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Dozens of times I joined those two to ignite and season their relationships, but in reality for them I was just a diversion, an entertainment, a sexual toy for which they showed no respect. In short, when we were together I was everything but myself. One evening in the car I received the umpteenth proof of this feeling. We were in the area of Monte Ortobene after visiting the festival, it was getting dark and Luigi wanted to fuck. He looked at Annamaria, who was sitting on his right, and beckoned him with his eyes indicating the bulge in his pants, she smiled in sign of approval, at this point he took a deserted country road and then pulled over near a tree. She got out of the "Regatta", opened the right rear door, where I was sitting... she unbuckled her belt, opened the zipper and pulled down her underpants and panties. He gave two bites and without saying or asking anything, he grabbed me by the head and took me into his mouth. I did not resist, thinking we would just have fun like the other times, rather I let myself be guided by his hand that pushed the head towards his pelvis moving my tongue around his head to lubricate it and prepare it well for the next penetration of his girlfriend. While he was panting with pleasure I was already imagining a sixty-nine on the back seats, always with my cousin who thought to give pleasure to me while he fucked her, but after the sensual mouthpiece, dripping with saliva he went directly on Annamaria who in the meantime had removed his pants. I had also slipped my hand into the briefs to begin to warm up. There I waited a couple of minutes, then five and still nothing, the two were fucking leaning against the front hood, hugged tight, blissfully ignoring me ... at some point I began and feel uncomfortable because the position did not seem to leave room for intruders. I knew how and when it was my turn, this time I didn't receive any signals and I just stood there waiting. I recomposed myself. This time I tolerated. But I was beginning to ask myself two questions... infinity of accounts is not that before then I had been given all that consideration, but the fact of being at least sought after and participating made me appreciate the involvement. Involvement that included not only licking my cousin's pussy, but also handjobs and deep blowjobs to her boyfriend, groping of all kinds, in exchange for two fingers in the pussy and never a thank you.
Speaking of handjobs and blowjobs, he had taken the bad habit that when Annamaria had her period, he used me as a replacement to let off steam, without offering me anything in return, he would jerk off for two or three minutes, then he would throw it in my mouth, without ifs and buts and to finish if he was in a bad mood he would squirt everything down my throat without asking for permission. Not that I minded, otherwise I would not have accepted a similar treatment, but at least a sign of gratitude, I would not mind.
The breaking point came with a horrible sentence from my cousin that made me see her as a despicable person.
As I said, I had been attracted to Sahib for months, a boy of Egyptian origin who attended the class next to mine and in his free time also worked in the greenhouses, a very special boy. I had a crush on him, but because of my low self-esteem I hesitated to let him know I was into him. I thought it was impossible for him to like me, I felt ugly. One afternoon when I was lounging under my cousin's house with two other acquaintances listening, I made a comment about how much I admired that boy and how much I would have liked to confess my feelings for him. Annamaria gave half a giggle and looked at me with an air of superiority and said: "You? You're not even good as a whore." Those nasty words rumbled in my ears like a cannonball, and I quickly realized that she could easily leak the secret of what only she, her boyfriend and I were doing. I froze, not knowing whether to cry or hit her. During that long silence of bewilderment my father arrived with the car that had passed by on the fly to pick me up, I turned my back to all three and holding back my tears I left without saying goodbye. My father immediately understood my expression, but I played it down by saying that I wasn't well.
I spent a week crying. That bitch obviously didn't even try to give me an apology call, so I premeditated revenge by realizing that I had to do something.
Not without fear, I first turned to a family friend, an expert beautician, asking her advice to turn me around with treatments that were sometimes rare and expensive for the times. I booked a wax depilation in the city for over 100,000 lire, body and face. My father accompanied me, sighing and saying over and over that his little girl was growing up, he certainly didn't look at me with male eyes, but only as a parent. Needless to say, I cried during the whole treatment, but the anger for how I had been treated made me go on without delay, up to the groin, to the last hair between my ass cheeks. Then the face: eyebrows, moustache, unwanted hairs and even a complete treatment of scrub, cleansing and mask. As if that wasn't enough, when I got out of there I left another 70,000 lire with the hairdresser, a lot of money at the end of the 80s, I wanted to change completely... completely.
I waited three days for any trace of inflammation from my first wax to pass and I tried to get a better tan on the porch, finally to become really unrecognizable I also called an expert makeup artist. In short, I used up all my savings. Now to the attack...
I knew well where in the late afternoon Luigi went to play pool with friends and I also knew usually at what time. I walked into that bar looking like a star, wearing clothes that I had never even dared try on as a joke and I ordered a drink sitting at a table, pretending to read a copy of the Unione Sarda left there for the customers. Almost an hour passed without any trace of him, and then I left. The next day, however, which was Friday, I returned and managed to catch him. He was at the gaming table near the bathrooms discussing with two other guys, they had just finished a game ... I had an idea ... I approached them and, trying to speak as little as possible, handling a cue, I said I was curious and asked "naively" if they could teach me how to play. I avoided Luigi's gaze as much as possible in order not to allow him to catch the salient features of my face. Only, by "carelessly" approaching him, I made him lean over me to teach me how to play... in my diabolical silence we started a game, he and I, against the other two. Moving in a sloppy and clumsy way I was always looking for an excuse to hit my ass on his pants flap. After the second or third time I could already feel that he had become very hard. From behind he only had eyes for my hair, ... before dark, curly, high and ruffled that came above the shoulders ... now swayed wavy, in large curls, against my back shining a deep coppery red, served to confuse his ideas, enhancing the harmony of my curves. A soft pink t-shirt, with lace inserts, came up to my navel, while above it let the other two players enjoy a great show, throwing balls at random to look in the middle of my big and pleasurable bowls squeezed by an expensive and valuable brand bra, which I let myself widen by lowering myself over the green velvet, making a mischievous smile with my full lips, which only needed that dark red lipstick carefully applied as the makeup artist had taught me, to make them damn lustful, without the mustache of course. ... After a good hour of mindless splinting by cock amidst goliardic laughter and cackling, which the three men were bursting in their pants, I decided to begin the first part of my plan. I turned to the "prey", moving my hair like a diva, whispering softly in a sensual way, (to disguise my voice as much as possible and avoid that he recognized it) that I needed a refreshment in the bathroom. I waddled to the door and as I entered, I turned to him who was obviously watching me and I beckoned him with my fingers to come to me. As soon as he entered I grabbed him by the belt, he let me drag him softly, excited for what was about to happen. I pulled him into a toilet cubicle with me and I stuck my tongue in his mouth, looking for his, moving my hands, now well groomed and dyed a bright dark red as my lips, inside his shirt. I squeezed his package, then slid my other hand inside his underwear, he was so excited he was already getting wet. He did the same. Before he could take over I lifted one leg over the still lowered palette, lifted the denim skirt and moved the lace thong, matching the bra. Grabbing him by the hair "slut" I pushed him down with my right hand, slamming my beautiful pussy totally shaved with wax (not without hallucinating pain) in his face and holding his head with both hands, as he did with me, I urged him to lick it all and well, already enjoying just to have submitted. I was excited and scared at the same time and what I was doing made me soaked like a slut, I could hardly resist to be properly fucked, so I finished the first part of the plan pretending to have forgotten a very important appointment. While he got up all upset that the thing was ending so quickly, I grabbed his hand and pulling out the lipstick from the pocket of my denim skirt wrote on his arm a fictitious name and a time, nineteen o'clock the next day. We were to meet there again. I ran away. Continue...
Speaking of handjobs and blowjobs, he had taken the bad habit that when Annamaria had her period, he used me as a replacement to let off steam, without offering me anything in return, he would jerk off for two or three minutes, then he would throw it in my mouth, without ifs and buts and to finish if he was in a bad mood he would squirt everything down my throat without asking for permission. Not that I minded, otherwise I would not have accepted a similar treatment, but at least a sign of gratitude, I would not mind.
The breaking point came with a horrible sentence from my cousin that made me see her as a despicable person.
As I said, I had been attracted to Sahib for months, a boy of Egyptian origin who attended the class next to mine and in his free time also worked in the greenhouses, a very special boy. I had a crush on him, but because of my low self-esteem I hesitated to let him know I was into him. I thought it was impossible for him to like me, I felt ugly. One afternoon when I was lounging under my cousin's house with two other acquaintances listening, I made a comment about how much I admired that boy and how much I would have liked to confess my feelings for him. Annamaria gave half a giggle and looked at me with an air of superiority and said: "You? You're not even good as a whore." Those nasty words rumbled in my ears like a cannonball, and I quickly realized that she could easily leak the secret of what only she, her boyfriend and I were doing. I froze, not knowing whether to cry or hit her. During that long silence of bewilderment my father arrived with the car that had passed by on the fly to pick me up, I turned my back to all three and holding back my tears I left without saying goodbye. My father immediately understood my expression, but I played it down by saying that I wasn't well.
I spent a week crying. That bitch obviously didn't even try to give me an apology call, so I premeditated revenge by realizing that I had to do something.
Not without fear, I first turned to a family friend, an expert beautician, asking her advice to turn me around with treatments that were sometimes rare and expensive for the times. I booked a wax depilation in the city for over 100,000 lire, body and face. My father accompanied me, sighing and saying over and over that his little girl was growing up, he certainly didn't look at me with male eyes, but only as a parent. Needless to say, I cried during the whole treatment, but the anger for how I had been treated made me go on without delay, up to the groin, to the last hair between my ass cheeks. Then the face: eyebrows, moustache, unwanted hairs and even a complete treatment of scrub, cleansing and mask. As if that wasn't enough, when I got out of there I left another 70,000 lire with the hairdresser, a lot of money at the end of the 80s, I wanted to change completely... completely.
I waited three days for any trace of inflammation from my first wax to pass and I tried to get a better tan on the porch, finally to become really unrecognizable I also called an expert makeup artist. In short, I used up all my savings. Now to the attack...
I knew well where in the late afternoon Luigi went to play pool with friends and I also knew usually at what time. I walked into that bar looking like a star, wearing clothes that I had never even dared try on as a joke and I ordered a drink sitting at a table, pretending to read a copy of the Unione Sarda left there for the customers. Almost an hour passed without any trace of him, and then I left. The next day, however, which was Friday, I returned and managed to catch him. He was at the gaming table near the bathrooms discussing with two other guys, they had just finished a game ... I had an idea ... I approached them and, trying to speak as little as possible, handling a cue, I said I was curious and asked "naively" if they could teach me how to play. I avoided Luigi's gaze as much as possible in order not to allow him to catch the salient features of my face. Only, by "carelessly" approaching him, I made him lean over me to teach me how to play... in my diabolical silence we started a game, he and I, against the other two. Moving in a sloppy and clumsy way I was always looking for an excuse to hit my ass on his pants flap. After the second or third time I could already feel that he had become very hard. From behind he only had eyes for my hair, ... before dark, curly, high and ruffled that came above the shoulders ... now swayed wavy, in large curls, against my back shining a deep coppery red, served to confuse his ideas, enhancing the harmony of my curves. A soft pink t-shirt, with lace inserts, came up to my navel, while above it let the other two players enjoy a great show, throwing balls at random to look in the middle of my big and pleasurable bowls squeezed by an expensive and valuable brand bra, which I let myself widen by lowering myself over the green velvet, making a mischievous smile with my full lips, which only needed that dark red lipstick carefully applied as the makeup artist had taught me, to make them damn lustful, without the mustache of course. ... After a good hour of mindless splinting by cock amidst goliardic laughter and cackling, which the three men were bursting in their pants, I decided to begin the first part of my plan. I turned to the "prey", moving my hair like a diva, whispering softly in a sensual way, (to disguise my voice as much as possible and avoid that he recognized it) that I needed a refreshment in the bathroom. I waddled to the door and as I entered, I turned to him who was obviously watching me and I beckoned him with my fingers to come to me. As soon as he entered I grabbed him by the belt, he let me drag him softly, excited for what was about to happen. I pulled him into a toilet cubicle with me and I stuck my tongue in his mouth, looking for his, moving my hands, now well groomed and dyed a bright dark red as my lips, inside his shirt. I squeezed his package, then slid my other hand inside his underwear, he was so excited he was already getting wet. He did the same. Before he could take over I lifted one leg over the still lowered palette, lifted the denim skirt and moved the lace thong, matching the bra. Grabbing him by the hair "slut" I pushed him down with my right hand, slamming my beautiful pussy totally shaved with wax (not without hallucinating pain) in his face and holding his head with both hands, as he did with me, I urged him to lick it all and well, already enjoying just to have submitted. I was excited and scared at the same time and what I was doing made me soaked like a slut, I could hardly resist to be properly fucked, so I finished the first part of the plan pretending to have forgotten a very important appointment. While he got up all upset that the thing was ending so quickly, I grabbed his hand and pulling out the lipstick from the pocket of my denim skirt wrote on his arm a fictitious name and a time, nineteen o'clock the next day. We were to meet there again. I ran away. Continue...
