Weasel and me had just driven the Amalfi coast of Italy, which is fantastically beautiful (if you're not the driver negotiating hairpin curves on a road barely big enough to accommodate one car, let alone bumper-to-bumper traffic going both ways).

Somehow, we managed to find a little town on a hilltop called Sperlonga, where they were in the middle of their big summer festival of whatever. You can't drive around in the town so we parked outside and took a walk in to see what was going down.

It was sunset (we always managed to arrive at sunset), and there was a big terrace in the main square which was just begging to be bottled.

We ran back to the van, got the instruments, and got stuck into the set. After three tunes, I went around with the hat. One of the last people I asked money from was this beautiful young Italian girl who pressed a wad of bills into my hand with big brown pleading eyes. She wouldn't let go of my hand and I couldn't figure out what she was saying or what was going on.

Finally the waiter translated to me "She needs a place to sleep, and she wants you". At first I thought the guy was jiveing me, but when I looked into her eyes and saw the expression on her face, I got convinced that that's exactly what she was trying to put across.

Weasel finished playing, and was just in the process of inviting himself to a glass or two of red wine at this table of loudmouth American chicks when I walked over with this girl and asked him for the car keys. He couldn't believe that this hot number was on my arm and we were already off after a quick ten minutes of music. I couldn't believe it either, but there she was and she didn't want to spend another minute hanging around the terrace. Weasel immediately tried to invite himself along "for the ride", but she wouldn't have it. I told him to hang out for about an hour before coming back to the van.

We climbed into the bus, and it was only seconds before we were kissing and panting in the hot Italian night. I thought "What luck!" and then tried to get my fingers into her panties, but she just wouldn't let me. She continued stroking my hard-on, but still she kept moving my hand away every time I tried to slither down her belly to her box. This little game started to get pretty frustrating for me, and I was just about to throw her out when she made it clear to me that it was the full moon and it wasn't the right time for her. Then she said "Veni qua" and pointed to her heart. Well, I knew enough Italian to figure out that that meant "Come here". She spit in her hand and wiped it all over herself and when I put my aching stiff between her delicious boobs she closed them off with her hands and gave me probably the finest titty-roll of my life. She really knew how to do it, too. She was kneading my prick as it slipped in and out of her cleavage. Oh My God! And when I'd get the end close to her mouth she'd give me that tricky lick, tongueing the head of my dick like it was an ice-lolly. Beautiful!

She made it clear that she didn't want me to come in her mouth, and it didn't matter to me because her delicious breasts and strong hands made that soft wet place between her firm tits the most comfortable and exciting space in the world to be. When I came, my jism filled the little reservoir at the collarbone and then some. The pearl necklace spilled over and dripped down both sides of her neck. Finally, when I had spent my last drop of spunk, she took my wilting willy into her mouth and soothed it lovingly with her sucking kisses. What a bonus for my boner!

When Weasel stumbled drunk back to the bus, we were both already fast asleep. He sort of tried to make some moves, but she wasn't into it at all. I told him that I'd explain it all in the morning.

At the dawn's early light, Weasel was at it again. Grabbing her knockers, and dry humping her thigh. She turned her back on him, and cuddled up to me for reassurance. I told him straight off that she was on the rag and to just forget about it. But then I got horny again, and started a repeat of last night's performance. There I was with my hard-on up between her boobs again, pumping away with Weasel's face only inches away from the action. He was a born voyeur, and if he wasn't getting it himself, his next greatest pleasure was watching somebody else doing it. His eyes absolutely glowed with lecherous delight while he wanked off under the covers watching the show. It sure didn't take long for me to shoot my wad all over her face and lips, aaaah.

It was easy to see that Weasel was preparing to take over where I left off once I'd finished. But she wasn't about to let him. She jumped up, climbed out of the van like a shot and that was the last we saw of her.

We stayed in that town for another few days, but this girl (I didn't even ask her name) never showed her face at either the terrace or the beach. Well, I guess she got what she needed (which was a crash for the night) and left for greener pastures.

Spelonga is a fantastic place with its whitewashed houses, traffic-less winding hilltop streets and old world atmosphere!

On the second evening, there was the most amazing fireworks show I have ever experienced in my life, bar none. The pyrotechnics at the beach were so powerful that every boom went through the body like the end of the world and an orgasm all wrapped up into one. BA-WHAM!!! BA-WHAM!!! BA-WHAM!!! BA-WHAM!!! BA-WHAM!!! Who needs LSD?!!

And it went on and on into the night, until we couldn't take it anymore. If I had my life to live over again, I wouldn't miss Sperlonga for the world.

copyright 2003 Jeff Brent

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