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Last year I had the dream summer job for a horticulture student. During the summer break from university classes, I was hired to give garden tours in the Italian countryside.
My grandparents are Italian, and I speak Italian like a native. This was a big reason I got the job. My work was to give tours of villa gardens in several private estates to tourists who arrived in groups with pre-arranged accommodations and itinerary.
With my appearance and language skill, I could pretend to be Italian and disguise the fact that I was an American. Sometimes, I would do this so that the American tour groups thought they were getting a true local experience. It was fun to pretend not to do my best to speak in broken English. I would introduce myself as Luca.
The tour groups were American or British, and most of the tourists were women “of a certain age.” I guess more adventurous tourists went to livelier places. One of the guides told me that the garden tours were popular side trips for wives while their husbands remained in a city. In the middle of a two-week excursion, apparently the wives liked to get away for a few days without their hubbies.
The ladies stayed overnight in a lovely small hotel where I often dined in the evening, and sometimes I would visit with the tourists after my work day. I must say that even though I was in my early twenties and they were much older, some of them were very attractive. I began to play a little game of guessing how their tits or pussies looked and making my cock get stiff and leaky while giving the tours. I got pretty good at this game, and I sometimes noticed tourists’ glances at the floppy bulge in my trousers.
The gardens had exotic varieties of flowers such irises and lilies that have distinct layered petals that can look like the open labia of a vagina. Should I? Well, after describing he qualities of these lovely blooms for a few weeks, I began to take chances.
In my pretend broken English, I explained to a group of about five women tourists that the iris has a wonderful variety of appearances, and that some even looked like, “How do you say? Their soft petals are like the vagina. Is that the right word?” I would stumble over my words, as if trying to think of what to say, “There is even the little inside parts like in the vagina, or what do you say in English, pussy?”
I would handle a blossom and use my fingers to separate the petals, as if I were handling a tourist’s pussy, “See how much this is, how you say, anatomical?” I would flick the stigma in the center and say, “Ah, you see, even the little exciting part is here, the part that makes you feel the best.”
I was careful to move on quickly to the next parts of the garden, as if nothing unusual had happened. But the ladies in the tour groups always nodded at first when I mentioned vagina or labia, but they got a little wide-eyed if I used the word pussy. And some of them seemed to get a little excited when I compared the stigma with their clitoris. But I just kept smiling as if I had no idea that I may have offended some of the tourists.
Soon, I learned to take it up a notch by explaining, “Yes, some flowers look so much like the delightful female sex parts, and the more developed the flower the more complicated it looks, just like the difference from a young woman to an older mature woman.” If I was feeling bold, I would wink at that moment.
I loved letting these ladies enjoy a little vicarious flirting. Heck, my cock got a workout just waking in the garden and talking about pussies.
“Did you know,” I would add, “that some flowers also have the male appearance?” I would mention a few plants that had a phallic appearance, especially the phallus impudicus, a type of mushroom that looked very much like a circumcised cock. We did not have any on display, but I would describe it, “This fungo, you say mushroom, is maybe five or six inches tall with a top that looks just like the end of Ankara travesti the male that has been circonciso, or circumcised, I think you say.” I would smile and add, “I think many American men are cut this way, but not so many in Europe, not me at least.”
Depending on the mood of the group, I might or might say all this. If it seemed to be a fun group I might add, “So you see these flowers are the girls and boys of botany and are so much like us, like our own sex parts.” Then I would add, “Sometimes the flowers are larger than a lady’s vagina and sometimes smaller. The phallus mushroom is the average size a man’s penis, but I hope you ladies are luckier than that.” And wink again.
I would not say all this in every tour. Each time, I teased and was careful to be more and more explicit only if I felt a good vibe from the group. There were some men on the tours, and they seemed to enjoy my sex talk about the flowers.
It didn’t take long that summer for more fun to bloom. Sometimes it was one of the tourists and sometimes it was a couple of them. Occasionally a little group would see me in the restaurant bar after dinner, and we would talk. If there was a gleam in their eye, I might invite them to my room by asking, “Tonight is so lovely. It could only be more beautiful if you would allow me to examine the flower in your garden.”
By mid summer, I had racked up at least a dozen tourist pussies. Little did I know that a daytime garden tour listening to me talk about their pussies and the size of their husbands’ dicks compared to mine was such a perfect recipe for fucking these wives. They were wound-up and they were ready to let me unwind them. These wonderful older women were so ready and so eager to be handled and fucked by a “real” Italian. And I fucked one after another of them.
If others were a bit offended by the garden tour, I was lucky that none of them complained.
Some wives in the tour groups were friends before their trips and knew one another quite well, and on a few occasions those groups led to more exciting times in their more spacious hotel rooms. One night at the bar, I was approached by an attractive sixty-something who invited me to join her friends in their room for a late-night drink. As I watched these well-cared for wives walk ahead of me down the hall, I carefully kept by fake Italian accent that seemed to delight them so much.
“Tell me where you are from in the United States,” I asked. There were four in this group, all friends from Cincinnati. I pretended not to know where this was, and that seemed to thrill them. Once in their room, the wine began flowing and the conversation did, too. We sat around in the chairs and on the beds chatting, my eyes taking in the shapes of each and my cock yearning to fuck.
The lovely women who had invited me was named Carol, and she finally brought the conversation around, “Your tour was so wonderful. I know that I have often thought of the similarity of flowers to vaginas.”
I answered, “Yes, and there are so many varieties of them.”
Carol replied, “So many varieties of flowers?”
“Oh, forgive me,” I said, “yes, of course, but also of the vaginas of the ladies, no?”
Carol and the others laughed, so I continued. “Oh yes, I have seen many, and all are different and unique and lovely, just like the flowers. Nature is such a wonderful thing.”
Carol waved her hand, “But you said nature also had plants like a penis.”
“Certainly,” I answered. “I must confess that I described this in hopes that perhaps you and your friends would like to compare for yourself. With your permission, let me show you how nature has made me, and at the same time, if you are comfortable, please allow me to see your little flowers.”
Before any of them could respond I stood and unfastened my belt. As if they were being directed, the ladies gathered around, two in chairs and two sitting on the bedside as I Konya travesti undressed. “It is so natural for us to be curious,” I said, “and to appreciate the sizes and shapes of the body, as well as of the plants.”
In moments, I stood before them in just my briefs and an unbuttoned shirt. My flat stomach muscles weren’t quite a six-pack, but surely my form was more fit than their husbands. “Please stop me if any of you would be offended,” I said, as they all stared at the pronounced bulge in my briefs. I was the next thing to fully erect, swollen and expanded but still curved enough to be barely contained by the inflated nylon. Luckily, I had worn briefs with roomy space for display and enough to contain my balls during arousal.
“Here,” I spoke, “let me show you.” All eyes were on my midsection as I took my time lowering the briefs. I made a fuss about being careful as inch after inch of the thick shaft came into view. I stopped briefly about half way down with a good five inches of thick cock on display, then I slowly stretched the briefs down to finally uncover the entire nine inches.
I had already told them that I was uncircumcised, and there was a small pucker of foreskin hiding my glans. I stood before them and let them look. At first, my cock drooped downward, but as I watched these wives look at me, my cock started to elevate and rise. As it did, it reached a greater extension that caused the foreskin to part and allow the bulb to see fresh air.
“See how much like the flower this is?” I asked. “All the movements and size and shape are like the inside of pistil and stamen inside the flowers, the erect parts that bring reproduction, just like my penis.” At that moment, I felt cum ooze from my cock lips.
Of course, I was beyond pretending that this had anything to do with garden tours. I knew I was there to fuck as many of these vixens as I could, but I couldn’t resist making a few more comments about nature.
“Now,” I said, “who will show me her flower?”
There was hesitation and looks darted among the ladies. But soon each of them was on their feet and taking off clothes. In no time all four were in panties.
“Ah, please stop,” I cried. “This is wonderful. Would you permit me to do this last part?” I was intent on removing the panties myself from all four. All of them were rather good looking and in suitable shape for their ages.
Each stood still as I lowered their panties. One lovely pussy after another. In the standing position, it was difficult to see much of the inner workings of their pussies. All but one had healthy pussy hair that hid some, but not all, of their delights. The other apparently had waxed, and her inner workings were quite delightful to see.
Luckily, there was a king-sized bed in this room, so I invited them to each lie down next to each other, four in a row and to allow me to position their legs. The giggled as they got on top of the bed, then one by one, I separated their legs enough for an examination.
“May I touch you?” I asked.
Before anyone nodded their assent, I let my fingers separate their pussies. “How lovely,” I said each time, “I wish you could all see the petals of these flower pussies.” I was in cocksman’s heaven. My dick was super hard, and my cockhead was now fully extended. As I tickled each wife, they moaned and made small talk among themselves, “Can’t believe this. This is the best vacation ever.”
“Please let me taste each of your flowers, ladies,” I said. And then I spread the first woman’s legs wide and began to lick her inner folds. I would stop and describe her to the group, “Ah, this one is very complicated with so many things to see,” for instance. And then I moved to the next, making sure that each had been stimulated to the point of near climax. It was hard to tell if some had come already or not, but my purpose was to get each of them wet enough and lubricated enough for penetration.
“Now, İzmir travesti let’s put our lovely nature parts together,” I said as I slid my cock into Carol’s pussy. Her legs were elevated to allow me entry, but the size of my cock was a challenge. “Let’s just do a little bit,” I said, “and then come back for more.” And I moved on to the next. Pussy after pussy, I pushed my cock head in as far as I could but never more than half way.
“Let’s try this,” I said. “Turn over and get on your knees.”
Each did, four in a row on the edge of the bed, and I serviced each one in turn, pressing my cock into their pussy until it seemed wise to withdraw, then fucking them several strokes before hurrying to the next. Some were tighter than others, but all yielded given enough time and effort. After all, I believe they had all given birth, so they knew more than I did about their capacity.
“Who would like to have all of this cock?” I asked. And I laid down on the bed on my back with my cock straight up in the air. “This will be safer.”
Carol came first and straddled my mid-section as she lowered herself onto my prick. It gently kissed her pussy lips as she descended, bending at the knees to led her body weight press downward. She rocked up and down as the other women watched. In a few minutes, she had mastered my length and girth and was settled at the base of my dick. After pistoning up and down for a while, she handed my off to her friends.
One at a time, they each found their own peace with my dick, going down as far as was safe and stimulating. Two of the wives lost it and clearly had orgasms.
After everyone had been “sized,” it was time to fuck. Time passes when you’re fucking, and I don’t know how long we were there. One-by-one, over and again I moved from one sweet lady to the next, like a bee to the flowers, alternating between deep dicking them and licking them gently. No one was keeping count, but I am pretty sure that each enjoyed themselves with several climaxes as the night wore one.
This is a young man’s game. I’m not sure I could do this in my older years, but I hope I can try. I was so aroused by this that my cock stayed stiff for a long time, but I had to be careful not to cum too soon. By the time I finally did cum, I had four ladies hands on me, and all of them were eager to see my explode. I wiggled and tried to delay the inevitable end, but they laughed and held me down and jacked me and sucked me mercilessly. I had held back for so long that it took a long time for them to win the battle. My discharge came with a roar and an extended spurting session which only added lubricant for them to keep torturing me.
Long after I’d completed my cycle, they kept toying with me and asking if I could cum twice. I’d never been forced to cum twice in a row, but this was a special occasion, that’s for sure. I was so pumped that my erection did not subside, and in ten or fifteen minutes they were forcing more cum out of me.
My cock still didn’t shrink down a bit, and they kept teasing me. The wives were as lusty as I had been, and they began to change, “Three times, three times.” God, I was incapable of resisting. I was exhausted but still aroused. I had never felt this way before, and I began to worry that they had taken me to a state where I could not resist and would cum over and over even if the well was dry.
It took longer than the second time, but by god these talented hands and excited females got their wish. For a third time I pulsed and tried to escape as a few more spurts of cum made the girls cheer.
At last, I think they were tired, too.
We fell into each other arms and slept the rest of the night, awaking in a naked pile for some very gentle morning fucking. Before our coffee each wife was allowed to have her pleasure one more time. And for me, four more times.
Room service knocked at the door to deliver coffee as I was withdrawing from wife number four. “Just a minute,” one of the ladies called out as they watched me jerk myself to a climax and shoot my jism. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two of the wives taking photos of my jumbo.
I went into the bathroom as they opened the door for coffee.
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