean physique. His chin did not have a hint of a beard, giving him an even younger look than he already was and his hands were well manicured, with a pair of veins that stood out under the skin.
Those same hands after a few minutes were on me: I felt them sliding on my skin, the fresh contact on my hot hips, the fingers moving on my nipples like those of a radio amateur trying to find a frequency. I began to moan biting my lower lip, while his left hand moved away from the respective breasts and slipped between my legs, first sliding the index finger between my lips, then moving the thumb in circular movements over the clitoris.
My body was crossed by electric discharges: I had never known a man who knew how to do it that way with his hands, it seemed that he was making one of his usual cocktails.
He moved his lips to my mouth, kissing me deeply and sliding a liqueur-soaked cherry between my lips.
I barely had time to taste it before risking choking on it when he moved between my legs, starting to move his tongue over my sex.
He put his tongue all the way in, then he gave me heavy licks that encircled both lips, making me moan like a whore.
Only my ankle boots were left of my dress, everything else lay on the ground near the bed, except the culottes that he clutched in his fist as he continued his mouth work.
Between one moan and the next I proposed to reciprocate, but he hoisted himself on me and penetrated me to the bottom, in a single and powerful thrust.
He began to go back and forth, as he went back to tease my breasts with his wise fingers until I tried to regain a minimum of initiative and pushed him forward, making him fall onto the bed on his back.
So I hoisted myself up on him and slipped him inside, marking time with small leaps. It didn't take long before I began to feel the cramps in my thighs from the constant hopping, but it continued to mark my pleasure, investing me in ever longer and stronger waves.
The last orgasm came just before he lifted my hips and came out of me, and then came in a dense, white upward jet that soiled us both.
I lay on the bed, waiting for my legs to come back firmly, as at that moment they seemed to be made of jelly and I thought that I would fully enjoy this vacation.