Cum Diaries: Escapade in Venice Part 1

Few places are so mystical they almost give me the creeps. This place is one of them. I outright refuse to do any hard stuff when she asks me, a gentle high or tipsiness is all I could afford in these windy humid streets. There is a reason why locals vacate in the tourist months and it’s not only to do with the tourists. Those in the service industry just bite their upper lip, just like Sorena. She’s biting her upper lip looking at me from across the lobby and I look at her through the tenants in my bulb wine glass of merlot. The deep red of the Merlot and the crazy diffraction did little to alter her beauty, such a natural prowess is hard to come by. I could feel myself swelling slightly in the anticipation of a hot passionate game in this humid romantic city of bridges. My thoughts were confirmed when other employees turned to her for approval, yes she was an actual hotelier and not some airhead bimbo fuck toy. My nostrils flared as I took a deep whiff of the crimson g**** juice, the oak barrel scent may have actually hit me inside my brain, oh yes the mellow mellowness of getting ***** on just one poison was something cherish-able these days. No compliant-ness from zanex to deal with, no war hero ptsd complex mind freeing Opium. No Ego filling Machoism from the coke, no just a simple buzz from the vino. I needed a refill, toppled the bottle upside down and hoped she’d catch it. I now had a raging hard one as she walked towards me so I remained cross legged half pretending to get up as she got close. I would have probably done one of many things to her there and then on this small round Carrera marble looking coffee table if I was hopped up on the above illicit favorite narcotics of mine. Not that I am such an a****l without a care in the world for my composure no, I had already scanned the place. It was quite a private setting in this corner of the lobby, a gentle table light glowed subtly indicating that this area was in use and therefore off limits to others of the hotel. Undoubtedly this was the kind of place you bring your hot mistress and not the whole family. A kind of nondescript boutique hotel, not a small family run one, no. One that was serviced by maybe 30 employees, very very modest and also one that may have had its hay day during the fabulous renaissance of Italy. The girl, she reminded me of a more regal time. She was proud of her family hotel and she had every right to be, I was proud that she sat beside me to indulge in conversation, a conversation I knew all to well. The one of lustful sex.
I decided then and there, this regal girl, I was going to draw the long draw. I cursed myself a second later as I wanted nothing more than to grab her and throw her on the cold round milky white surface and eat her little love clam then and there. I wanted to see nothing more than cum dripping from inside her and onto the small table as I shoved my whole self into her juicy narrow passage. My hand over her mouth, her nose open wide trying to cope with her heart beat which in turn was trying to cope with her pulsating pussy being deeply invigorated with the whole length of me going in and out so hard my balls hurt as they slammed right on her asshole I continued like a crazed baboon, beating at my chest with my remaining free hand. I wanted to put my nose inside her and smell the smell of regal hotelier pussy. However it was going to take a longer and hopefully more fulfilling journey. One that wouldn’t give me one of those great one time stories, no one that would see me fulfill many sexual escapades in this secretive town and its many tiny islands of Venice and its surrounding pastures.