I followed him into the warmth of the bistro, the smells of pasta and pizza overwhelming. Was it a dream? I felt as if I were in a haze, walking like a zombie, being led by an irresistible siren.
“Well-uh?” Patricio asked as he took another bite of the pizza. “The best-a in Rome, not for tourists.” He licked his lower lip and I almost fainted!
“Delicious,” I had to admit. And it was actually quite delicious. With my thoughts and feelings centered on Patricio, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
“Simon,” Patricio stared straight into my eyes. “I like-uh you very, very much.”
“I like you, too, Patricio,” I gulped. “I more than like you,” I added and knew that he could translate this simple statement into much deeper meaning.
“If you don’t have any plans for this evening,” he said in a low voice, “I’d like-a to spend some time-uh with you, in my place.”
Oh, my God! Oh, God, yes! Yes!
I must have blushed for he quickly continued: “I’m-a sorry, Simon, if I’m pushing-uh, but I really like-a you.”
What had Patricio seen in me? I am a few years older, perhaps 3 or 4 inches shorter, with plain looks.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, my heart beating fast, my stomach fluttering, my balls and ass twitching. “Yes, Patricio, I would like that a lot.”
Patricio’s “place” was a second-story loft, open space with corners for a small kitchen and a bathroom and the rest cluttered with two couches and a couple of arm chairs. What struck me most was the masculinity of the loft. There were no flowers or paintings or knick-knacks. But the place, with its wood-covered floor, looked and felt warm and comfortable.
Before taking off our coats and scarves, Patricio pulled me to him and planted his lips on mine. He tasted a mixture of tobacco and tomato, the most delicious taste I had ever had experienced. I heard myself moan, felt my knees weaken. I held onto him in a tight embrace, his arms holding me around the waist. I was simply turning into jelly.
We broke and Patricio smiled at me.
“I knew you were going-uh to be hot, Simon,” he teased, “right-a-after I saw the fresco picture you took. Tell-a-me, where do you want-a-to be?”
At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. But then I quickly realized that he was referring to the fresco.
“Riding your cock,” I said, not believing myself. I had fantasized about him lying naked on the couch with me straddling him, his cock buried deep inside me.
Patricio laughed out loud. “Yes-uh,” he said. “Oh, Simon, yessss-uh.”
We kissed some more and then took the time to shed off our clothes. Patricio naked looked even more delicious than how I had fantasized him to be. His chest and belly were flat with his abs chiseled around the patch of hair in the middle and the trail going down.
On the couch I made him lie on his back and I fished out his cock out from his thermal underwear. I had already taken off all of my clothes and was naked and hard.
Patricio’s cock was unbelievingly long. Uncut, veined, and thin. I loved it. Going down on what must have been at least ten inches by my estimation wasn’t as difficult as I had experienced with thicker but shorter dicks. It was amazing. I kept swallowing for what seemed like ages and there was no end to the beautifully hard shaft slowly sliding through my throat. I finally felt the beginning of his pubes tickling my nose and I kept going until my lips pursed around the very base of his manhood.
Patricio made me turn around and he went hungrily on my cock. We 69-ed for a while but I craved for this fantastic Italian cock to be inside me.
I straddled him, just like in the fresco. I am not loose. It usually takes some work on my rim muscle to relax enough to be able to take a man cock. But with Patricio, it was totally different. My lust loosened me. With just some spit, without condom protection, he penetrated and I sat all the way down on his crotch. Miles of bare cock went into me.
When I finally settled onto him, my balls deep in his thick pubes, I felt as if the length of his cock passed through my insides and the head was going to emerge from my mouth. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and reveled in the fullness in my body. Patricio lay under me, not moving, staring into my eyes. He reached up and fondled my nipples, increasing the sensations flooding me.
Ever so slowly, I supported myself onto his fairly hairy chest and started to fuck myself. The whole length out, the whole length in. Patricio was breathing hard, his hands all over my chest, down to my balls, around my cock shaft, teasing my nipples, pushing his middle finger into my mouth. Amazingly, I didn’t lose my erection, which had usually been the case whenever I had a hard cock up my ass. Actually, I was harder than I had ever been before.
Without losing contact, Patricio flipped me onto the couch on my back and started his fucking. He fucked hard and long. I rocked under him, my legs wrapped tightly around his slim waist, my arms around on his muscled and rippling thighs. He bent down and kissed me, never losing his tempo. Cock deep, tongue deep. Without warning, I shot my load between our naked and sweating bodies. Strings of cum exploded out of my cock, as if forever. My usual load would be around 4 or 5 squirts. If I was really excited, maybe 6 squirts and some drippings. But I had never shot a load with a cock in my ass. Now I felt as if I was never going to stop coming. On and on, I squirted, squeezing my rim muscle around his invading cock.
With a loud grunt, Patricio thrust deep and started his own ejaculation. I hadn’t finished coming, and my ass squeezing on his cock must have made him go crazy with his shooting. We were both beyond reason or rationality. We were two men experiencing the most fantastic explosions, the emptying of balls, which two men could have.
I said ciao and took a cab back to the hotel. I showered and masturbated. I climbed into my bed and masturbated some more. I woke up in the middle of the night, took a piss and masturbated. I woke up in the morning with a rock hard cock and masturbated. All the while, there was the image of Patricio topping me, his cock filling me, bringing me to the edge. The image was more vivid each time I jerked off.
On the flight back home, I maintained a semi-erection throughout. Even now, writing about it, I have had to stop more than once, run to the bathroom and masturbate, the image of Patricio topping me.
How often could one get so lucky? My only regret is that I hadn’t gone on tour to Pompeii the first day of my week-long trip. But, then again, I wouldn’t have been able to visit all the places I visited. I would have had Patricio’s cock inside me, wouldn’t I?