Page 9 of Italian Professor

With her eyes at half-mast, she leans back and gasps as I part her legs and slide my fingers inside her. Dammit. She’s already wet and ready for me. She arches her back and cries out, which only makes me want to give her more.

I toss her legs over my shoulders and bury my head between her thighs, licking the droplets of pool water from her soft flesh. She nearly knees me in the face when I part her lips and slip my tongue inside her.

“Relax, baby girl. You’re delicious,” I tell her and continue to explore the soft folds of skin inside her.

Her breath catches, and she reaches down and places her hands in mine. She squeezes our fingers together as her hips begin to grind against my face. I slap her engorged clit with my tongue and she goes absolutely feral, kicking and thrashing. I love seeing her this way, coming apart because of me.

I wrap my lips around the little button and suckle it until her body convulses and shakes. When the tremors subside, I take one final lick of her luscious lady spot then lift my head.

“Did you like coming on my face, Princess?” I smirk.

“I… I never felt anything like that in my life,” she stutters, eyes still dazed and unfocused.

“Well, there’s more where that came from, but not tonight. First, I need to take you out on a date or two.”

“Really? You know I wouldn’t say no, right?”

“I do, but you deserve better than that. A girl like you should be treated like a princess.”

She pouts and asks, “Is it because of where I live and who my mother is?”

“No, beautiful girl. It’s because of who you are. You could live in a tenement in downtown Milan with your waitress mother and you’d still be a princess.”

I climb out of the pool and help her to her feet. Her naked body is even more amazing than it was in my imagination. I take two towels off the hook beside the outdoor shower and wrap her in one of them before drying myself off with the other.

She lies on top of me on the lounge chair, and I stroke her hair as we look up at the star-peppered sky. This is it. There’s no going back now. I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross. I look for feelings of guilt or even the slightest bit of hesitation, but there’s none to be found anymore.

“So, what do I call you now?” she asks, snuggling my neck.

“At school, you call me Professor Arrabella. Outside of school, you call me Anthony.”

As midnight approaches, I kiss her goodbye and pull down the long driveway to the road below. As I prepare to make my turn, I notice a car parked on the side of the road. I inch closer, but its tail lights illuminate, and it tears out in the opposite direction. It seems odd but I’m not familiar with this area and think it may be paid security on patrol.

6

MOMMY ISSUES

ARIA

It’s been three days since Anthony came to my house, and it’s been difficult for me to keep up appearances at school. I wish I could find an excuse to go to the office that didn’t entail acting like a complete fool in class. If it wasn’t for the fact that we speak on the phone every night, I might just run through the hallways screaming for his attention.

The weekend has finally arrived and tonight is the night that we go on our first date. I spend way too much time putting on outfits and thinking I’m ready only to return to my closet and start over from scratch. As an eighteen-year-old, I have a closet filled with trendy casual clothes, and I don’t want to look like I’m out to dinner with my dad. After much deliberation, I bite the bullet and throw open the doors to my mother’s dressing room.

The center of the room contains a settee and a wall of mirrors, but the sidewalls are covered in floor-to-ceiling clothes racks organized by color family and season.

I put on a light beige pants suit with a low cut, blue blouse and matching heels. Checking myself in the mirrors, I decide to put my hair up and borrow some jewelry from my mother’s collection as well. Finally feeling secure with my outfit decision, I rush down the stairs with only a few minutes to spare. As I head toward the door to check for his car, my mother calls out, causing me to skid to a stop on the marble floor, my face frozen in horror.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Aria. I know I’ve been gone for a while but it’s still my house,” she holds her arms out to me and I accept her embrace. “Look at you pilfering my wardrobe. That looks good on you. Keep it.”

“Thanks, I just wanted to look a little less like a teenager.”

“Well you succeeded there,” she takes me by my arms and looks me up and down. “Where are you off to?”

“Dinner. My ride should be here any minute.”

“A date? Finally. I didn’t think you’d ever find a boy that met your high standards. Don’t get me wrong, it’s okay to be picky. You are gorgeous just like your mother,” she giggles and I pick up the faint scent of liquor on her breath. Great. Just perfect.

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