DudeThrill.com
It had been particular months, a ups and downs of emotions, difficulties, inner discoveries and ... us. Months of us.
After a long time and many vicissitudes we had found ourselves in a curious crossroads that fate had wanted to re-propose, perhaps once and for all. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her, more woman, deep, a little disillusioned with life but, in her own way, eager to achieve what she had never had: serenity, awareness, a man who loved her, an accomplice, totalizing funny, bold, as she promised to be. As she had always been. A happiness to be achieved by remaining herself, without coming to terms but leaving the place next to her free where, coincidentally, I was just finding myself, willingly accepting to be dragged into the whirlwind of spontaneity and sincerity that Diana, without ever pretending it in words, however, gave the idea of demanding.
It was becoming more important to me every day, it was impossible not to accept that tacit agreement, so distant from the habits of a whole life, acquired in past stories with some calibrated attitude refined on the script of my existence that, at a certain point, getting lost in the spell of my Diana, I had chosen to tear.
So, on an early summer day, here we are sitting at a table in a restaurant on the Lazio coast, smiling at us and lucky enough to have found a place despite the crowd that in those early days of the sun warmed skin and heart.
The fresh white wine gushed in our throats and between our smiles transpired what between me and her has never been missing, even in the moments of greatest distance: the desire to own the other.
The rest was taken care of by the wine, which after a couple of courses had done its duty: Diana, pretending to play with her sandals, under the reduced table touched my leg intensifying the power of her gaze, penetrating into my eyes, causing me to usual, nth, day erection.
This was how the verbal, reciprocal, more and more urgent and truthful provocations began, until, almost simultaneously, an idea peeped up to that moment remained in the limbo of our fantasy, manifested, as often happens, during some moments of lively intimacy: "Let's go to the spa".
Obviously we didn't mean "classic" spas, but of the naturist ones, locus amoenus that many of you, visitors to the site, know well.
As it happens, we were absolutely newbies in this regard, so you will imagine the excitement and adrenaline of the moment, a sensation that inaugurated our "path" from the parking lot of the beach where, from inside our car, I thought well to start stripping Diana, leaving her in the air, fingering her well to warm her even more than she already was.
The shameless gaze of some boys not far from us did nothing but intrigue us even more convincing us to set in motion and leave for our new destination.
The journey was a journey of laughter and madness: accomplices as never (or perhaps as always), Diana kept her bare breasts with the window lowered all the time, attracting the surprised and wolfed gaze of the passers-by men, and the shocked and a little envious of the female "colleagues".
Her breasts are clearly visible from the published photos, but I assure you that live they seem designed by a particularly inspired artist, not to mention the nipples that, like hard cherries, give my woman an eroticism, a cheeky, cheeky, unparalleled air.
The music of the radio, then, accompanied our journey towards transgression almost as if it were a trip out of town, while our hands, never domed, added malice to malice, giving even more impatience to our desire to achieve what we had in mind.
The Olympo naturist spas, Casal Palocco area, were our first place of perdition, if we can call it that.
Once in the parking lot, without being knocked down by an anonymous external square, we entered the structure along a short corridor with soft red lights, reaching the reception where a girl of foreign origins was immediately ready to welcome us and describe the spa regulations.
I was incredibly comfortable, albeit excited. I was doing something unusual and transgressive with my woman, who during the receptionist's explanation I saw out of the corner of my eye noting a surprising ease. Diana is like this: if she wants something, she gets it; if you want to test yourself, there is no fear for you; if she's excited, well, hope to be around because I risk not being enough.
We therefore entered each one in our dressing room, separating just for the time to then find ourselves outside in the corridor with our bodies wrapped in the bathrobe provided by the structure.
The Olympo Spas are not very es
tense: they have a fairly large swimming pool with "mouths" for the hydromassage and a smaller tub, also hydromassage, on which there are rather cozy beds. In another space of the structure there are, instead, some open rooms with the most comfortable beds in the center, obviously dedicated to the "mountains", even if the environment seemed immediately a little cramped and claustrophobic.
This is why, stripping us for the first time before strangers in all our nakedness, hand in hand we entered the water enjoying the warmth and bubbles that enveloped skin and bad thoughts.
I didn't know what my partner had in mind, I don't think she knew either. Maybe I thought we would have been there to snoop around here and there, spy on other couples and sort out the equipment of some singles (even if she is always repeating that it's not what women look at, at least initially).
Our languages, however, immediately creeped voluptuously into each other's mouth, while in the water the hands flowed more freely and expertly every minute that passed.
I would never have imagined that shortly thereafter we, the first time in a naturist spa, would actually inaugurate the dances that in a short time left here and there in the two tanks, in a sort of Tinto Brass set, full of eroticism and malice.
Diana soon decided to take my cock. She loves him madly, and in some cases prefers long rides to foreplay. He was no different in that circumstance, climbing on top and resting his arms around his neck, swaying with his pelvis in order to allow full penetration inside his cunt, ready for hours to receive his favorite toy.
I could see the eyes of those present pointed on her back, enchanted by her sinuous movement like snakes with their fakir, while she, Diana, alternated passionate kisses with convinced smiles, as if there was no one around, at the same time as if we were at the center of the world.
He enjoyed, the slut, and I enjoyed widening her pussy more and more, while moans and sounds of pleasure filled the large room now as an echo of his enjoyment.
After endless moments, we only broke away from the approach of a couple and a couple of singles who aroused us from our sensual dance. We smiled amused and moved to different angles to have different views: from the hopeful gaze of the singles to the sex consumed by other couples, now so bold to make some daring exchange. There was no shortage of provocative outpourings among women: "Saranno habitué" I thought, noting their nonchalance in knowing gestures.
I didn't know that shortly thereafter, Diana herself would become a skilled representative of those same gestures.
We were, in fact, crowded into a corner of the larger pool. Diana had just finished sucking me a few centimeters from a boy in ecstasy, when a couple of hers, crossed shortly before in the smallest tank, broke the delays approaching.
If during the first meeting we had exchanged two words with her and her man, immediately defining Diana's intention to avoid contact with him (a huge boy with an equally large tool, highlighted by a metal ring at the base of nerch and testicles), on the second attempt the sexting girl immediately showed that she did not care about that constraint placed by my beautiful queen, opting to take both the situation and Diana herself in hand.
For the first time, I saw my she get carried away in a lesbian kiss that seemed like she never wanted to stop. The sexting woman, cute in face and with a fanciful body, gave the idea of being able to do a lot, denoting an unusual experience for her age. At the corner, just like a boxer, I had Diana's back resting on my chest, while the effusions between her and her new friend soon led me to raise them from behind the pelvis, effectively offering it like a silver tray towards the sexting woman's mouth.
Diana seemed ecstatic: in the arms of her man, she was finally transgressing before foreign eyes, with the tongue of a sexting woman who stimulated her bowels, making her vagina an appetizing morsel while he, frustrated by the impossibility of enjoying it too he of my woman, led the wiry cock playing with the small breast of his partner.
I don't know how many minutes passed, but I know they ended in a complicit smile of the two women, in a silent but tangible general approval, and of the couples and the singles.
Diana, even more beautiful in her shivers of pleasure on her return to reality, seemed incredulous at what had just happened, while the sexting woman revealed that she was actually a frequent visitor to that place and that she was only 23 years old.
We still spent a few tens of minutes in the spa premises, taking advantage of the small bar for a break from that harem
to articulate and to confront each other, accomplices, on what has just happened.
The desire to return to being us, special in our normality, gradually made itself felt again: we repaired, therefore, in the locker rooms to then get out of that new dimension full of intrigue and find ourselves in that rightly anonymous and not very explicit parking that we had understood be strategic not to attract the well-meaning.
I shouldn't reveal it because it belongs to a more intimate and less playful sphere, perhaps, but that evening was one of the most beautiful ever lived with Diana.
After a delicious dinner consumed in a restaurant near the house, we found ourselves between our sheets to huddle closer and more accomplices than ever, in a sort of promise, renewed, to be the only one for the other despite having, for the first time, crossed the limit of the classic and traditional relationship.
That night was sex and love, it was completeness, it was smiles and passion, it was freedom and jealousy.
Curious, amused, excited, seeing her like this was an orgasm in orgasm for me, and it was then that I decided (and she with me, I suppose), to live our relationship without ever precluding us anything, in search of the pleasure of the other, dancing from time to time between the hidden thoughts of his mind and the chills on his skin.
It was probably then that I decided I could no longer do without Diana in my life.
After a long time and many vicissitudes we had found ourselves in a curious crossroads that fate had wanted to re-propose, perhaps once and for all. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her, more woman, deep, a little disillusioned with life but, in her own way, eager to achieve what she had never had: serenity, awareness, a man who loved her, an accomplice, totalizing funny, bold, as she promised to be. As she had always been. A happiness to be achieved by remaining herself, without coming to terms but leaving the place next to her free where, coincidentally, I was just finding myself, willingly accepting to be dragged into the whirlwind of spontaneity and sincerity that Diana, without ever pretending it in words, however, gave the idea of demanding.
It was becoming more important to me every day, it was impossible not to accept that tacit agreement, so distant from the habits of a whole life, acquired in past stories with some calibrated attitude refined on the script of my existence that, at a certain point, getting lost in the spell of my Diana, I had chosen to tear.
So, on an early summer day, here we are sitting at a table in a restaurant on the Lazio coast, smiling at us and lucky enough to have found a place despite the crowd that in those early days of the sun warmed skin and heart.
The fresh white wine gushed in our throats and between our smiles transpired what between me and her has never been missing, even in the moments of greatest distance: the desire to own the other.
The rest was taken care of by the wine, which after a couple of courses had done its duty: Diana, pretending to play with her sandals, under the reduced table touched my leg intensifying the power of her gaze, penetrating into my eyes, causing me to usual, nth, day erection.
This was how the verbal, reciprocal, more and more urgent and truthful provocations began, until, almost simultaneously, an idea peeped up to that moment remained in the limbo of our fantasy, manifested, as often happens, during some moments of lively intimacy: "Let's go to the spa".
Obviously we didn't mean "classic" spas, but of the naturist ones, locus amoenus that many of you, visitors to the site, know well.
As it happens, we were absolutely newbies in this regard, so you will imagine the excitement and adrenaline of the moment, a sensation that inaugurated our "path" from the parking lot of the beach where, from inside our car, I thought well to start stripping Diana, leaving her in the air, fingering her well to warm her even more than she already was.
The shameless gaze of some boys not far from us did nothing but intrigue us even more convincing us to set in motion and leave for our new destination.
The journey was a journey of laughter and madness: accomplices as never (or perhaps as always), Diana kept her bare breasts with the window lowered all the time, attracting the surprised and wolfed gaze of the passers-by men, and the shocked and a little envious of the female "colleagues".
Her breasts are clearly visible from the published photos, but I assure you that live they seem designed by a particularly inspired artist, not to mention the nipples that, like hard cherries, give my woman an eroticism, a cheeky, cheeky, unparalleled air.
The music of the radio, then, accompanied our journey towards transgression almost as if it were a trip out of town, while our hands, never domed, added malice to malice, giving even more impatience to our desire to achieve what we had in mind.
The Olympo naturist spas, Casal Palocco area, were our first place of perdition, if we can call it that.
Once in the parking lot, without being knocked down by an anonymous external square, we entered the structure along a short corridor with soft red lights, reaching the reception where a girl of foreign origins was immediately ready to welcome us and describe the spa regulations.
I was incredibly comfortable, albeit excited. I was doing something unusual and transgressive with my woman, who during the receptionist's explanation I saw out of the corner of my eye noting a surprising ease. Diana is like this: if she wants something, she gets it; if you want to test yourself, there is no fear for you; if she's excited, well, hope to be around because I risk not being enough.
We therefore entered each one in our dressing room, separating just for the time to then find ourselves outside in the corridor with our bodies wrapped in the bathrobe provided by the structure.
The Olympo Spas are not very es
tense: they have a fairly large swimming pool with "mouths" for the hydromassage and a smaller tub, also hydromassage, on which there are rather cozy beds. In another space of the structure there are, instead, some open rooms with the most comfortable beds in the center, obviously dedicated to the "mountains", even if the environment seemed immediately a little cramped and claustrophobic.
This is why, stripping us for the first time before strangers in all our nakedness, hand in hand we entered the water enjoying the warmth and bubbles that enveloped skin and bad thoughts.
I didn't know what my partner had in mind, I don't think she knew either. Maybe I thought we would have been there to snoop around here and there, spy on other couples and sort out the equipment of some singles (even if she is always repeating that it's not what women look at, at least initially).
Our languages, however, immediately creeped voluptuously into each other's mouth, while in the water the hands flowed more freely and expertly every minute that passed.
I would never have imagined that shortly thereafter we, the first time in a naturist spa, would actually inaugurate the dances that in a short time left here and there in the two tanks, in a sort of Tinto Brass set, full of eroticism and malice.
Diana soon decided to take my cock. She loves him madly, and in some cases prefers long rides to foreplay. He was no different in that circumstance, climbing on top and resting his arms around his neck, swaying with his pelvis in order to allow full penetration inside his cunt, ready for hours to receive his favorite toy.
I could see the eyes of those present pointed on her back, enchanted by her sinuous movement like snakes with their fakir, while she, Diana, alternated passionate kisses with convinced smiles, as if there was no one around, at the same time as if we were at the center of the world.
He enjoyed, the slut, and I enjoyed widening her pussy more and more, while moans and sounds of pleasure filled the large room now as an echo of his enjoyment.
After endless moments, we only broke away from the approach of a couple and a couple of singles who aroused us from our sensual dance. We smiled amused and moved to different angles to have different views: from the hopeful gaze of the singles to the sex consumed by other couples, now so bold to make some daring exchange. There was no shortage of provocative outpourings among women: "Saranno habitué" I thought, noting their nonchalance in knowing gestures.
I didn't know that shortly thereafter, Diana herself would become a skilled representative of those same gestures.
We were, in fact, crowded into a corner of the larger pool. Diana had just finished sucking me a few centimeters from a boy in ecstasy, when a couple of hers, crossed shortly before in the smallest tank, broke the delays approaching.
If during the first meeting we had exchanged two words with her and her man, immediately defining Diana's intention to avoid contact with him (a huge boy with an equally large tool, highlighted by a metal ring at the base of nerch and testicles), on the second attempt the sexting girl immediately showed that she did not care about that constraint placed by my beautiful queen, opting to take both the situation and Diana herself in hand.
For the first time, I saw my she get carried away in a lesbian kiss that seemed like she never wanted to stop. The sexting woman, cute in face and with a fanciful body, gave the idea of being able to do a lot, denoting an unusual experience for her age. At the corner, just like a boxer, I had Diana's back resting on my chest, while the effusions between her and her new friend soon led me to raise them from behind the pelvis, effectively offering it like a silver tray towards the sexting woman's mouth.
Diana seemed ecstatic: in the arms of her man, she was finally transgressing before foreign eyes, with the tongue of a sexting woman who stimulated her bowels, making her vagina an appetizing morsel while he, frustrated by the impossibility of enjoying it too he of my woman, led the wiry cock playing with the small breast of his partner.
I don't know how many minutes passed, but I know they ended in a complicit smile of the two women, in a silent but tangible general approval, and of the couples and the singles.
Diana, even more beautiful in her shivers of pleasure on her return to reality, seemed incredulous at what had just happened, while the sexting woman revealed that she was actually a frequent visitor to that place and that she was only 23 years old.
We still spent a few tens of minutes in the spa premises, taking advantage of the small bar for a break from that harem
to articulate and to confront each other, accomplices, on what has just happened.
The desire to return to being us, special in our normality, gradually made itself felt again: we repaired, therefore, in the locker rooms to then get out of that new dimension full of intrigue and find ourselves in that rightly anonymous and not very explicit parking that we had understood be strategic not to attract the well-meaning.
I shouldn't reveal it because it belongs to a more intimate and less playful sphere, perhaps, but that evening was one of the most beautiful ever lived with Diana.
After a delicious dinner consumed in a restaurant near the house, we found ourselves between our sheets to huddle closer and more accomplices than ever, in a sort of promise, renewed, to be the only one for the other despite having, for the first time, crossed the limit of the classic and traditional relationship.
That night was sex and love, it was completeness, it was smiles and passion, it was freedom and jealousy.
Curious, amused, excited, seeing her like this was an orgasm in orgasm for me, and it was then that I decided (and she with me, I suppose), to live our relationship without ever precluding us anything, in search of the pleasure of the other, dancing from time to time between the hidden thoughts of his mind and the chills on his skin.
It was probably then that I decided I could no longer do without Diana in my life.
