An Affair With No Limits — Chapter 1
The Bathroom
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It was a magical evening. I drank much more than my usual max to dull the inevitable. But tonight, he was by my side, so close that I could smell his minty toothpaste. He was standing over me, describing the dizzying array of choices on Tutto Mare’s Michelin-starred menu.
I was looking up at him, trying hard to pay attention to all that he was saying. But as he spoke, I was mesmerized watching how his lips and his mouth moved, opening and closing. He paused, smiled patiently, and waited for us to order. I smiled at him like an idiot, without a clue or a care in the world. I was just happy to be in that moment.
“Let’s do something crazy tonight, Gianmarco. Are you ready for a challenge?”
“Noooo!” he protested.
It was the liquid courage, the pre-dinner Gin & Tonic he mixed for me, that reached out to squeeze his hand, as I smiled my biggest smile at him.
“Trust me. It will be fun! I promise.”
He looked a bit nervous because I was shamelessly flirting with him, despite my oblivious husband and our unruly 5-year-old daughter sitting at the same dining table with me.
He should’ve known by now that I’m not the usual customer. He took a deep breath as if waiting to take a test he felt completely unprepared for.
“From your favorite dishes, curate a dinner of what you think is the best, choosing whatever Italian wines to match. I don’t want Tutto Mare’s standard offerings. I want Gianmarco’s Tasting Menu. The sky is the limit!”
At first, he was hesitant, probably because he’d never heard such a crazy request like this before. A smile emerged, followed by a twinkle in his eye as if the gears of his mind were starting to turn.
He walked towards the wall of cabinets, and opened drawer after drawer, revealing wine bottles resting horizontally, like troops at the ready.
I watched his reflection in the mirror. Such concentration on his face, as he ran his right hand over the glass bodies, gently caressing them as if recalling from his memory bank the flavors and aromas of every one of his soldiers’ strengths.
Our fabulous guide presented our family with an exquisite dinner, the highlight of our annual Italian vacation! The accompanying wines he selected paired sublimely with the innovative grilled octopus soup, the perfectly al dente lobster risotto, and the ethereal, dreamy pink finale.
But for me, the best part was seeing how much Gianmarco had grown, from a simple waiter I first met and now becoming a superb sommelier.
I could feel his excitement as he was about to embark on his grand adventure to Milan to better his life.
During a quiet moment after the table was cleared, I shared with him my unfulfilled wish: to learn how to make ravioli as ethereal as what we’d had at Mirabella, the previous Michelin-starred restaurant he worked at.
Suddenly, he whips out his cellphone and calls his brother, Niko, who’s now a sous chef there. My Hero arranged a private lesson for me, before the end of our trip.
I confess. I was eavesdropping, committing to memory the sound of his deep sexy Italian voice so that I would never forget.
When he hung up, I looked deeply into his eyes, and if they could have spoken, they would have told him what was in my heart, which was full of joy for the time I got to spend with him, gratefulness at what he had just done for me, and sadness that this was the end.
It was now or never. Blinking away the sparkling tears welling in my eyes, I spoke softly in Italian so that my husband would neither understand nor hear the words I’d been dying to say.
“You were amazing tonight! I will miss hearing your charming voice and seeing your beautiful smile.”
He lowered his eyes and smiled as if I’d touched his soul. Message received. I waited for his gaze.
We looked deeply into each other’s eyes, neither one blinking for what seemed like an eternity. I can’t read non-verbal clues very well, but that private provocative look he was sending me with his flirty eyes, was different from the polite ‘Thank you’ he uttered in public.
My heart was pounding. It took all my strength to stop what it longed to do, to gently place my right hand, caress his beautiful bearded face, and kiss his sweet lips.
But, I let the moment pass. I was scared because I didn’t know how he truly felt about me, afraid I’d make a fool of myself if I did.
Instead, the familiar friendly handshakes and the quintessential Italian goodbyes, with kisses on both cheeks, were shared.
He’s so much taller than me that when I tried to kiss his cheek, I missed, and ended up marking his pristine, white starched collar with my pink lipstick. I tried to rub it out with my finger, but it only smudged worse.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No problem.”
Then it was time to go.
Since we’d had too much to drink to drive home, a taxi was called for us. As we were waiting by the curb, I had this sudden urge to urinate.
“Stay with Daddy. I have to pee. I’ll be right back!” As I ran and burst through the door of the restaurant.
Crossing the Line
Gianmarco looks surprised to see me again so soon.
“The bathroom, please!”
And he leads me, holding my hand, as if he can feel my urgency.
But when we get to the door, like a deer caught in the headlights, I can’t let go. I can only stare into his gorgeous, brown eyes. There’s so much I want to say. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
A second chance, I place my hand at his neck and reach up to kiss him. Softly, at first. When he kisses me back, his lips parting so that I feel the wetness of his tongue touch mine, breathe the air that he’d exhaled, air that was inside him…
He feels the same.
On my tiptoes, I kiss his ear and whisper, “I want you.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve thought of you, of that morning at Pescara Beach. When we said goodbye, I felt you wanted to kiss me, but you didn’t. But I was confused, as you pulled me in closer, embracing me so tightly I could hardly breathe.”
“There was no time,” he whispers regretfully.
“I know. But now…” tilting my head to the right, a naughty, inviting smile crosses my face, as my eyes point towards one of the two restrooms, then back to him.
His eyes widen, he raises his left eyebrow and grins lasciviously at me. I squeeze his hand, and with a frenzy that only a few minutes can afford, we burst through the men’s bathroom.
He makes sure to lock the door behind us.
Frenzy
I’ve never been in a men’s bathroom, and this one is surprisingly clean, elegantly furnished in black slate and chrome. It smells of rich sandalwood. Except for the halogen spotlight over the sink by the mirror, the room is dimly lit like a cave.
I want to see him naked, so I push him towards the sink, which bathes his muscular form in a warm, sexy glow.
Our lips lock, our eager hands rub each other like blind men reading braille. I press my face against his chest, deeply breathing in his scent through his shirt. His cologne is a heady mixture of spice, cedarwood, and surprisingly, of baby powder.
I want to rip his shirt off, touch his bare skin. But he grabs my hand and says, “no time.”
He’s right.
I sigh as he yanks the straps of my dress off my shoulders, freeing my arms and revealing my black brassiere.
My dress falls to my hips.
With his dextrous fingers, he expertly unfastens the clasp and pockets my strapless bra.
“WOW, I love your enormous pink nipples!” he marvels.
“Do they titillate you, Darling?”
I shamelessly shimmy my unsheathed breasts in front of him, blushing at my wolfish forwardness.
“Yesss,” he pulls me, grabbing me firmly by my butt cheeks, squeezing it so hard it almost hurts. His ass-man fetish is revealed.
Normally, I feel quite insecure about my body, but his unbridled desire for me makes me feel so incredibly sexy. No one has ever admired my small boobs before, not even my husband.
I love how he manhandles my tits with his strong, firm hands, driving me wild as he sucks and bites my nipples, making me wetter than I’ve been in a very, very long time.
As I rub against him, I feel his erection, contained in his trousers, growing with every stroke. I long to know what he feels like, inside me.
I undo his belt buckle, unzip his pants, and slide my hands down the sides of his hips. I pull his black briefs down to his knees, revealing a giant cock, standing at attention.
“YOWZA, I’m impressed! What do you do when you get a hard-on at work?”
“Sacrifice and soldier on,” says he, with a slightly evil smile.
I laugh.
“No need to sacrifice, Soldier Boy. No blue balls on my watch tonight,” as I kneel down in front of him on the cold, stone floor, and put his thick, throbbing cock inside my wet mouth.
I grip his sword firmly, gently flicking the tip of his head with my pointed tongue, and circle his entire pink helmet, making sure to suck gently his adorable little triangle of skin at the base of his head. It makes me smile to hear him moan with pleasure.
“Don’t stop!”
I’m giggling as I lick the underside of his shaft with the flat part of my tongue; one hand to stroke and cradle his balls, the other to grope his firm ass, thinking, My God, what a body!
He throbs in my mouth as if he’s ready to explode. I love giving deep, long, slow blowjobs, and I would’ve loved to suck & swallow his sweet cum straight from the source, but tonight, I wanted a different happy ending.
“As much as I love tasting you, I need you to fuck me right now. Pound me. I want to feel you inside and cum with me.”
Happy to oblige, he lifts me to my feet with his powerful arms, pulls up my skirt, and spreads my legs apart. No time for elaborate ceremonies, he pushes the string of my thong aside to probe my dripping slit, sticking his long middle finger inside, moving it up and down reaching deeply, making me sigh and moan with delight.
Extracting his digit, he licks my pussy juices, smacks his lips, making yummy ‘mmmmm’ sounds. It’s such a turn-on to see him enjoy how I taste.
“Are you ready for a challenge?” he asks, throwing back at me, the same question I asked of him.
I’m intrigued. Wide-eyed, my pupils dilate, my heart pounds.
Love may be blind, but Gianmarco is an Adonis. He exudes so much sexual energy, that I can’t help but stare at him with desire.
What is it about his eyes, his sexy, mesmerizing bedroom eyes? Framed by his well-defined bold, black eyebrows, and his stunningly long thick lashes, they together accentuate his shy, yet piercing chestnut brown eyes.
His beautiful nose is perfectly symmetrical and not just a placeholder where he rests his black, metal-rimmed sunglasses upon.
His lips, warm and inviting are almost hidden behind his well-groomed beard, until he flashes his dazzling pearly whites, which highlights his naughty, bad boy smile.
But if I were truly blind and could only hear him speak, I could fall in love with the sound of his voice, his deep, sexy Italian baritone voice, which feels as rich and decadent as molten chocolate would be to my mouth.
Gianmarco kisses my ear, whispering into it his secret desire.
My body had been aching for him, ready for him all night. Regardless of whatever he wanted — he knew it, and I knew it — I was his.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop now.
“Yesss,” I breathlessly nod.
He turns my body so that I face the mirror and we gaze at our reflection.
At that instant in time, there are no limits or boundaries set forth by our stations in life. Half-naked before each other, I am just a woman and he is just a man.
He stands behind me kissing my shoulders, the back of my neck. I’m enjoying watching him, watch himself play with me, rubbing his hands across my body, my breasts, groping my ass and my pussy through the silk fabric, making me tingle at his intoxicating touch.
I gracefully sway my shoulders and grind my pelvis against his groin to the same tempo, as if we’re slow dancing together to our own music.
“Take me!” I hike up my skirt, as he bends me over. I hold firmly onto the sink.
I lean over the edge, even more, raise my ass, and wiggle it in front of him, parting my legs wider, inviting him to enter.
Accepting my invitation, he moves my thong to the side. I try not to scream, as he impales me with his bare cock.
With every thrust, I moan louder and uncontrollably. I can’t help myself because he feels so incredibly good, sliding in and out of my drenched cunt.
I feel like a voyeur watching his reflection in the mirror, as he fucks me from behind.
I’m beyond excited, as he pounds me harder and faster, such that my skin is tingling, my ears are ringing, and my heartbeat is so loud that I hear it echoing in my head.
His powerful drive is almost too much to bear, but I want to fuck him back, just as hard.
I put one hand against the wall to steady myself. I meet his every thrust, push against him, as I clamp down and squeeze my pelvic muscles tight around his rock hardness, which sets off a pulsing wave felt deep within.
I close my eyes as I savor the climax, letting the sweet, overwhelming sensation take over my body, moaning even louder as I announce reflexively, “I’m cumming!”
My skin still tingles all over.
I feel he’s really close, growing enormous inside me.
His eyes are shut tight, his head is thrown back, his mouth wide open.
Tightening my vulva like an iron vise rusted shut around his delectable Italian salsiccia, he begins moaning in ecstasy, grunting in his deep sexy voice, “I’m gonna cum!”
“Cum for me,” as I moan along with him.
His body shudders, as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, until he orgasms, injecting his welcome hot load in me.
His body relaxes.
My arms, my shoulders, my whole body is tired and sore, but in a good way.
I let go of the sink, and we fall onto the floor and laugh, feeling well and truly properly fucked.
“You are fucking amazing!”
“Yes, I know. Unforgettable!” He smiles confidently.
I chuckle at his choice of words.
Caressing his beautiful bearded face, I sing to him the first line of that same-named song,
“Unforgettable. That’s what you are. And forevermore, though near or far. That’s why Darling, it’s incredible that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am, unforgettable, too.”
In the end, we’re both smiling, giggling like naughty little kids, wiping the sweat from each other’s bodies with the restaurant’s fancy hand towels.
He looks at his black wristwatch and smiles. “You’d better hurry, your taxi is about to arrive,” as he slaps my ass.
I can feel his trail of cum beginning to dribble down my legs. I smile at him like a vixen, stick a finger inside myself, and slowly suck and lick his precious gift off it.
“Mmmmm,” I purr with delight, finally knowing the taste of his creamy deliciousness.
He laughs.
I will truly miss the sound of his sweet, warm laughter.
We dress each other hurriedly. I kiss him hard on the lips goodbye as we walk out the door.
I run outside just as our taxi pulls up to the curb. The driver apologizes for being late.
I lower my eyes and smile, musing, I’m not sorry he’s late.
My beloved, mischievous daughter runs into my arms, giving me a giant bear hug. She is soaked from playing in the fountain outside the restaurant.
Naughty Mama is secretly soaked, but now the front of my dress is wet, too, my erect nipples, visible pokies.
But my husband won’t notice. He never does.
I lower my head to hide my blushing smile because, in my haste, I forgot to retrieve my favorite black bra, which is inside the front pocket of Gianmarco’s pants!
The adventure continues here…
Thank you, Dear Reader!
I truly appreciate your taking the time to read my tale. Comments or suggestions to help make the story better… I’d love to hear from you!
With love and gratitude,
maura.monroe.author@gmail.com
