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With my husband Alberto we share a passion for classic cars, possibly convertibles.
We have an Alfa Romeo Giulietta spider, 1959, and a 1960 Porsche 356 convertible.
During the winter we pamper them in the warmth of the large garage under our house, where we keep them indoors,
but then, with the arrival of the summer, after changing the oil, the filters, checking the braking system,
and polished the bodies, we use them on weekends for our trips.
My favorite is the Porsche, whose driving is my own, while Alberto more rude and bloodthirsty
he loves the jaunty disposition of the Juliet.
In the still not too hot afternoons of the spring months, we enjoy the wind in our hair and the landscapes,
that paint the almost obligatory targets that we choose from time to time.
The Ligurian east with destination Portofino and Camogli, Lake Garda with its splendid western Lake Garda and the scenic arrival in Riva, the Blue Coast, the Tuscan Chianti, Val D'orcia and the Crete Senesi.
Then with the arrival of the great summer heat we avoid the long day trips, and we prefer small evening tours, to enjoy the fresh night air.
One thing that I consider sinful, and that I sometimes do, is to take the Porsche alone, wearing a very light white linen dress, buttoned on the front.
In the darkness of the night I open the buttoning and staying practically naked I drive, with the air caressing my body. When I pass the other cars I like to think that some motorist can see me, chase, stop, and fuck upside down on the hood of the car.
Thinking about these things makes me excited and I start to touch myself while driving, to the point of having sometimes very intense orgasms, so much so that a couple of times I even risked to end up off the road, or to make a head-on collision with another car coming in the opposite direction.
Once again this year we decided to witness the passage of the historical re-enactment of the thousand miles.
For an enthusiast this is an opportunity to see some of the most beautiful cars that have made history.
Ferrari, Maserati, Bugatti, Mercedes, Aston Martin, all the most glorious brands, in a fantastic and fascinating context.
As usual we choose that part of the route that was originally part of the stage that crossed Monte Amiata, along the Cassia up north, a stage that was often decisive for the final result.
By now we have our place, near Radicofani, where from a slightly elevated position you can see a series of curves before the cars pass under us. Both to take pictures and to shoot small films, the place is really exceptional.
When we arrived after having parked the Giulietta, in an open space under the pinewood, we already found some enthusiasts who had taken the place. All men, as usual, except for another couple, made up of a distinguished gentleman in his sixties, and a girl, much younger, who at first glance might have looked like her daughter or granddaughter, but who by some attitudes and motives seemed to be quite different.
After a few minutes, as always, the men had already begun to exchange their knowledge of the means, both the possessed ones and the strong pieces that would pass by in a few hours.
The girl and I, after a few glances and a half smile, approached each other and started talking.
She was wearing a long, light flower skirt with a white embroidered shirt. And a thin necklace that made sets with earrings and a bracelet, which my expert eyes immediately saw being finished with small diamonds.
She looked a bit naive, with light eyes and white skin, like someone who doesn't like the sun too much.
We started talking about women's things, she didn't know how to drive, she didn't even have a license, and she told me that she was in botany, and that the guy was an old teacher of hers, with whom she sometimes took these strange trips. She put me at ease, so I started telling her a little bit about my life, and I couldn't resist, I told her about my secret vice, the night trips with the decapitated car.
She stood there for a few moments in silence, and then caressing me lightly on my forearm she said:
"I've got some great weed they gave me, do you want to go for a joint?"
I must confess that in high school I spent a couple of years engaged to a boy, a great smoker, and for long months I smoked quite a bit.
But then, once we broke up, I never felt the need to do it again, and for many years I never had the chance again.
But the curiosity to try again, the intriguing situation with this stranger was irresistible, and with a big smile I said yes.
With the excuse of taking a walk we eclipsed each other, promising to return when the first cars arrived.
We passed by her "friend"'s car a beautiful Aurelia B24 spider whose trunk Martina (so she told me her name) pulled out a soft merino wool blanket and we ventured under the pine forest.
In a point where the vegetation was a bit thicker we saw a small clearing, covered with dry leaves, protected from prying eyes.
When we spread the blanket we sat down, and she pulled out her purse to pack the joint. Maps a plastic bag full of grass and another one with small cardboard filters ready.
With very few rapid moves she rolled it safely, and handed it to me to turn it on.
I must admit I'm not a smoker, and very rarely do I smoke a cigarette, only occasionally afterwards...
some extraordinary sexual performance with my husband.
I lit up and said a couple of mouthfuls. The grass was really very good and after a few moments I immediately felt a flush of dizziness and heat, and I lay on my back, passing the cane.
She took a few shots, and then she gave it to me again. I managed to make two more shots and then I gave it back to her, telling her she could finish it.
The grass had already climbed up powerfully and powerfully, my mouth began to dry and salivation became difficult. As she finished the cane Martina looked at me and smiled maliciously. Then when it was finished she put it out carefully, destroying the remaining piece of cardboard.
I told her that I hadn't heard a hit that hard since high school.
She laughed and told me it was time for me to take a beating.
And she came and stood next to me.
I had spread my legs and held my arms up. My blouse must have been a bit unbuttoned and I could see a bit of my right nipple sticking out a little bit.
Now the heat that had initially taken hold of my face and my mouth was coming down my body, while my heart was pounding like crazy. Martina had come even closer and while lying on her side, with one arm and hand holding her head, she began to caress me slowly with the other.
The touch of her fingers made me tremble, and pulse my vagina. Now I really wanted her, but as if there was a mysterious force, I stood still in my position, waiting for her to do anything.
She began to slowly unbutton my blouse, and when it was all open, she moved the edges, starting to caress my breasts. Now she had got down on her knees, and with her tongue she began to lick my nipples, at first gently, and then with more determination to suck them greedily, and to bite the now turgid and hard tip like a glass pearl.
I began to wiggle and move my pelvis back and forth. I wanted to touch myself between my thighs, or that she would, but my arms were like stuck, and she kept kissing my nipples.
I began to look at her and saw that without stopping doing what she was engaged in, she started to take off her shirt, exposing two fantastic pointy little tits, with the swollen nipples thrown upwards.
The salivation that had been reset to zero was now turning into heat, and I could feel my breath gradually becoming more and more fatiguing, like that of a marathon runner after the thirtieth kilometer.
In a moment of pause, after a long and desperate sigh, I was able to say to her, "please touch me because I feel like going crazy.
Then she looked at me with that innocent looking look of hers, took off her long flowery skirt and knelt down between my legs.
Very slowly she untied the knot of the little rope that held my white linen pants tied and slipped them off, throwing them through the dry leaves. Then she pulled off the thong and without taking it off she started kissing me.
First slowly, and with his tongue to penetrate me and move my lips and lick my moods, which had to come out copiously. Then he finally started to dedicate himself to the clitoris. She would bite it to try to pull it out of its seat, and then she would suck it greedily, while I felt it swell and start to pulsate.
After a few moments, my insides shook a gasp and I began to enjoy it as almost never before.
Martina then with the middle and index finger of her hand began to rub my clitoris dizzily and I began to squeak. Big flashes of transparent liquid, which wet her face and tits.
I saw her trying to collect a few drops with her hands, and with her tongue I could taste them.
The orgasm had the effect of unlocking my immobility, and as if a mysterious force had suddenly possessed me, I sat down with a click. Martina, as if she was prepared for it, put herself in my position as before, and I rushed towards her.
Now some kind of euphoria had taken hold of me and I wanted to eat her alive.
I found myself after a quick pass on those pointy little boobs, with my mouth stuck to her vagina.
Which, to my surprise, was not shaved. The presence of that slightly curly hair, smelling of a woman's mood, made me even more curious, and I began to lick and bite as never before, looking with my tongue for any ravine and ravine I could find.
Martina had taken my hair with her hands, behind the back of my neck, and pushed my mouth against her vagina,
driving and using what my face gave her the most pleasure.
Until I realized she was using my nose to stimulate her clitoris.
Always holding me by the head she was sinking more and more my mouth and nose inside her, moving my pelvis, and my head in a synchronic and swinging way.
I could hear her panting more and more, and when I thought I was suffocating, she let me go and came to a strange orgasm, in which she was struggling like someone who is having an epileptic seizure.
I watched her as she calmed down and then I lay down next to her.
In the middle of the branches we could see a portion of the sky, and we realized that the sun must have set very low on the horizon.
It was time to come back. Once I was standing while I was looking for my clothes, she wrapped her waist around me from behind, and as she moved her hair away from me she glued her mouth to mine and the taste of her came inside me. His saliva was sweet, as was his tongue, which I could feel swirling in my mouth.
When we returned along the road it was almost dark.
The first cars had already passed and you could see the trails of the headlights starting to light up the road down the valley, up the curves and hairpin bends.
As we passed, the engines left a smell of burnt oil, and smelled of overheated brakes.
Alberto saw me and then also noticed Martina, who was holding a hand on my shoulder with a friendly gesture making a long-time friends' complicity appear.
Looking at me with curiosity and an inquisitive look, she said:
"you missed the passage of the Ferraris and the Gold Wing."
I shrugged my shoulders as if to say "patience will be for the next time" and said:
"This is my new friend Martina, I think we'll be hanging out with the Porsche a lot this summer."
We have an Alfa Romeo Giulietta spider, 1959, and a 1960 Porsche 356 convertible.
During the winter we pamper them in the warmth of the large garage under our house, where we keep them indoors,
but then, with the arrival of the summer, after changing the oil, the filters, checking the braking system,
and polished the bodies, we use them on weekends for our trips.
My favorite is the Porsche, whose driving is my own, while Alberto more rude and bloodthirsty
he loves the jaunty disposition of the Juliet.
In the still not too hot afternoons of the spring months, we enjoy the wind in our hair and the landscapes,
that paint the almost obligatory targets that we choose from time to time.
The Ligurian east with destination Portofino and Camogli, Lake Garda with its splendid western Lake Garda and the scenic arrival in Riva, the Blue Coast, the Tuscan Chianti, Val D'orcia and the Crete Senesi.
Then with the arrival of the great summer heat we avoid the long day trips, and we prefer small evening tours, to enjoy the fresh night air.
One thing that I consider sinful, and that I sometimes do, is to take the Porsche alone, wearing a very light white linen dress, buttoned on the front.
In the darkness of the night I open the buttoning and staying practically naked I drive, with the air caressing my body. When I pass the other cars I like to think that some motorist can see me, chase, stop, and fuck upside down on the hood of the car.
Thinking about these things makes me excited and I start to touch myself while driving, to the point of having sometimes very intense orgasms, so much so that a couple of times I even risked to end up off the road, or to make a head-on collision with another car coming in the opposite direction.
Once again this year we decided to witness the passage of the historical re-enactment of the thousand miles.
For an enthusiast this is an opportunity to see some of the most beautiful cars that have made history.
Ferrari, Maserati, Bugatti, Mercedes, Aston Martin, all the most glorious brands, in a fantastic and fascinating context.
As usual we choose that part of the route that was originally part of the stage that crossed Monte Amiata, along the Cassia up north, a stage that was often decisive for the final result.
By now we have our place, near Radicofani, where from a slightly elevated position you can see a series of curves before the cars pass under us. Both to take pictures and to shoot small films, the place is really exceptional.
When we arrived after having parked the Giulietta, in an open space under the pinewood, we already found some enthusiasts who had taken the place. All men, as usual, except for another couple, made up of a distinguished gentleman in his sixties, and a girl, much younger, who at first glance might have looked like her daughter or granddaughter, but who by some attitudes and motives seemed to be quite different.
After a few minutes, as always, the men had already begun to exchange their knowledge of the means, both the possessed ones and the strong pieces that would pass by in a few hours.
The girl and I, after a few glances and a half smile, approached each other and started talking.
She was wearing a long, light flower skirt with a white embroidered shirt. And a thin necklace that made sets with earrings and a bracelet, which my expert eyes immediately saw being finished with small diamonds.
She looked a bit naive, with light eyes and white skin, like someone who doesn't like the sun too much.
We started talking about women's things, she didn't know how to drive, she didn't even have a license, and she told me that she was in botany, and that the guy was an old teacher of hers, with whom she sometimes took these strange trips. She put me at ease, so I started telling her a little bit about my life, and I couldn't resist, I told her about my secret vice, the night trips with the decapitated car.
She stood there for a few moments in silence, and then caressing me lightly on my forearm she said:
"I've got some great weed they gave me, do you want to go for a joint?"
I must confess that in high school I spent a couple of years engaged to a boy, a great smoker, and for long months I smoked quite a bit.
But then, once we broke up, I never felt the need to do it again, and for many years I never had the chance again.
But the curiosity to try again, the intriguing situation with this stranger was irresistible, and with a big smile I said yes.
With the excuse of taking a walk we eclipsed each other, promising to return when the first cars arrived.
We passed by her "friend"'s car a beautiful Aurelia B24 spider whose trunk Martina (so she told me her name) pulled out a soft merino wool blanket and we ventured under the pine forest.
In a point where the vegetation was a bit thicker we saw a small clearing, covered with dry leaves, protected from prying eyes.
When we spread the blanket we sat down, and she pulled out her purse to pack the joint. Maps a plastic bag full of grass and another one with small cardboard filters ready.
With very few rapid moves she rolled it safely, and handed it to me to turn it on.
I must admit I'm not a smoker, and very rarely do I smoke a cigarette, only occasionally afterwards...
some extraordinary sexual performance with my husband.
I lit up and said a couple of mouthfuls. The grass was really very good and after a few moments I immediately felt a flush of dizziness and heat, and I lay on my back, passing the cane.
She took a few shots, and then she gave it to me again. I managed to make two more shots and then I gave it back to her, telling her she could finish it.
The grass had already climbed up powerfully and powerfully, my mouth began to dry and salivation became difficult. As she finished the cane Martina looked at me and smiled maliciously. Then when it was finished she put it out carefully, destroying the remaining piece of cardboard.
I told her that I hadn't heard a hit that hard since high school.
She laughed and told me it was time for me to take a beating.
And she came and stood next to me.
I had spread my legs and held my arms up. My blouse must have been a bit unbuttoned and I could see a bit of my right nipple sticking out a little bit.
Now the heat that had initially taken hold of my face and my mouth was coming down my body, while my heart was pounding like crazy. Martina had come even closer and while lying on her side, with one arm and hand holding her head, she began to caress me slowly with the other.
The touch of her fingers made me tremble, and pulse my vagina. Now I really wanted her, but as if there was a mysterious force, I stood still in my position, waiting for her to do anything.
She began to slowly unbutton my blouse, and when it was all open, she moved the edges, starting to caress my breasts. Now she had got down on her knees, and with her tongue she began to lick my nipples, at first gently, and then with more determination to suck them greedily, and to bite the now turgid and hard tip like a glass pearl.
I began to wiggle and move my pelvis back and forth. I wanted to touch myself between my thighs, or that she would, but my arms were like stuck, and she kept kissing my nipples.
I began to look at her and saw that without stopping doing what she was engaged in, she started to take off her shirt, exposing two fantastic pointy little tits, with the swollen nipples thrown upwards.
The salivation that had been reset to zero was now turning into heat, and I could feel my breath gradually becoming more and more fatiguing, like that of a marathon runner after the thirtieth kilometer.
In a moment of pause, after a long and desperate sigh, I was able to say to her, "please touch me because I feel like going crazy.
Then she looked at me with that innocent looking look of hers, took off her long flowery skirt and knelt down between my legs.
Very slowly she untied the knot of the little rope that held my white linen pants tied and slipped them off, throwing them through the dry leaves. Then she pulled off the thong and without taking it off she started kissing me.
First slowly, and with his tongue to penetrate me and move my lips and lick my moods, which had to come out copiously. Then he finally started to dedicate himself to the clitoris. She would bite it to try to pull it out of its seat, and then she would suck it greedily, while I felt it swell and start to pulsate.
After a few moments, my insides shook a gasp and I began to enjoy it as almost never before.
Martina then with the middle and index finger of her hand began to rub my clitoris dizzily and I began to squeak. Big flashes of transparent liquid, which wet her face and tits.
I saw her trying to collect a few drops with her hands, and with her tongue I could taste them.
The orgasm had the effect of unlocking my immobility, and as if a mysterious force had suddenly possessed me, I sat down with a click. Martina, as if she was prepared for it, put herself in my position as before, and I rushed towards her.
Now some kind of euphoria had taken hold of me and I wanted to eat her alive.
I found myself after a quick pass on those pointy little boobs, with my mouth stuck to her vagina.
Which, to my surprise, was not shaved. The presence of that slightly curly hair, smelling of a woman's mood, made me even more curious, and I began to lick and bite as never before, looking with my tongue for any ravine and ravine I could find.
Martina had taken my hair with her hands, behind the back of my neck, and pushed my mouth against her vagina,
driving and using what my face gave her the most pleasure.
Until I realized she was using my nose to stimulate her clitoris.
Always holding me by the head she was sinking more and more my mouth and nose inside her, moving my pelvis, and my head in a synchronic and swinging way.
I could hear her panting more and more, and when I thought I was suffocating, she let me go and came to a strange orgasm, in which she was struggling like someone who is having an epileptic seizure.
I watched her as she calmed down and then I lay down next to her.
In the middle of the branches we could see a portion of the sky, and we realized that the sun must have set very low on the horizon.
It was time to come back. Once I was standing while I was looking for my clothes, she wrapped her waist around me from behind, and as she moved her hair away from me she glued her mouth to mine and the taste of her came inside me. His saliva was sweet, as was his tongue, which I could feel swirling in my mouth.
When we returned along the road it was almost dark.
The first cars had already passed and you could see the trails of the headlights starting to light up the road down the valley, up the curves and hairpin bends.
As we passed, the engines left a smell of burnt oil, and smelled of overheated brakes.
Alberto saw me and then also noticed Martina, who was holding a hand on my shoulder with a friendly gesture making a long-time friends' complicity appear.
Looking at me with curiosity and an inquisitive look, she said:
"you missed the passage of the Ferraris and the Gold Wing."
I shrugged my shoulders as if to say "patience will be for the next time" and said:
"This is my new friend Martina, I think we'll be hanging out with the Porsche a lot this summer."
