by S. E. Law
“Well, Americans don’t like to think they have nobility, but there certainly is “royalty” of a type. For example, aren’t the Kennedys considered American royalty? Didn’t they call John F. Kennedy’s administration “Camelot”?”
I think for a moment.
“Yes, you’re right, but JFK is special. He had an airport named after him, and he was the scion of a powerful political family.”
“You see?” asks Domenico with a smile. “There are powerful families in the United States, just as there are in any country. Perhaps the United States doesn’t have a delineated caste system which names names, but at the same time, there are certain social, economic, and political forces at work which are invisible yet influential.”
I nod slowly.
“Yes, I know what you mean. There’s been so much talk about inequality these days, and how children born today will have lower standards of living than their parents. It’s sad if you ask me.”
Matteo looks at me somberly, even as his bronzed hands masterfully guide the wheel.
“Yes, and it’s a trend that’s occurring all over the developed world, even here in Italy. How can people improve their life situations? How can they do better? Where are the opportunities? Chissà la risposta?”
Domenico turns to smile at me once more.
“These are heavy topics for a pretty girl,” he says. “I’m impressed. I thought you didn’t go to college? Didn’t you say you joined Dads and Daughters as soon as you turned eighteen?”
I nod slowly, while gazing out the window again. The forest is beautiful, but I only see blurs of green and brown.
“Yes, I did. I don’t have much formal education. I transferred high schools five times between the ages of thirteen to seventeen, so I didn’t get too much learning while in the classroom. But I’ve always enjoyed learning on my own, and I try to read a lot to make up for any deficiencies.”
The two Italian men shoot me impressed looks.
“What do you read?”
I smile wryly.
“A lot of the New York Times, which is why I probably sound like I’m parroting them a lot. I also read Wikipedia, and I know that Wikipedia can be wrong, but it’s been a great resource. I definitely fall into Wiki holes sometimes.”
Domenico and Matteo laugh, white smiles breaking across their handsome faces.
“We like women who are resourceful,” begins Matteo.
“We’re glad that the club sent you to us,” adds Domenico with a meaningful glance my way. “If they’d given us a dummy, who knows where we’d be?” he asks rhetorically. “Probably still at the airport. Ah, here we are now,” he says, looking out the window with satisfaction. You see? The Lodge isn’t built yet.”
I was expecting to see wood framing and maybe even an open construction pit. But instead, I see a large structure that looks almost finished. There’s still obvious painting that needs to be done, and there’s no landscaping yet, but the Lodge is probably eighty percent of the way there. Like the Lodge I’m from, it’s a huge, cabin-like building that looks part ski lodge and part Aspen getaway. A tall, pitched roof made of logs reaches high in the sky, and there are multiple windows cut out from the log walls. There’s a wraparound porch that already has a few rocking chairs strategically placed, as well as a large set of wooden double doors.
“Come,” says Matteo, getting out of the car. He opens my door, and offers his hand. “Enough depressing talk. You are an intelligent, beautiful young woman, and my friend and I want to show you what we’ve been working on. Hopefully, it lives up to your standards.”
I laugh merrily, my heart lifting as I jump out of the car with Matteo’s hand to steady me. Domenico takes my other hand, and as a trio, the three of us make our way to the front door. I feel happy and elated. I’m finally in Italy, the land of my dreams, with two men who will show me the way.
105
Domenico
Melissa is sweet, curvy, and as Americans like to say, exactly our cup of tea. She’s a thousand times brighter than the brightest light, and a million times more stunning than the gorgeous Italian gazelles that stalk the runways of Milan.
After all, when the Americans said they’d send us a daughter, we weren’t expecting much. We thought the American girl would be middling at most. Perhaps she’d be uneducated and know nothing about our glorious Roman history. Perhaps she’d be entitled, and want to be waited on hand and foot.
But instead, Melissa is none of those things. While lacking in formal schooling, the curvy girl has found ways to educate herself. She reads prodigiously and exhibits a curiosity about things she’s unfamiliar with. She’s already begun to pick up Italian, and my friend Matteo and I are impressed. Many American tourists visit Italy and never pick up the language. They can manage a grazie or maybe a ciao, but not much else.
But this brunette bombshell is nothing like that. She absorbs information like a sponge, and even now, Melissa walks around our half-finished walls with eyes of wonder.
“This is beautiful,” she breathes. “It’s almost done. I thought you guys said that the Milan Lodge was nowhere near completion.”
I chuckle deep in my chest.
“Cara, that’s because you haven’t seen the rest of the structure yet. We’re past the framing stage, but a lot of things still need to be put in place, including electricity and plumbing.”
But Melissa isn’t listening. She’s walking over to the huge, arched entryway that leads into another sitting room, and gasping at the sheer size of the spaces.
“Holy cow,” she murmurs. “So you’re going to have three fireplaces?”
Matteo laughs, throwing his black hair back.
“Yes, if all goes as planned. We think it would add a homey touch to the cabin, don’t you think?”
Melissa giggles, her eyes dancing merrily.
“But this isn’t a cabin. This is a palace, albeit a rustic one.”
I wink at her.
“We have a lot of plans, cara,” I say. “We want the Milan chapter of Dads and Daughters to thrive, so we’re following the formula in your American movie Field of Dreams: build it and they will come.”
Melissa giggles again.
“That old Kevin Costner flick? It was good,” she agrees. “But did he actually end up attracting all the players he wanted?”
I shrug mirthfully.
“Who knows? It’s the spirit of the movie that draws us. So American. So hopeful, optimistic, and confident, even in the face of adversity. Build it and they will come. I love it. Lo adora.”
Melissa giggles too
“Lo amo anche io. I love it too.”
Domenico waves us onwards.
“Come on, slowpokes,” he growls. “Let’s look at something besides empty rooms.”
We laugh and follow him down a hallway. The hallway is still in a very rough state, but Melissa doesn’t seem to mind as sawdust comes up off the floor in plumes. The walls haven’t been finished yet, but she trails a finger along one edge suggestively.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I rasp. “I don’t want you to get a splinter.”
She laughs coyly, with a twinkle in her eye.
“No, it’s fine,” she says. “I love the smell of new wood though,” she adds, inhaling deeply. “It’s wonderful: piney and forest-y at once.”
I wink at her.
“Is forest-y a word?”
The pretty brunette laughs again.
“Probably not, but I like it.”
“Then I love it,” I say, smiling broadly again.
Matteo laughs too and opens a door on the left.
“You two stop flirting,” he commands with a grin. “Here’s where the bathroom is going to be. What do you think?”
Melissa steps inside and stops.
“Well, there isn’t much yet,” she says diplomatically. “I see they haven’t put the sinks in.”
I step in behind her, dwarfing the curvy girl with my huge form. Sure enough, there are two sinks lying on
their sides on the bare wooden floor.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize. “But the toilet should be hooked up, if you need to use it,” I say, pressing down on the handle. Sure enough, a whoosh sounds and the water in the bowl flushes out. But then a weird gurgling sound comes from the floor where the sinks lie, and we see some wetness seeping upwards.
“Oh shit!” exclaims Matteo, dropping to his knees immediately. He examines the wet spot as it grows. “The hook-ups weren’t shut off right. The workers weren’t finished with the job, but still. It’s important to close up correctly before leaving for the night.”
Melissa looks thoughtful.
“Where are the construction workers?” she asks, looking around. “Has the crew already left for the day?”
I grin at her.
“It’s Saturday, cara. Italians don’t work weekends, unlike Americans.”
The pretty girl blushes attractively.
“Oh right. I’m all mixed up from traveling and different time zones and whatnot. But okay. So we have the place to ourselves. Should we do something fun?” she asks with a cheeky grin.
My eyebrows raise and I meet Matteo’s eyes over her head. Is this girl thinking what we’re thinking? Slowly, my friend nods, and I throw Melissa a long look.
“Well, why don’t we show you something special about this bathroom?” I begin, reaching for a large sheet of wood. It’s thin and flexible, yet sturdy too. It’s about eight feet tall and six feet across, and most interestingly, there’s a cut-out the shape of a watermelon in the middle.
“What is that?” asks Melissa curiously. “Is that where the sink is going to go?”
I shake my head.
“No, not exactly. In fact, there’s supposed to be another cut-out right next to this one. The same size too.”
But Melissa’s still confused.
“It’s for the two sinks, right? This is a piece of the wall, and you’ll hook up the two sinks through these holes.”
I shake my head slowly again and meet Matteo’s eyes. This time, my friend speaks.
“Not exactly,” he says. “This is going to be a bathroom with a purple door. Do you have those at your Lodge?”
Melissa immediately grows alert.
“No,” she breathes. “But we have doors that are blue, and I know what that means.”
Matteo laughs deep in his chest.
“Exactly. Blue doors mean glory holes, and purple is a variation on that. Would you like to know what it means?” he asks.
Melissa is as still as a hummingbird as she trembles in place. Her bosom rises and falls, and I ache to stroke those soft mounds.
“No, what?” she asks.
“Well, these are reverse holes,” I growl. “The wall will go up around here,” I say, pulling the sheet of wood towards the center of the bathroom. “Women will stand here,” I say, gesturing to one side of the wood. “Men will be on the other side.”
But the curvy girl is still confused.
“I don’t understand,” she says. “These holes are far too big to serve their purpose. Of course, Italian men are huge,” she says quickly, blushing prettily. “It’s just that no one is this huge,” she says. “You could pass a baby through here.”
I laugh heartily, enjoying her confusion.
“No, it’s not for babies,” I reply. “The cut outs are for women. These are reverse glory holes, cara. Usually, with a cut-out, the man does the tempting. He puts his rod through the hole, and then the woman pleases him. But here, we have a different situation. The woman will use the hole. She will push her bottom through this cut-out, and then men will take her from the other side.”
Melissa’s jaw drops open as her eyes widen.
“Really?” she whispers hoarsely. “But how will she stay balanced?”
I nod.
“It’s easy. This plywood is actually made from the cara-cara tree, which is native to this very forest. Despite this strip of wood being thin, timber from the cara-cara is actually extremely sturdy and does not require reinforcement. You can see too that the holes are only about two feet off the ground. Thus, a woman will be able to lean over and push her bottom through the wall without her feet coming up off the floor.”
Melissa opens and closes her mouth a few times, her eyes still wide.
“So she’ll basically squat and cram her bottom through this oval?” she asks weakly.
Matteo steps in then.
“Yes,” he grinds out. “As you can see, we’re hoping to get a woman of a certain size. Skinny women will never be able to completely fill the hole, and they’ll be unstable. But curvy girls who have lots of flesh will be able to push themselves in and be “stuck” so to say. They’re the perfect size for men like us.”
Melissa gasps, her cheeks pink. She’s unable to tear her eyes from the holes.
“Oh my god,” she manages. “Holy shit. Who would have guessed?”
I use that opening to press our advantage.
“In fact, cara, we’ve been looking for a woman to test these holes,” I say silkily. “Would you like to be the first?
Her caramel gaze swings to my imposing frame, and then to Matteo’s. Her cheeks flame red, but I can tell that Melissa’s titillated. She wants this. I know she does, and sure enough, her voice comes out in a soft whisper.
“I’d love to,” she says musically. “Just show me how.”
Both my friend and I throw our heads back and laugh then because Melissa is about to get a dose of Italian adoration the best way: with two men loving and caressing her.
106
Melissa
I can’t believe this is happening. My heart beats like a drum as my pulse races. I’m in a small, enclosed area with the two most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, and they’ve propositioned me. Not only that, but I can’t wait.
After all, I’ve been with many men, but never men like this. Matteo and Domenico are sexy Italian studs with an air of charm that you can’t find in the United States. Not that I don’t appreciate the hard, huge, and hung truckers that I usually find myself with. It’s just that Italian truckers are different. They’re exotic and extremely sophisticated, with wit and charm that make me hunger for more.
Domenico and Matteo grin at me, their huge forms taking up all the space in the tiny bathroom.
“Are you ready?” they ask.
I nod.
“But the wall’s not even bolted in place yet,” I mewl. “How will it work?”
The two men fly into motion. Domenico holds the sheet of plywood upright while Matteo procures a hammer and nails from somewhere. They bolt, hammer and screw, and within a few minutes, there’s a solid structure ready to be played with.
“Wow, that was fast,” I breathe. “I had no idea you guys were so handy.”
They wink.
“Oh, we’re more than just handy with our hands,” growls Domenico. “But sweetheart, we have a special request for you. Will you listen and consider it?”
I stand up straight, squaring my shoulders. Hopefully they can’t see my hard nips through my sweater, but somehow, I know they can.
“Of course,” I say. “How can I help?”
The two men share another look, and the blue fire of their eyes becomes more intense.
“Well, you seem very practiced and at ease,” begins Matteo slowly.
“Which is something we appreciate,” Domenico adds quickly. “We like girls with experience because of what we want to do,” he says.
I stare at the huge men, cocking my head slightly.
“Which is? I’m all ears.”
Domenico and Matteo share another look, and then they nod once more.
“Well, you’re a very sensitive woman,” begins Matteo in a low voice. “So sensitive in fact, that I think you’ll be able to tell us apart.”
I laugh.
“Of course I can tell you apart,” I say. “You’re not twins.”
“Of course not,” inserts Domenico quickly. “But we don’t mean telling
us apart like that. We mean telling us apart in another, much more intimate way. Down there, if you will.”
This time, my jaw really drops open.
“Down there?” I whisper, my mouth going dry. “You mean, taking you both down there, and then seeing if I can tell you apart?”
The two men nod, their azure gazes flaring.
“Exactly, cara.”
“Both of you at once?” I squeak. “I mean, I have done that before but I didn’t know we were going to start out like that.”
Domenico and Matteo stiffen before my eyes, and as I watch, two huge poles harden within their pants legs. Oh my god, Domenico’s is so enormous that it wraps around his waist, while Matteo’s is so huge that it reaches almost to his knee. Can I take it? Can I take both of them at once? I swallow thickly, and meet their eyes with my own. I desperately want to try, and nod slightly.
But then the men laugh hoarsely again.
“No, not at once initially, baby girl, although of course, we’re happy to do that. Double penetration is something we definitely enjoy, with us in each of your holes, or with both of us in one hole, if you’re open to it.”
“I am,” I breathe. “I can do Double V as well as Double A.”
Both men inhale sharply, their gazes focusing.
“Double V as well as Double A?” asks Matteo slowly, shaking his head as if he can’t believe the gift he’s been given.
“Mio Dio,” rasps Domenico. “We have been blessed to find you, Melissa.”
I giggle a little and my cheeks flush a pretty pink once more.
“I can do it, but is that what you had in mind?” I prompt again.
The alpha males regain their senses and shake themselves to alertness.
“No, not this first time,” growls Matteo. “You see, we want to see if a woman can tell us apart. Meaning, you’ll take one of us in yourself, getting used to a man’s particular feel. His length and depth, so to say. Then you’ll take the other of us into yourself and get used to his feel as well. We want to know if after a certain amount of practice and usage, you can differentiate between us.”
