Novel & Cerita Italian Short Stories

Hi, I will not say much. This is an erotic story that contains a mom/aunt/son. As you know, I write about Aunt/Mom’s stories. Please support me by reading my other stories, too. Also, you can support me on my P*****n: p*****n.com/laxu00 Story starts

She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and reading some of them softly under her breath. “Hmmm, look at this one,” I said. “This person seems to have described our date last week in perfect detail.” It was a story about a woman who liked to be spanked and punished. “I like this one,” Carrie said, pointing to another. “I really think we should try and work this one into our next date.” The story was about a couple who arranged to act like strangers and meet up at a trashy bar and pick each other up. There were long descriptions about them fucking in the back of the bar as the guys playing pool watched and stroked their cues.

“What's your favorite thing about living in Italy?" Giulia beamed, hopping from one foot to the other before she said, "The beach. We always go in summer, and I build sandcastles there. And I also like school. My friends and I play tag at recess. But I like the stories Nonna tells about the old times, with knights and kings. Is New York old like that?"

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

Okay, I'm game, but this better end like the movie with my lips on hers. While we eat, I ask her about the town and what there is to do around here, but all I'm thinking about is getting to that last bite. When nothing is left but one meatball and a couple of noodles, we both start twirling the pasta and putting our forks in our mouths. The noodle breaks, and when I see the disappointment in Sherri's eyes, I throw caution to the wind. I place my hands on her cheeks and kiss her.

With a smile of nostalgia, I rub my palms together, taking a moment to savor the essence of Italy. "Ah, living in Italy is like waking up to the aroma of olives and freshly baked bread in the morning, the tantalizing scent of rich Italian cuisine lingering in the air throughout the day. It means being serenaded by the gentle chime of church bells in the distance and strolling through streets adorned with colorful flowers. It's about indulging in gelato on warm summer evenings and savoring the easy access to world-class varieties of exquisite wine, especially here in Tuscany. And let's not forget the high-quality craftsmanship of Italian fashion and footwear—it's truly unparalleled." "Wow, th

His high cheekbones surrounded his perfect nose and plump lips. He was clean shaven with a dimpled chin. His hair was short, black, and wavy. He greeted us in what I guessed was an Italian accent. He licked his lips and with an air of arrogance. He slowly opened his robe and threw it over a nearby stool. The small class of mostly middle aged women whistled, clapped, stomped their feet, and cheered at the majestic sight. Massimo was hung like a horse- a big, young stallion. He stood with his hands on his waist showcasing his magnificent manhood, giving us a much needed chance to admire his glorious form.

Because it was impossible to receive this phone call in noisy indoor, Marco strode towards the balcony. An unfamiliar number. "With Marco Bruni, the manager of actress Lucrezia Verga here. Can I help you?" Marco closed the glass door connecting the suite room with the balcony, so that the girls' voices would not interfere. "I'm Luciano Romano from The Romano Group. I have an interesting offer for you, Signor Bruni." A voice replied on the other side. Marco was silent for a moment, not quite believing with his own ears. Romano. He didn't hear it wrong, right? The Romano who was a family of whale-class millionaires in Italy? Marco even thought that the family was secretly related to the mafia.

I took a large gulp of my drink and seized that opportunity to stop staring at the man. But when I set my mug down, I noticed that he was still watching me. “So, signorina, do you think you and I would have sex tonight?” ~~~ NOTE There are some Italian phrases used in this story. To avoid confusion, I will include their translations at the end of the chapter. Please note that G****e Translate was used for this purpose Once again, bear with me concerning editing. Amico -Friend Grazie- Thank you Fiore de Venezia- Flower of Venice

Chapter Three – Ruthless Claim The fire crackled in the study, the night deepening, but the heat between us was a inferno, unquenched by the earlier ravaging. My body was a map of their desire—bruises on my thighs, bite marks on my breasts, cum and sweat coating my skin—yet the hunger raged. The mafia boss and his lieutenant loomed, their eyes dark with lust, ready to claim me again.