Subject: NEW STORY - Gina - part 1. M/F, F/m, F/f, m/f - sex and sexual situations,
cons and non cons spanking
From: elfellie@juno.com
Date: 23 Jan 1998 16:34:02 -0800
NEW STORY - Gina - part 1. M/F, F/m, F/f, m/f - sex and sexual situations, cons and non cons spanking
If you are under 18, or are offended by stories involving spankings of adults and pre-teens then please do not read. Thank you.
Gina lay, nestled in Peter's arms feeling all was well with the world. They had been married fourteen years, and were still as in love, probably more so, than they had been when they were first wed. Theirs was a very comfortable marriage; not comfortable in the sense that they were staid; far from it; it was comfortable in that she felt completely safe and secure in her marriage. He was devoted to her, constantly showering her with affection, flowers, and Opera tickets. She couldn't help but smile with intense satisfaction as she reveled in the afterglow of the lovemaking they had just enjoyed.
Gina carefully extricated herself from Peter's embrace, walked over to the window of their hotel room and looked over beautiful Lago Di Lugano. She marveled at the clear reflection of silvery moonlight on it's serene surface. Her glance was drawn up to the majesty and splendor of the Swiss Alps. She looked back at Peter, sleeping like a baby, and smiled. How grateful she was for his love. How blessed she was to have a husband like Peter, who spent almost every waking moment with her; even on business trips like this he was never happy unless she would accompany. Fortunately her mother was more than willing to look after their two pre-teen children, leaving the two lovers alone.
She smiled as she rubbed her sore bottom. Peter had given her a harder spanking than he usually did back in their home in Milan. Perhaps there he was afraid of alerting the children to their mutual love of spanking games. He didn't seem to worry about alerting the folks in the next room; so what! Neither was she. She loved being spanked by him. At home their spankings were usually mild, more like extended caresses and cuddles; but here, away from home, he had spanked her long and hard with hand, strap, and cane. Through the flimsy material of her negligee she could feel the weals on her bottom. Peter seemed to know exactly what her limits were; he knew exactly how to start slowly, how to build up, and to take her over the edge of her pain into sublime ecstasy. As he had applied the cane to her bottom, she experienced an almost violent orgasm. His timing and his impeccable understanding of her were almost mystical. Again she could not hold back her wide smile; not once in their long relationship had she ever had to use her safe word.
She looked over to the mirror at her reflected profile. Her full breasts, wide hips and ample bottom did not by any stretch of the imagination make her look fat, rather, voluptuous; like the famous Italian film star after whom she had been named. Quite unlike the skinny eleven year-old kid she had been when she had first met Peter, a long twenty-three years ago...
"Gina will you hurry up!"
"But mother, do I have to go?"
In response her mother pointed to the strap hanging on the wall. "Your father will be using that on your backside if you are not in the car in five minutes."
It was all the encouragement Gina needed. She had not felt that strap many times, thank God; her mother could usually obtain the desired effect simply pointing at it. Gina loved her mother and father dearly, and they were devoted parents, but she well knew that pointing at the strap was not an empty gesture. She had been looking forward to a long summer with her friends here in Milan. What a wonderful city it was. How the tourists could possibly love Rome over Milan was beyond her comprehension. Oh Rome was OK, but it was too manicured. Gina loved the industrial rawness of the principal city in Northern Italy. And besides, who could possibly endure that awful Southern Italian food. And, the icing on the cake, La Scalla. The foremost opera house in the world. Gina's parents had unleashed a demon the first time they took her to see Rigoletto; opera had become her life. At eleven she was a most unusual child/woman - a truly sophisticated Milanese.
Now, she was faced with having to endure six weeks of her precious summer in, of all places Varese, a small insignificant town in the province of Lombardy. Friends of her Momma had offered to put Gina up while she traveled with Poppa to Japan on an extended business trip. And there was nothing poor Gina could do about it!
Gina became more and more frustrated, determined NOT to enjoy herself as the miles between her and her beloved Milan grew. She tried desperately to resist the spontaneous urge to delight in the beauty of the countryside; She was NOT going to enjoy this trip.
As they arrived in Varese, she was surprised how big it actually was. The architecture was beautiful. The piazzas were bustling and alive. The churches reverent and awe inspiring. Gina 'harumphed' to herself. No! No! She was not going to give this town any room at all. She was determined not to enjoy this stay, and if possible, to make it obvious so as to spoil her parent's trip to Japan. She looked at her mother's shining face. She had grown up in Varese, so it probably did have *some* redeeming features. Gina loved her mother. She was so enlightened, educated, smart, and beautiful. She felt guilty, and retracted her last thought. No, she would keep her disdain to herself.
They drove through the town, and wound their way up a curving, narrow road that led up the side of a particularly picturesque mountain. They pulled into a huge drive, leading up to a mansion. Gina's mouth hung open. This was beautiful. They pulled around the back of the house, and there before them was beautiful Lago Di Varese. Momma's friend was sitting in the gazebo, and jumped up as they pulled to a stop on the graveled drive. Poppa cut the engine, and Momma jumped from the car and threw herself into her friend's arms. She was much more 'well-built' than her Momma; she looked like a provincial thought Gina superciliously.
"Gina, this is my good friend Rita." Gina smiled and dipped her head. Rita certainly had a generous smile, and a charming way about her.
"Well, Gina, perhaps you should call me 'Aunt Rita'," she said good naturedly. Gina took an immediate liking to this wonderful woman, feeling somewhat guilty for her initial impression.
Gina's attention was immediately diverted. Was that the strains of 'Lucia di Lammermoor' coming from an open window? Gina was almost hypnotized as she walked toward the house. Here in Varese?
"That'll be Peter. He loves opera." Gina whirled around. Could this be possible? A provincial loving opera? Rita tried to whisper to Gina's momma, "I'm afraid he's not too happy about us putting Gina up for six weeks," but Gina heard it clearly. "Come child, I'll introduce you to the reprobate!" she laughed.
They walked into the luxurious drawing room. The record player was too loud for this delicate, sad, insane opera.
"Peter!" no response. "Peter!" He turned around sullenly. Gina gasped. He was as beautiful a boy as she had ever seen. Two, maybe three years her senior, and - beautiful. Black hair carelessly flopped over his deep brown eyes. The casual, far away look in his eyes disappeared as soon as cast his eyes on Gina. He stood up, too quickly, and stumbled, falling flat on the floor. Gina was barely able to suppress a giggle. He blushed furiously.
"Don't you think Lucia is a little fragile to be this loud?" Gina said, wondering if she would be heard over the glorious strains of the opera. Peter stared at her, with an inane open-mouthed stare.
"What? Oh! Yes, I suppose she is." He quickly turned down the volume.
"Well, why don't we leave you two to get to know each other," said Peter's momma, and the two old friends, arm-in-arm, left the room.
"You like opera?"
"Oh yes," replied Gina. "Donizetti is one of my favorites."
Peter stirred in the bed. Gina turned around and looked at his powerful chest as it rose and fell with his steady breathing. She loved him so, but she also lusted after him. She slipped her shoulders out of her negligee and let it fall to the floor. She stood there, naked, willing him to wake up and look at her body. Oh how she loved him looking at her body. She thought of the first time he had seen her naked and she gasped with pleasure.
Summer was proving to be the most wonderful experience she had ever had. Peter was not only a fellow opera-phile, but good fun too. True, he did treat her like a kid sister, but he took her everywhere he went. Long walks in the woods near his home; the cafes in the piazzas. Gina was amazed how different something as simple as calzone tasted from Milan to Varese. Gina, even at the young age of eleven, imagined what it would be like to be married to him. To be his lover. To have him kiss her. The thoughts did not overpower her, they simply hovered; stirred gently within her young, feminine body. They hardly ever touched, except if he was helping her to climb up a hill, or down from a tree. But those moments were precious.
As the time drew on Gina found herself filled with mixed emotions. She wanted to get back to her beloved Milan, but she also wanted to stay with Peter for the rest of her life. Magically, after she had been there for five weeks, they almost kissed. He had been helping her down from a rock and she had stumbled and fallen into his arms, her arms around his neck. Their lips had barely touched, almost brushed together. Was eleven too young to find a husband Gina wondered? The moment held; forever frozen in Gina's memory. Sometimes, at night when Peter was away, it was this thought, this moment, that returned to her private fantasy, and brought her the pleasure and release she needed.
Later that evening, as Gina climbed out of her bath something happened, that became a defining moment in both of their lives. She was drying herself and admiring herself in the mirror. She was just beginning to show the signs of her developing womanhood. Mere buds of breasts, and wisps of hair between her legs, but it was a start, she smiled to herself. She turned around and admired her back. Long, lean, supple lines from her shoulders to her perfectly rounded bottom cheeks. Her hips were still boyish, not yet filling out to the form that would mark her as a bearer of children.
Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the window. Peter was trying to stare in through the frosted glass! She let out a loud, guttural scream.
It was an instinctive reaction, and she immediately regretted it. Within moments Aunt Rita was banging on the door.
"Gina, what's the matter? Are you all right in there? Open the door." Gina wrapped the towel around herself and quickly unlocked the door. "What's the matter?" she asked again.
"Oh nothing," lied Gina, but her furtive glance at the window betrayed her. Aunt Rita strode purposefully over to the window, threw it wide, just in time to see Pete scurrying away.
"Peter!" she shouted. "Come here at once! Come to the kitchen at once!" She shook her head. "Gina, sweety, can you get dressed quickly and come to the kitchen also."
Five minutes later Gina walked into the kitchen. Peter and Aunt Rita were already there. The silence was electric.
"Gina, Peter has told me what happened, and he wants to say something."
Peter looked pleadingly in his Momma's eyes, but found no relief.
"Gina, I am sorry for peeping in the window," he said, his eyes downcast. He was obviously mortified, and Gina felt terrible. Why, oh why had she not remained silent?
"Gina, I am so sorry this happened to you. You may leave while I deal with Peter." Gina turned and walked away, but she could not help but follow Peter's pitiful gaze to the strap, not unlike the one her parents had, hanging on the back of the kitchen door.
As she walked from the kitchen she heard the fateful pronouncement, "Peter, fetch the strap!" She lingered, longer than she should, just enough to hear the strap being applied to Peter's bottom. Was that bare flesh it was striking? No, it couldn't be - could it? Never in her life had Gina been strapped or even spanked on her bare bottom; she had always been allowed to leave her knickers on. Surely Peter was not being strapped on his bare bottom. She felt so sorry for him, but, she heard no cries escape his lips.
Peter was not at dinner that night. Later, as she lay in bed, restlessly, Gina found herself midst a flood of conflicting emotions. Had Peter seen her naked body? The thought embarrassed her; it excited her; it disgusted her. She felt so sorry that he had been strapped, but at the same time, the image of him being bent over and strapped on his bare bottom also excited her; embarrassed her; disgusted her. The image shifted; it was her being strapped by Aunt Rita. The thought excited and intrigued her. She loved Aunt Rita and could almost imagine being spanked by her. The beginnings of arousal insinuated itself upon her, unbidden. She was too young to recognize these feelings, and lay there, fitfully, desperately wanting sleep which would not come. She must have eventually drifted into sleep, because she dreamed of a world in which Peter never spoke to her again. She woke crying, resolved not to belong to such a world. She would, somehow, make it up to him.
She walked into the kitchen for breakfast, to the sounds of Peter and his Momma sharing good humored parent-child conversation. Only Peter's furiously blushing face as Gina looked over to the strap betrayed the change in the situation. Breakfast began awkwardly, but Aunt Rita's charming, bubbling good nature soon had them all chatting as if nothing had happened.
Looking at Peter now, a successful business man, a pillar of the community and the church, she wondered what the parishoners would think of his behaviour; then and now. She smiled. If only they knew. She smiled again, rubbing her sore bottom again and wondered how many of those faithful, church-going women would change places with her.
Later as they walked in the woods, Gina was able to find the words she wanted to say. "Peter, I am so sorry."
"For what Gina?" he said innocently, "It was completely my own fault. I was a stupid fool."
"No you weren't," said Gina, "I mean, I never should have screamed," she added quickly, afraid he may have misunderstood her.
"Gina, I really didn't mean any harm. And truly, I am sorry for scaring you like that."
"You didn't scare me. I was a little startled, that's all."
"Oh."
There was an awkward silence.
"Peter," Gina began.
"Yes. What?"
"Peter, did you - you know - did you - see anything."
He hung his head. "Gina, I've said I'm sorry, and truly I am."
"No, that's not what I meant. Did you see my - did you see me naked?" Peter looked up and smiled.
"Actually, no. I didn't see a thing. It's impossible to see through that glass from the outside." He laughed at the irony of the predicament he had put himself into the night before; and for what! He slumped down on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree.
"If you knew you would not be able to see in, why did you try."
He blushed. He said nothing.
"Peter. Why did you try?"
"I was hoping; that's all."
Gina sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm. "Hoping what?"
"Well, I thought, for a moment, you know, that maybe I would be able to see you if I pressed my face really close to the glass."
"You wanted to see me with no clothes on?"
Peter bowed his head again and blushed.
"Well, yes I did." He looked up at Gina. "You are very cute you know." Gina felt that stirring within her again.
"You could have just asked," she whispered.
Not believing his ears, Peter merely exclaimed, "What?"
"I said, if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked me. I would have let you." Her voice trailed off as she completed the sentence. Now it was her turn to blush.
"You mean, you would let me..." the sentence was incomplete.
"If your really wanted to, then yes, I would."
Again there was an awkward silence. The atmosphere between them was charged, electric. Gina's throat was dry, and her heart was pounding.
"I mean, you've already paid for it, in a way. It would only be fair. And it was my fault you got strapped," she bowed her head nervously. "It would only be fair," she repeated.
Peter was staring at her, mouth wide open, hardy breathing.
"Would you? I mean, now? Here?"
Gina looked around. There was no one around. There was never anyone around in this lonely spot they had come to know as theirs.
"Yes," was all she said.
"OK then," Peter had brightened up significantly. "Could you? Right now? Take off your clothes?"
"All of them?"
"If you want."
"OK"
Gina stood up. She found her knees could hardly support her weight. This was a curious new feeling for her; one she could not properly identify, or deal with. But somehow, as she removed her clothes one by one, she felt more excited than she had ever been in her life. Her little heart was pounding. By the time she was down to just her knickers, she paused.
"These too?" she asked, pointing to her final pretense at modesty.
"Yes," Peter croaked.
She watched his eyes. He could not take them off her. His gaze was focused intently at the top of her legs. His look was so intense, she almost felt she could feel it's warmth, burning her. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, and gradually she lowered them. Peter's eyes nearly popped out of his head as she awkwardly stepped out of them, almost stumbling as they caught on her sneakers.
Finally, she stood there before him, naked as the day she was born, with the exception of her short white socks and sneakers.
"Gina." Peter croaked incoherently. He coughed, clumsily clearing his throat. "Gina, you are so beautiful." He tapped the tree he was leaning against and croaked, "Could you put one foot on there?"
Gina blushed. If she did that he would see - everything. She wanted to say no, but she was helpless to resist the momentum of this magical moment. She raised her foot and put it exactly where he had indicated. She stood above him, naked, with her legs open, letting him see the most intimate and secret parts of her body. She had given him something of herself, something precious, intimate, and deeply personal.
After a few moments she asked, "Peter, could I see yours too?" with a boldness that almost startled her. She realized, that today was the beginning of her sexual awakening, the beginning of her race to womanhood. She felt like a woman, powerful, desirable, and able to capture the intensity of a man's lust.
Without saying a word, and still sitting on the ground, Peter undid his belt, unzipped his jeans, and quickly lowered them. Now it was Gina's turn for her eyes to almost pop out of her head. She had never seen an aroused penis before. She never even knew there was such a thing! She had only ever seen little babies, little boys. This! This almost frightened her; fascinated her!
After a few awkward moments she started to feel really embarrassed. Peter zipped up his pants. She blushed, lowered her foot, and leaned down and grabbed her knickers, ready to pull them on again over her sneakers.
"No wait," said Peter.
"Why?"
"Well, we're not quite even yet."
Gina snorted and laughed at the same time. A nervous little noise. "Oh yes we are!"
"Well, there's the small matter of the spanking I got."
Gina blushed. "Yes, I know I'm sorry, and I wish there was something I could do..."
"There is," exclaimed Peter, interrupting her.
"There is? What?"
"Well, if you're truly sorry, then it would only be fair if you let me spank you," he announced triumphantly.
Gina could not see through the fatal flaw in Peter's logic. She would have done, had her mind not been a mass of confused, whirling thoughts. She had already admitted to herself that she had been excited at the thought of Peter getting strapped. The thought of him spanking her was even more exciting.
"Well, OK!" she said through her dry cracked voice. "But not hard," she added emphatically.
Before she knew it, he had perched himself on a fallen tree, she was bent over his lap, and he was slapping her bare bottom. He didn't do it hard, and he didn't even give her many spanks, maybe only ten or fifteen. But there was definitely something exciting, wonderful, and stimulating about the whole experience. When it was over, she stood up. He was blushing; she was blushing.
Peter jumped up and said, "Wait a moment, I have to - you know." He ran a few yards away and went behind a tree. Gina put her clothes back on. She supposed he needed to pee. As she thought about this a few years later, she wondered if he was doing something else.
They walked in silence until they were almost home.
"We're *still* not even," Peter said.
"What?"
"Well, strictly speaking, to be even, you should have received a spanking from Momma." Gina's heart leaped. Her chest constricted. The thought of being spanked by that wonderful, kind, yet strict woman suddenly imposed itself in her mind. It was a thought she did not want to remove.
"Would that make it even between us? I mean, if your Momma spanked me, then we'd be even?"
"Yes," he said. Gina looked nervous, apprehensive. "Oh, she doesn't hurt very much," he went on.
"Well, it sounded like she was strapping you hard. And was it on the bare? or was that my imagination?"
"Well, yes, it was on the bare, but she does not do it really hard." Gina must have looked somewhat skeptical because he continued, "Well, did you hear me cry out?" Gina shook her head. "See, she doesn't do it hard."
The thought was beginning to overpower her reason.
"How?" she began, "I mean, how could we get your Momma to, - you know - spank me? I mean, that is if I agreed."
Peter considered this for a moment. "Well, it needs to be believable; something that she would not be surprised you would do, but it needs to be enough to get you into trouble."
"What if I went out on my own, like tonight, and came back really late?"
"That would work," he said.
"OK. We're agreed then," she looked into his eyes. "And then we'll be completely even." Peter nodded. Gina couldn't help herself. She stopped and took Peter by the arm. She stood on tiptoe, leaned up, and kissed him on the cheek. Peter responded by kissing her on her lips.
It was her first kiss; the first time a boy had kissed her lips this way. Oh, it had been another innocent kiss; their mouths remained closed, but it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.
Peter was still asleep. Gina smiled. She looked at him with so much love in her heart. From that first romantic kiss, to this night, standing before her sleeping husband naked in a hotel room, she had enjoyed romance like few women ever even imagined. Gina turned and walked to the window, looking out at the spectacular view, totally naked.
She wondered if anyone could see her. She smiled. She didn't really care.
Gina was nervous and excited; she was apprehensive and impatient. The thought of being strapped by her Aunt Rita was both scary and arousing. She had waited impatiently until after 10 PM, willing the hours away, before sneaking in the kitchen door. There was a light in the kitchen. Gina, pretended like she was trying to sneak in unnoticed. She had almost reached the stairs, wondering if in fact she had been able to get past her Aunt. But no.
"Gina!" she heard her aunt call out. Well, she had been "caught". There was no turning back now. "Where have you been?"
"Out," said Gina sullenly.
"Out where?"
"Renee and I went down to town for a coffee and we sort of lost track of time."
"Well, young lady, I'm afraid there is no excuse. I am very cross. Have you any idea how worried I have been about you?" Gina hung her head in shame. She actually started to feel badly that she had caused her aunt this worry. It was mean and inconsiderate.
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to worry you."
"Well, you did. And now what am I going to do. What would your father do if he knew?"
"He would strap me," she replied nervously.
"And if I tell him, then you would have it hanging over you for the next week until your return home." Gina nodded. "Or," she paused, "we could deal with this right now. I could strap you and it will be over and done." Gina looked at Aunt Rita and nodded. There was another pause. "Well, Gina," she said with a sigh, pointing to the kitchen door, "fetch the strap."
Gina walked over, almost loosing her balance as she did as she was told. She had never had to 'fetch the strap' before. Poppa had always done that. It felt strange, carrying the instrument of her punishment to her aunt. It was heavy. It was thick. It was going to hurt. Gina began to feel apprehensive, genuinely afraid. But Peter had said it didn't hurt. She handed the strap to her aunt, who wielded it a few times, slapping her palm with it.
"Well, Gina, bend over the end of the chair please."
Gina did as she was told. This would be the first punishment she had ever received from someone other than her Momma or Poppa. She leaned forward to grasp the seat of the chair, the chair-back forcing her bottom to stick up inviting the strap. Her heart pounded in her chest, her tummy full of wild butterflies, and unbidden, there was a tickle between her legs. For a moment Gina wondered if she would loose control and pee herself. Aunt Rita lifted Gina's skirt. Would she pull down her knickers? Yes. Gina felt the cold air on her bare skin as her knickers were lowered to her knees. She felt so foolish, so helpless bending over like that, bare bottomed, waiting for her aunt to strap her. And then, there, at the kitchen door she saw a shadow. Was that Peter, peeking in on her? Watching her getting strapped. Oh, what to do? She couldn't possibly let her aunt know. Oh how unfair. She felt manipulated. She looked back, behind her. Aunt Rita stood behind her, poised like a soldier, ready to apply that cruel strap to her backside.
"AH!" she cried out uncontrollably. The shock of that first stroke had taken her completely by surprise. It had *hurt*. Peter had lied. The stroke had been much worse than any of the strappings Poppa had given her. The second stroke landed, perhaps even harder than the first. Again, Gina could not help herself from crying out. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She had upset and worried her aunt; Peter had tricked her into taking this spanking and had even lied to her about how much it hurt. And worse, much worse, he was now witness to her humiliation.
Aunt Rita continued the strapping, and it was causing poor Gina more pain than she had ever imagined possible. After her first two outcries though, she was determined not to give Peter the satisfaction of hearing her plead, beg, or even cry. Gina bit her lip, and stoically took the punishing strokes, with nothing more than a gasp. Mercifully the strapping did not last long. Gina figured she had been given no more than ten or fifteen strokes. But painful! Her bottom felt like it was on fire. She wanted to cry and sob her heart out, but she refused to allow herself that luxury, refused to give Peter the satisfaction. Instead, tears silently wound their way down her cheeks.
Aunt Rita pulled up Gina's knickers and helped her stand up. "There, there, Gina," she said lovingly, hugging her close, "it's all over now. And you were a very brave young woman. I'm proud of you."
Gina looked up into her aunts face. It was such a kind and loving face. "Everything is OK now Gina. Neither of us will remember this ever again. OK?" Gina nodded, but she would remember. She would remember how she had been betrayed by Peter. "Now, off to bed with you; no supper for you tonight young lady. And I will see you at breakfast."
Gina ran up to her room and threw herself face down on her bed. Her poor bottom was throbbing with pain still. She buried her face in her pillow, and let out the tears she had held back. Tears of pain mingled with tears of heartbreak, knowing that she had lost Peter. Now she was condemned to live in a world that did not contain Peter. She sobbed even harder.
Gradually Gina sensed a growing sensation between her legs. The glow in her bottom eased, to be replaced by exciting thoughts; wondrous thoughts of the strapping she had just received; sexy thoughts of showing herself to Peter; apprehensive thoughts of seeing him exposed and wondering what it would be like to be married to him
Someone came into the room. "Gina, you were magnificent. Gina, I love you." It was Peter. He loved her? How could this be? How could he have betrayed her like this?
"Peter, go away! I hate you. I will never speak to you again."
"Gina, why? I love you! You were magnificent," he repeated.
"You don't love me. If you loved me, why would you have lied to me? You said it wouldn't hurt."
"Well, yes, I did," he said penitently. "But if I had told you how much it hurt, you never would have gone through with it."
The silliness of his statement surprised her. She managed a stifled laugh. "You're right there! I never would have done it!"
"But Gina, I had to let you experience it. Isn't she marvelous? Didn't it excite you to be strapped like that? Didn't it 'turn you on'?"
Gina had heard that last phrase before, and perhaps now, she was beginning to understand what it meant.
"Well, not while I was getting it."
"Well, no, but after... I mean... now. What does it feel like."
"Sort of... I don't know... sort of comfortable, cozy... Oh I don't know."
"Glowing?"
Gina smiled. Did he feel the same things she did? Her bottom *was* glowing. And it was not an unpleasant feeling at all. "Yes," she said lowering her eyes.
"You'd better go before your momma discovers you here."
Peter bent down and kissed her again. It was another innocent kiss, but so romantic, so romantic.
Gina was smiling. Perhaps even there were tears in her eyes. She and Peter had been inseparable after that, spiritually inseparable. Even when she was back in Milan, and he still in Varese, they had kept in touch with each other over the phone, and countless letters. Each summer they were physically inseparable. Their friendship grew first, strongest. And while they did indulge in their spanking games and more adventurous exploration of their growing sexuality, these took back seat to the undying friendship that developed between them. A friendship that had endured, growing, day by day, for the last twenty-three years.
Gina jumped, as Peter gently cupped her breasts in his hands. She had not heard him come to her from the bed. She felt his penis press between her bottom cheeks. So sensual, so powerful, so sexy.
"Peter, you startled me," she said, leaning back and kissing his cheek.
"And just what are you up to? Standing here at the window, naked, for anyone to see?" He gestured to the outside world, but for now, for Gina, the whole world was in this room.
"Oh, I was just remembering that first summer, back in Varese."
He kissed her again. "What a glorious summer that was," he agreed.
He took her hand and led her back to the bed. Gina's heart pounded as it did every time, just before they made love. The sweet anticipation of their union filled her with glorious feelings of love, of romance, of sex and of lust for her husband. This would not be like their earlier lovemaking, frantic, intense, urgent; no, this would be slow, sensual, and passionate. She lay back on the bed, waiting breathlessly for the first caress of his hands on her body, his first kiss on her lips, and then that glorious moment, the instant when he would enter her. Gina cried, tears of joy, tears of emotion she could hardly bear, as she and her husband became one.