Page 13 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

She stares at us with that warm caramel gaze. Her bottom lip trembles temptingly, and her loose brown curls tumble over her shoulders.

“Yes, I think I’d like to try,” she breathes. “How do we start?”

Domenico and I share a look. This is perfect. The First Daughter has turned out to be absolutely gorgeous, and we’re looking forward to sampling her curves.

“Well, sweetheart,” growls my friend in a low voice. “We’d love to see how you carry yourself. Without the clothing, of course.”

She gasps and her cheeks grow pink, but I know this is nothing for an experienced daughter. She bows her head.

“Of course,” Melissa replies before throwing us a cheeky glance. “I’d love to show you my assets.”

With that, she carefully puts her purse down on the floor and then takes a deep breath before fluffing out her hair. Slowly, she reaches down to unbutton her v-neck sweater, and Domenico and I stare, entranced, as more and more creamy flesh is exposed. Soon, Melissa slips the sweater off her shoulders, and we gasp. Her mounds are enormous, and they’re spilling out of an innocent white bra.

“You like?” she giggles, seeing our ravenous looks. She cups her hand below the two marshmallows and jiggles them lightly. My rod jerks and I let out a low growl.

“We love it,” Domenico rasps. “Now your skirt, cara.”

Smiling wickedly, Melissa nods and spins around. She’s wearing a tan leather mini-skirt that hugs her hips as well as high heels. It’s not great for walking in a construction site, but then again, with legs as long and shapely as hers, who wouldn’t want to emphasize those gams?

With a coy look over her shoulder, Melissa begins unzipping the zipper in back. The leather splits apart, and slowly, she wiggles her skirt off her hips until the fabric pools on the floor. Then she delicately steps out and spreads her legs in a vee before bending down. She’s got a matching white pair of lacy panties on, as well as sheer, thigh-high stockings that hug her shapely calves.

“Look,” she says coyly while bending over. “Do you like what you see?”

At this point, both Domenico and I have our staffs out, and we’re fisting those hard rods, unable to help ourselves. She’s too beautiful, and we need to get into that pinkness. But Melissa has the upper hand because as she bends over, her bottom rises like a giant heart, and reveals her juicy pink folds within. Oh shit! The girl is wearing crotchless panties and sure enough, her sweetness peeks out at us, welcoming our touch.

I can’t help myself. In an instant, I’m behind the sweet girl. I stroke through her wetness with my fingers, stopping to niggle her hard bud.

“Oooh,” Melissa moans as her eyes fall closed. She leans over even more, pressing slightly against my fingers.

But Domenico wants a taste too. He too, stands behind her, and takes the tip of his rod and lightly rubs it up and down her folds. Melissa is sensitive, and sure enough, she has “dog.” Dog is when a woman pulls you into herself of her own accord. Her hungry kitty begins to vacuum and as we watch, his tip disappears into her tiny hole. He lets out a guttural moan, and his hips draw back to begin the penetration.

But we have a goal to achieve.

“Stop,” I grind out. “We need to use the wall.”

“Of course,” he rasps hoarsely before pulling out his tip. It’s already shiny and coated, both from her secretions and his need. “Let’s test the holes.”

With that, we walk to the other side of the wall and stare at the cut-out.

“Sweetheart,” calls Domenico roughly. “Come and place your bottom in the hole so that we can begin the experiment.”

She lets out a mewl of disappointment, and there’s some shuffling on the other side. But then we hear heels clacking on the floor, and sure enough, her big bottom shows itself in the opening.

“Like this?” she asks, pressing slightly. Her heart shape is huge, but it’s not all the way through yet.

“More,” I command. “Press yourself all the way in so that there’s no give between you and the wood.”

“Oooh, this could be difficult,” she murmurs from the other side. “I’m a big girl,” she adds by way of explanation. But big girls do it best, and this cut-out was designed especially for women who have extra poundage.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, trying to disguise the hunger in my voice. “Keep pushing yourself through until you’re solidly jammed in there. It’s the only way because sweetheart, you’re going to need to focus your energy on feeling. We don’t want you to worry about keeping your balance when everything should be focused on where we touch you.”

I hear some grunting on the other side of the wall as Melissa edges herself in further. Sure enough, the big heart gets pushed through until finally, that ripeness is stuck in tight.

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