I didn't have time to think then. He jerked his hips and I took him deep, sucked until my cheeks hollowed, and when I did he grunted loudly, something like sì, but I wasn't sure, and it didn't matter because I felt something thick, hot, and salty hit my tongue, and then another spasm and another shot of his come splashed against my throat and ran down. I swallowed, realizing I didn't have much choice, because he was still coming, another gush of tangy, thick heat in my mouth.
He gasped again, raggedly, and I slipped him out of my mouth, but continued to move my hands on him until he captured my wrists in his hands and pulled me up against his chest. I wiped my lips on my wrist, still tasting his come, still feeling his cock stretching my lips and jaw.
I wasn't sure what I thought of having given my first blow job. I tried to analyze my feelings. It wasn't bad, I didn't dislike it. He was gasping and trembling still, clutching me against him as if he never wanted to let go. I liked that part. I liked what it did to him. I didn't like gagging, but if I didn't take him so deep next time that wouldn't happen. The rest was...fun. His come didn't taste bad at all. I loved his cock, loved feeling it, holding it, tasting it.
"Mio dio, Delilah," Luca whispered into my hair. "That was...sorprendente...amazing."
I nuzzled his shoulder, pleased and embarrassed. "You liked it?" I ran my hands on his chest and belly. "I mean...I did okay, for my first time?"
Luca laughed, incredulous. "Okay? Dio, Delilah. I've never...never was it so good. You have never done that before? I am not so sure I believe you. What did you think?"
I shrugged, uncomfortable talking about it. "It was...fun, for the most part. I liked how much you liked it."
"But?"
"I'm not sure I like gagging on you, though."
Luca laughed, gently. "Well, that is...how do I say it with tact? You do not have to allow that to happen. Most women...I know, do not like that, either. It is a thing that they think men like, so some will do it, to please the man, or to impress, perhaps? But I think the men who like to see a woman feel gagged in that action, it is only because they find some...perverse pleasure in the...I cannot think of the word. To make feel less? To downgrade?"
"Degrade?"
"Yes, that is it, thank you. Those men like to degrade the woman, to feel themselves more powerful." Luca nudged my face so I was looking at him; his eyes were gentle and affectionate, frighteningly so. "Delilah, you must please listen closely. I do not like that. To degrade you, it is...not my wish. I want you to feel good for yourself. To have esteem about your mind and your body and your heart, all of you. I do not wish that kind of pretended, negative power over you."
He kissed me, put a finger over my lips to forestall anything I might say.
"To pleasure me like that...with your mouth, it feels good for me, yes? But not so good as being with you, in you. If you wish to do that, of your own choice, then I will like it. But do not think you must, or should, or need to, only to please me." He brushed his fingers through my hair, smiling at me. "You understand?"
I nodded.
"Now...let me see what I can do to make you feel as I do," Luca said, smiling at me.
He kissed my throat, and then my shoulder, and then between my breasts. I felt his palms skim my skin, slide past my face and to my nipples. I felt a quiver hit my belly, a rush of pure anticipation. He'd done this once before, so I knew what he was going to do and how it would feel, and good gravy, did I want it. I wanted his tongue on me, his fingers in me, right then. But, of course, he made me wait. I suppose that's a good thing, since it enhanced the anticipation. He traveled down my body with his lips at a leisurely pace, slipping lower and lower, lips touching the curves of my breasts, the padded bone of my ribs, the ivory drum of my belly. I trembled all over, tangled my fingers in his hair, my breath coming faster and faster as he moved closer to my wet, aching sex. He was so close, I wanted to push his face into me, but I didn't. I forced my hands to rest lightly in his inky hair and wait for him to find my folds at his own pace.
Time seemed to stop as he grew nearer to my pussy, kissing the round muscle of my thighs, outside first, then the inside. I ached, feeling a whelming pressure in the depths of my womanhood. One of his hands found my breast, cupped and palmed and held it, then rolled a taut nipple between gentle, calloused fingers. I gasped, and then moaned as he lapped at my labia, slow upward strokes at first, testing my folds, tasting them.
"Yes, Luca, more..." I said, the words escaping from me.
He complied, drove his tongue into me, split my nether lips apart to taste my juices. His unoccupied hand trailed across my belly, past his chin, and two fingers slipped into my pussy, curled up to stroke the sensitive patch of rough skin. I whimpered and arched my back. He rolled his tongue around my clit, pinching my nipple and circling my G-spot all in the same motion, same rhythm. Faster now, bringing my hips to a bucking frenzy and my breathing to ragged gasps...and then he slowed, almost to a stop.
I did pull his face against me then, and he resumed a quick lapping, but matched it with a slow circling of his fingers inside me while flicking my nipple gently. I couldn't think of much, but I did have a moment of respect for his ability to multi-task.
Now the whelming pressure in my loins spread, turned molten and then fiery. The trembling in my legs became shaking, the quivering in my belly became a desperate rolling of my hips into his mouth.
All at once, everything exploded. I saw stars flash across my eyes and every muscle in my body turned liquid, jellified by electric orgasm. Luca's breath sucked in against my folds, a blast of cold air, and then he breathed out, a gout of hot air, and then the electricity became unbearable, overwhelming. My trembling and shaking became spastic and my moans shrieks of pleasure as he licked and licked, stroked and stroked.
And then I passed the point of frenzy and fell into helplessness, my legs going limp, my hands heavy on his shoulders, and I felt a lazy thought float through me: I wonder if his jaw and tongue get tired?
I drew him up to me, clutching his head by the jaw and ears, clumsy and floppy, seeing flashes in front of my eyes, aftershocks shuddering my entire lower half. I clung to him, barely able to breathe.
Just when I was beginning to catch my breath and cease trembling, I felt something nudge my hip. I knew what it was, rolled to my side and smiled at Luca as I wrapped my fingers around his thick, rigid, ready cock. It wasn't so limp, suddenly.
Luca leaned over me, touched his lips to mine, a hesitant, questing brush. I lifted up to deepen the kiss, pulled him over on top of me. My hands rested on his back as we kissed, in no hurry for this moment, simply reveling in the exploration of mouths. I felt his fingers hunt for my opening, and then his soft yet firm tip pierced me, slid deep into my pussy and fluttered with our hips flush.
He didn't pull out and thrust yet but stayed deep, light, delicate flits, just enough to send thrills up my spine. I pulled my knees up to allow him deeper, rocked my buttocks to get a good thrust out of him, growing impatient now. I wanted the motion, wanted the glide in and slip out, the build of pressure and spread of fire.
Luca wrapped his arms underneath my knees and lifted my legs up and straightened his torso. Kneeling over me now, he shifted forward, rested my heels on his shoulders, and then thrust.
I went cross-eyed with ecstasy. He was deeper than I thought possible this way, and then he withdrew so only the broad tip of his cock was inside. He pulsed there, at my entrance, clutching my ass to hold me aloft.
He drove hard, slashing into my wet pink folds. I arched my back, grasped at the sheet, and breathed a whimper. Out again, a brief ache of absence, and then he was gliding in and back out, and again, smooth, slow strokes. No rhythm yet, just Luca's throbbing manhood plunging in to stutter against my farthest inner wall, stuttering, slipping, sliding, Luca's gorgeous features limned with sweat and moonlight, his marvelously muscled body moving, contorting, shifting.
"God yes, Luca," I breathed. "More. Harder."
"Harder?" Luca gr
inned and clutched my thighs against his chest. "This I can do...mia bella Delilah."
Harder he went, moving into me with primal rhythm, resting his cheek against my ankle, kissing my leg, thrusting hard and hard and hard, and now...oh, god...
I was splintered by lightning in my belly, broken apart by a flood of release. I came again, a coiling detonation flinging me into the furthest fires of passion. And still he moved, lost within me now, delving deep and drawing nearly out, eyes closed, mouth curled in feral grin, midnight locks of hair drifting across his brow, olive skin sheened with sweat.
He grunted, a low growl in the bottom of his throat, adjusted his grip on my legs and thrust harder, faster, deeper. I was drowning in climax, rolling, rollicking, frenzied and wild, shrieking as he plunged into me.
This was better than the last one, which had been better than the one before...if this continued, I couldn't fathom what they would feel like in a day, a week.
He came, then, and oh, my god, he came hard. He crashed into me, hot wet seed flooding through me, spurting against my walls with every thrust, his face thrown back to the ceiling and locked in a rictus of pleasure as he plunged into me. Our bodies clashed together, came together. At length, Luca went still, pulled out and collapsed next to me, cradling my head on his chest and curling an arm around me.
I slept, then held close, feeling safe and protected.
When I woke, the sun was shining high through the window and Luca was in the shower. I slid up in bed, feeling sore in a pleasant way, sated and yet hungry. My netbook was in my bag next to the bed, and I opened it to write this entry. Luca emerged from the shower about a thousand words ago, kissed me, caressed me, distracted me, and then left to bring back breakfast and let me write. I'm done now, I think, and ready for a shower.
The question is answered, in my mind.
I'm going to Firenze with Luca. I don't know if I'll stay at his parents' house or not, but I'll decide that when we get there.
JUNE 13
Luca drove a pretty little red Citroën DS4. I showed a hint of interest in how pretty the little car was, and like men the world over, Luca was off and running, a flood of half-English, half-Italian exuberance over its performance specs and features and whatnot. What I took away from his impromptu lecture was, primarily, its name, that it was fast, and it was pretty. Most little cars like that get called "cute," but somehow Luca's car didn't seem cute to me. It was pretty, like a sports car almost.
We left Rome around eleven in the morning after a leisurely breakfast in the hotel room.
"How long will it take to get to Florence?" I asked.
"Oh, it is a sort of long drive," Luca said. "Perhaps three hours? If we go direct and without stopping, possible less. But I think maybe we will stop some of the way there and have a lunch."
I laughed. "You call three hours a long drive?"
Luca smiled at me. "It is kind of long. Remember, I drive all over Italia selling the wines, so I am in the car all the time. For me, it is not so long. For someone who only lives in one city and does not often leave, yes, it would be trip for a whole day."
"Three hours is nothing," I said. "My ex-husband's family lives in Montana, and we drive—used to drive, I mean...from Illinois to Missoula for the holidays. Now, that's a long drive."
"These places, they are a long way apart?" Luca asked.
"It's a full twenty-four hours of driving. We live—lived, I mean—near Peoria, which is central Illinois, and his folks lived in Missoula, which is near the far western border of Montana. It's, like...fifteen hundred miles? A little more?"
"And how often did you do this holiday?"
"Oh, at least once a year. We'd drive up for Thanksgiving and they'd come down for Christmas. Sometimes we'd switch."
Luca glanced at me, one hand resting on the gear shifter. "Do you miss him? Tell me truly."
I stared out the window and the lush scenery passing by, thinking. "I've tried not to think about it. I guess I do, in a way. I mean, I was with him for thirteen years, from high school to just a few days ago. That's like...half my life, with one man. He was wrapped in everything I did, everything I was." I bit my lip, trying to keep the emotions back. "It's been hard sorting him out of my thoughts, out of my decisions. I've been just not thinking about him, since I'm so angry at him. But...really, if I look deep, and hard, I realize I was unhappy. I just didn't understand it, or see it, until after everything happened."
Luca reached for my hand. "You can talk about it, Delilah. I will not be hurt, or upset. You need to talk about your feelings." I must have smirked at the idea of a man telling me to talk about my feelings, because he laughed and squeezed my hand. "Do not laugh at me. I am not saying I am so good at this for myself, but I know it is needed to be healthy. You have had your life upended. I am your friend, first and most importantly."
This made my eyes burn and sting. I blinked furiously and squeezed his hand. When I could breathe again, I said, "Thank you, Luca. That means a lot to me. I don't know what to say, though. I just have to keep moving, one day at a time. I've been pretending, even to myself, that I don't care, that I'm too angry to care. But now that it's been a few days...I'm hurt. I gave half my life to the bastard. He was my first and only sexual partner, until I met you. It never even crossed my mind that he might be cheating on me."
Luca nodded, his eyes hard. "To be cheated on is difficult. I know this, too, from my own experiences."
"It just keeps making me wonder what's wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for him."
Luca glanced at me, lifted my knuckles to his lips. "No, mia bella. You must not think this. I, too, wondered the same thing when Lia told me she had been sleeping with someone else. 'Why am I not good enough?' I asked myself, over again and over again. But in time I came to know that it was not me, not my fault. I loved her, and did all that I could for her. But what you must know within your heart and mind is that for some people, there is nothing that will ever be enough."
I shrugged. "It's just...the woman I caught him with...she was older than me, and, objectively speaking, not very attractive. But she was—she was skinny."
"Delilah, you cannot think—"
"I'm not hung up on that, really. At least, not much. It's hard not to be, at least a little bit. I'm not skinny, never have been, never will be, and I'm fine with that. I like who I am and what I look like. But, when you catch your husband in bed with a skinny old hag with floppy titties, it's hard not to think he picked her over you because you're not skinny."
"He picked her over you because he is an idiot," Luca said. "They say that some men only think with their dicks, but I think these kind of men, the ones who leave or cheat on amazing, beautiful women, they do not think at all. They only do what they think in the very moment they think it. It is thinking with instinct, but another word."
"Impulsive," I suggested. "I guess that fits Harry pretty well. He was kind of impulsive about things."
Luca pulled the car to a stop in little town off the main highway, where we ate some delicious food and shared a bottle of wine. It seemed odd to be drinking wine at noon, but it seemed perfectly normal to Luca, so I went along with it. I don't think Luca even felt anything from the glass and a half he drank, but I was filled with a warm buzz in my blood, a deep happiness settling over my shoulders like a blanket. The sun was shining, the sky clear blue, the air cool in the shade of the building.
"Would you care to take a walk with me?" Luca asked.
"Sure," I said.
Luca paid the bill and we set out, hand in hand. Luca had a blanket it in the back seat of his car, "for emergencies," he said, in case he ever had to sleep in the car. He folded it into a compact square and carried it under his arm. Beyond the little village where we'd eaten the land was lush, rolling hills and fields dotted with bursts of trees, scattered villages, and farms and vineyards. Luca led me away from the roads and the villages up into the forested hills, a gentle but strenuous hike away from civilization. Birds called, fla
pped, and trilled, and the wind soughed around us, clattering the leaves and cooling the sweat on my face.
After maybe half an hour of hiking, Luca stopped us on the crest of a hill beneath a tree with wide, leafy, overhanging branches, providing shade from the hot Italian sun. We lay down side by side on our backs, watching the clouds drift between the leaves.
Luca rolled to his side and rested a hand on my stomach. He didn't do anything further, but the look in his eyes told me enough. We were far from anyone, and I was feeling daring. I met his eyes and unzipped my shorts, shimmied them down, sat up, unhooked my bra, and stripped my shirt off. Being naked outside was a rush, another new experience.
Luca's fingers skimmed down my belly, across my thighs, brushed past my labia and then drifted upward. He didn't touch me sexually yet, running his hands over my skin, exploring every inch of my body. He stroked my arms, my hands, and my sides, cupped the curve of my breasts and my hips, glided his fingers over my thighs and calves and feet. Once he'd mapped my body with his hands, he did it all over again, but now with his lips.
I lay still and let him do as he wished, but with every touch of his hands, every hot, moist kiss of his lips, I felt my heart beating harder. This wasn't sex, somehow. What he was doing was more, was...intimate. Loving.
I felt the pounding in my heart take on the rhythm of fear: run, run, run. I didn't want him to love me. If he loved me, it would mean I'd have to love him back, and that was terrifying. I'd loved a man for half my life and been burned. I thought I knew him, thought I trusted him, thought he cared. It turned out I was wrong. I'd known Luca for barely forty-eight hours, and the idea that he could care enough to kiss and touch me so delicately, with such reverence...it sent shudders of fear rippling through my body next to the pleasure of his touch.
I didn't know what to do with it, what to say, what to feel. On the one hand, I was desperate to be touched, to be loved. The realization that Harry had been cheating on me probably for our entire relationship made every moment we'd spent together meaningless, empty, and worthless. He'd never loved me. So now, with Luca branding my flesh with his tender touch, I found I needed more, wanted more, even though it scared me.
Delilah's Diary #2: La Vita Sexy Page 2
