Inkusuccu Sxcubus

INKUSUCCU SEXUBUS
I was particularly horny that hot August summer’s day, in the Northern Italian town of San Remo. If I didn’t find a woman very quickly, I would be obliged to masturbate, and I’d much prefer touching female flesh than my own if I could help it, but when I had too much sperm to evacuate, and there were no girls around, that’s what I had to do otherwise I would have certain problems. I wasn’t against prostitutes as they asked no questions, took a little money and everyone was happy. However, women in this little town were either with someone or just too busy shopping or coming from or going to work, therefore not available. I wasn’t out for beauty or love or even compassion or friendship; no, all I wanted was just sex, and this place didn’t seem ideal for that. I was on a two-week holiday and although there must hundreds of women around, there didn’t seem to be too many in this little coastal town and right now, with the way I was feeling, I would settle for any girl, as long as she had nice legs. Unfortunately, to top it all, at about two pm it meant siesta in this country, which accounted for the empty streets.
As I was strolling near the park along one of the main roads, I couldn’t help but notice her. She was sitting on a bench across the street. Her legs were crossed in a most advantageous way, at least from where I was standing. Her thin see-through, off-pink, summer dress was raised high up on her thighs and her red platform heels brought out her calf muscles all the more, thus rending her already enthralling and exciting body, even more arousing and tempting. Her uncombed flaming red hair added a sense of mystery, as her piercing green eyes stared straight at me, in an intriguingly come along look. Although I couldn’t speak Italian, I knew they either spoke English or French here, which were both my languages. So what could I lose by crossing over. Besides, body language has no frontier; everyone in the world understands it, and hers was perfectly clear. Her smile was delectable and I could already feel my hardness in my pants growing. It’s true that I don’t wear underpants especially in the middle of summer so I was that much more aroused by the stunning site, which she was so openly offering me.
2
In a couple of strides, I’d crossed the road and was sitting next to her.
‘Hope you don’t mind me sitting here?’ I uttered discretely.
‘Absolutely not, I was wondering when you would come over.’ She answered warmly. It occurred to me that we were both speaking English, I, with my London accent, and she with a beautifully moist American one. That thought made me overlook her statement, which would later ring home.
‘I guess, from your accent, that you’re from the States, where abouts?’
‘Philadelphia. And you must be British. I love a true English accent. The one they call the Queen’s English’
‘I’m from London, actually; and yes I am able to acquire the Queen’s English.’
She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way, which allowed me a quick glimpse in between. She wasn’t wearing any underwear either. My penis was now beginning to burst and it was showing through my white cotton jeans. The red tee shirt I was wearing was becoming rather moist with perspiration. Luckily my aftershave was powerful enough to cover my natural odours. Her own very strong Patchouli was also most inviting. I often wore Patchouli myself but it would depend upon my mood and body choice, as you will realize a little later. That’s when her first phrase struck me.
‘You said you were wondering when I’d cross over, I think?’
She grinned and nodded.
‘That’s right honey; I’ve been watching you for about ten minutes walking up and
down the road looking.’
‘Looking?’ I asked intrigued.
‘Yeah, looking! Probably for a girl, I think.’
‘You’re very perspicacious!’ I uttered a little embarrassed.
‘I know!’ She sighed, grinning at the same time.
‘I feel particularly hot sitting here, wouldn’t you like to go somewhere a little cooler?’ I attempted.
‘Why not? My hotel is just there.’ She sighed as she nodded to a small hotel a few
metres away. I knew this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, but at the same time, I felt there was something strange and uncanny about her. I had to be sure about something.
‘A little direct isn’t it? I was thinking more in the way of a drink somewhere.’
‘We can have a drink in my room, if you like.’
3
Now I was sure. Either she was a nymphomaniac, which would suit me perfectly, or she was a prostitute and that would depend on how much money I was prepared to spend on sex; and then again, something was cooking.
‘Ok, but how much is it going to cost me? I inclined.’
‘To begin with, what makes you think we’re going to do anything? Secondly, I
never take money for sex.’
‘Oh, I assumed …’
‘I know what you assumed,’ she interrupted cunningly with a slight grin, ‘only I
never said we’d do anything but then again, I never said we wouldn’t. You just suggested we go somewhere a little cooler and I proposed my hotel room, that’s all. We can sit and talk over a cool drink if you like. The mini-bar is full.’ I was certain she was teasing me and I could feel my rod begin to lose its hardness but even sitting here next to her was enough to get me going again. I wanted to put my hand on her knees and caress the top of her thighs; they were so white and soft with tiny freckles here and there. As I looked closer at her legs, my phallus was starting to prick up again. After thinking about it a few moments, it seemed better to go to her room rather than stay out here on this bench, and after all, perhaps I could tempt her into going further once we were up there. After all, she did say maybe and when a girl says maybe, it is always a good sign.
‘Right-oh, let’s go to your room and chat a little. Oh, by the way, what’s your
name?’
‘My parents christened me Frances but my friends call me Flame, what’s yours?’
‘I should have guessed.