When in Rome… do the Romans? [F]

Since moving to England I’ve tried to go somewhere different every time there’s a break. Flights to Europe are cheap and I normally don’t have much going on if I stay home anyway. One summer I decided to spend a week in Rome.

Initially I did all the standard sight seeing. The coliseum, the Vatican, etc. But it was ridiculously hot out and most places were also ridiculously expensive. I was with a friend but we’d been getting on each other’s nerves since leaving Manchester, so when she suggested we do our own things for a couple days I happily agreed.

I installed Tinder despite knowing I’d probably mostly find tourists – it’s not very big in Italy and there were only Americans on holiday when I looked in Venice. To my surprise it was a bit more active in Rome, and the guys it showed me were actually Italian.

I matched with this gorgeous man we’ll call M. He was a few years older than me, tall and well built. He had gorgeous brown eyes and the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen. Every picture of him just screamed ‘fuck me’. M was Italian but new to the city. He had some fancy job that I couldn’t quite understand from his translation, but whatever it was meant that he was free the next few days.

We met up at a metro stop near a shopping centre and went to a nearby bar to grab some drinks.

He was friends with the bartender and she spent a few minutes telling me what a catch he is and that he wouldn’t bring just anyone to this bar, he was obviously showing me off… it turned out the place was owned by one of his best friends and this was the friend’s girlfriend. After a couple drinks and some free shots she insisted on, he suggested we go for a walk.

We wandered over to the Fontana di Trevi which was surprisingly lacking in tourists. Spotting the opportunity to take a picture, I ran over and made him get a picture. When I asked for my phone back he pretended not to speak English and made me beg in my terrible Italian, until he told me he’d make me a deal… a phone for a kiss.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I got closer to him and he pulled me into him. He was a great kisser, his tongue knew exactly where to go. The smell of his cologne, the friction created by his stubble, the taste of his mouth were all perfect. I could feel electricity coursing through my body.

He pulled away before I’d had enough, handed me my phone, and simply asked “should we go back to my flat?”

He led me through a few winding streets back to the metro and we kissed for the duration of the trip.

Back at his building we had the longest wait for a lift in Italy’s history to date, but when it finally arrived he wasted no time in dragging me into it behind him and pushing me against one of the walls.

He pushed up my dress and began to roughly finger me as we went up. His hands were rough and calloused but felt amazing against my sensitive clit. I could have cum right there, but he stopped short and we got out, having arrived at his floor.

The trip from the lift to his bed is a blur – one second he was unlocking the door and it seemed like the next he was on top of me on his bed, tearing open the buttons on my dress.

He took my hand and guided me to the floor. Once I was on my knees he stood in front of me and I instinctively released his hard cock from the confines of his trousers. He wasn’t very big, but that didn’t stop me from taking all of it in my mouth until he was touching my throat.

As soon as I did that he was ecstatic. He lost any ability to speak English but whatever he was saying sounded extremely complimentary. He held my head and fucked my face, gently pulling my hair. “Bravissima.” I got that one.

He helped my back to my feet and laid on the bed, motioning for me to join him. I got on top of him and rode his cock. I was soaked, and he used my own wetness to play with my clit while I bounced on him. I came hard and he grabbed my hips before I could pull away, making the sensation from my orgasm almost painful. I don’t always squirt, but the overwhelming buildup of the day combined with his fingers made me powerless. He grinned and told me I should have warned him, but didn’t stop.

He lifted me off of him and rolled me onto the bed under him. He asked me something in Italian and I didn’t understand, but not wanting to ruin the mood I just nodded and smiled.

Before I knew what was happening he was in my ass.

I’d never done anal before, and it hurt initially, but I was already lubricated from my orgasm, and he was gentle. The pain subsided and it began to feel really good. His cock was the perfect size to fill me up without much discomfort, and I could feel every movement so intensely.

With one hand he moved my leg over his shoulder so that he could go deeper, then put two fingers in my wet pussy and used his thumb to play with my clit.

It wasn’t long before I came again, and soon after he pulled out and came on my face. I loved the feeling of his hot cum on my sweaty, exhausted body.

M left and came back with a face towel and a couple glasses of wine. He asked if I’d ever done that before and I admitted I hadn’t. He said he hadn’t either and had never expected me to agree to it. I admitted I’d had no idea what he was saying and he began to apologise, but I just kissed him and told him it was great.

We sat and talked for a little while about music and travel, but it was getting late and my friend rang to ask where I was.

Before I went I gave him another blowjob and he asked if I was free the next day.

I admitted I was leaving Rome in the evening, so I probably wouldn’t have time to see him, and he insisted he’d skip work for a chance to see me.

We met up briefly the following morning and had more amazing sex, but it didn’t quite have the same effect as the first day.

I still talk to him a couple times a year and he’s a mandatory stop if I’m ever back in Rome.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ac0qaz/when_in_rome_do_the_romans_f