Читать книгу Italian Women's Erotic Sins, Volume I - Giovanna Esse - Страница 12

The afternoon was cold, though spring had already arrived.

Nicòle arrived with rosy cheeks and knees, her little nose was frozen. Her slender figure emerged superb, between the play of light of the door’s glass. Flora was dazzled, once again, by her grace. She had been missing for a week and she had realized how much she loved her already.

Master of the world, Nicòle took off her coat and white scarf. Then, she took off her cotton cap, letting her golden hair scroll down her shoulders. She flooded the house of smiles and words without importance.

"No school tomorrow, no homework today!" She established, domineering, that it was the suitable afternoon to watch "Doctor Zhivago". Flora wanted to cry, but did not, nor did she oppose the request. She had been waiting too long for her to not fulfill the wishes of her small "tyrant". She began feeling butterflies in her stomach, while her mind relished the caresses she longed. Their hands would dance with their fingers, intertwining and repelling each-other, like dancers on a stage. She could not curb her desire, nor to put a real brake to that girl.

But they had been stalled for too long: she could not continue like this. Flora decided to take the plunge and play her cards:

"Go pee then, otherwise you won’t want to get up later" she smiled. "Meanwhile, I'm going to prepare tea."

"Yes, Sir!" Teased Nicòle.

While Flora was fumbling in the kitchen, the young woman lingering in the bathroom shouted:

"I have a surprise, you want to see?"

"Oh, ohhh!" Relaunched Flora, "your surprises do not promise anything good to my fate..."

"But yes, look at me!" She came out of the bathroom, putting herself on display. She was wearing only the thick ribbed sweater. Below, instead of socks, she wore blacks and sheer tights. Flora lurched, despite the girl held her thighs clenched, it was obvious she was not wearing panties: a mop of fair and delicate hair, cleared the socks, right over her virginal groin.

"And look now," Nicòle said with her smile of youthful impertinence. She parted her feet, spreading her legs. She had ripped her tights roughly with her fingers, just between the legs, so the stockings worked as a frame for that stunning spectacle.

"It is my invention! Do you like it? " She did not wait for an answer; she knew, anyway, that it would not come. Flora’s mouth was wide open in amazement, she could not utter a single word.

"They keep me warmer, I'll be very comfortable. And without panties, I can pee easily." She looked up and stared at Flora with swagger, the doe eyes defied her without shame. Flora managed to distract her attention from the spectacle. With longstanding breath, she pretended to mumble something about youth, turning to hide the redness of her cheeks. She dedicated herself tenaciously to filtering tea. Still boiling hot, she poured it in the favorite cups. Then, without a word, she retired upstairs to the bedroom.

Nicòle had already settled on the couch, as cozy as an alcove. She had dared, but in her heart she hoped not to have gone too far.

The film had just begun. From the stairs she could spy on Flora on her way into the living room. She had changed clothes: she wore a long shirt, tight over her breasts in a kind of empress style, slightly flared at the bottom, in fact, and closed with buttons. The girl noticed that she wore no socks. "She must be hot" she thought to herself, and took pleasure in the sight.