Many people wrinkle their puritanical noses at the earthy smell of Venetian canals: Don't count me among them. I gaze into the dark water each night and breath it in so deeply it becomes part of me, the excretions of all life at once overloading my senses. I'm attracted to it like I am to hot, sweaty lovemaking in exotic places, the kind of sopping wet love that is frantic as the pulsating throb of big machinery, where I can hear his balls slap lewdly against me, where my dripping cunt engulfs him and lubricates him with streams of hot, viscous moisture so he can thrust even faster and harder, slamming into the stiff knob of my clit until his wetness joins mine, exploding inside of me jets of hot, scented oil whose odors will later inspire me to lap his cock to life once again, encouraging it to plunge into my wet cunt, fucking me--yes the only appropriate phrase is fucking me--once more before the sun rises over the canals.

I hang over the balcony railing on these evenings, letting the warm breeze whip the thin wrap across my freshly scrubbed body. I scan the turgid water for gondolas; soon it will be time for them to bring the lovers, circling in endless laps around the decaying buildings of my district before the time comes that Italian's set aside for lovemaking.

Suddenly a gondola with the perfect couple rounds the bend slowly. She is dark skinned, exotic. Her long brown hair hangs loosely over the back of the chair she's sprawled across haphazardly like child's forgotten rag doll. Her skirt is bunched around her spread thighs, nut brown from weeks in the Mediterranean sun, and one of her arms has found its way around the skinny neck of a timid boy. Two wine bottles (at least!) clack together in the bottom of the gondola.

The boy inches his fingers toward the drunken girl's cunt. I lean over to get a better view; the gondola bobs slowly in the water, drifting from side to side of the canal--the gondolier is too preoccupied with watching the little drama to propel the boat forward. When the boy's fingers bump against the puffy mound of her sex he tilts his head back in ecstatic thanks. This is when he sees me--his brown eyes suddenly round with fear. Immediately I push back a flimsy knot of silky material to expose a pendulous breast and its chewy nipple caressed by the sea breeze. "Don't stop," I mouth to him.

The gondolier follows the boy's gaze and when he sees me he waves. With a flurry of distinctly Italian hand signals he seems to command the boy, who quickly slides off his seat to face the girl's open thighs. Then, sliding his hands inside her skirt, he yanks at her panties. The jostling brings her slowly to life; her blue eyes flutter open and settle on me as if she is quite impervious to the boy's fumblings. Then, her eyes riveted to my breast, she reaches down to help the boy, her motions enticingly slow as she finally plucks the panties from her ankles and holds them aloft. The boy circles her wrist gently, bringing the panties gallantly to his nose.

His erection tents his pants. I feel a thick wetness wash my cunt and can't help taking a deep breath of the air all thick with life, then drawing a finger slowly across the slit of my sex, feeling the silky material caught in it plow wetly through the soft furrow. "They're going to fuck," I announce into the dark room behind me.

The boy gets up, wobbling side to side, struggling to maintain his balance while the girl tugs at his pants. She gives a yank and his erection pops loose and jiggles. She catches it in her wet lips and lunges forward, burying her nose in his pubic hair for just a second before slowly backing away from the stiff rod. I imagine the wet pop as it leaves her hungry little mouth.

I feel a hot wetness around my ankles, then a furry caress slowly up my calf: Mario and his beard, behind me. I shift my weight to the railing so I can spread my legs apart for him. I wait an eternity while his tongue navigates my thighs toward the swampy intersection where my clit awaits his lappings.

"Look, he's putting on the condom. They're going to fuck for sure. Are you up for it, Mario?" Mario answers by shoving his tongue into my cunt. I lean far over the little railing so when he throws the bottom of the wrap over my back it will stay.

The girl slides off her chair until she's on her back in the bottom of the gondola, legs opening shamelessly until her ankles rest on the gunwales. Her sex faces the gondolier and he's not missing any of the show, stroking his cock through his ridiculously tight pants. He'll be disappointed when the boy gets into position, I'm sure.

Mario's thick cock probes my cunt. I push backward and the soft head wedges its way into me. I push back again, but Mario follows my movements so his cock is barely in. He's a bastard sometimes.

The gondola sways as the boy moves to balance himself before dropping to his knees between the girl's spread thighs. His pants are still around his ankles as he stretches himself over her body and thrusts. His buttocks clench. He's inside and Mario is too, his cock mimicking the boy's sudden, frantic pistoning.

I can't help it--I grab the railing and push back as hard as I can, meeting every thrust. Mario's hairy balls graze my clit and I want more pressure there but can't spare a hand, I'm pumping the railing harder and harder so that I'm losing myself in the exertion. It's simply fucking, spiritual and pure.

The boy in the gondola stiffens, then slumps against the girl's soft body. He rolls off her and suddenly her radiant beauty is open to my eyes. She's exquisite. I tell Mario to slow--luckily he hasn't mimicked the boy's urgent spasming--in order to watch without distraction the girl's hand slowly descend to the little triangle of whispy hair, where a slender finger extends to brush lightly over her clit. I feel her need building as if it is mine. We are one as her hand gently vibrates over her wet slit. I feel a finger probing for my own clit, then synchronizing itself with the girls thrashings. Bless you, Mario.

Across the canal a light flickers on, allowing me to better see the girl's beautiful face clenched in concentration, eyes clamped shut, her hand a blur against the soft padding of her cunt. Mario is having a hard time keeping up with her, his cock driving into me with increasing frequency and his fingers strumming my clit hard and fast. I can't stand it any more. "Faster! Piu veloce!" I stammer. Perspiration stings my eyes. I whip my head around to loosen the strings of hair from my forehead and notice myself panting. Mario, too, grunts from the exertion and soon we are like angry curs, growling and thrashing wildly to a beat set by the unknown figure below.

Suddenly the girl stiffens and at the same time the hot spurt of Mario's come lashes against the walls of my cunt. I clamp my thighs and feel the waves of orgasm pass over me, encouraged by a pulsating bite like an electrical shock radiating from my clit. My cunt clamps and holds Mario's cock for a while, then I release it to feel the liquid remnants of our sex flow down my thighs.

I lean, exhausted, against the railing, head down, sweat dripping off my cheeks making small ripples in the water below. When I rise up to shake the remaining dribbles of sweat off my chin, I notice the lighted room across the canal. A dark woman of about thirty waits on the balcony. When she sees me she calls, "Signora, guarda!"

The curtain behind her wavers. Out steps a completely naked man with an enormous cock. The woman looks at me as if for my permission, then takes hold of the cock and draws it across her cheeks like one would a kitten in order to feel the softness of its fur. "Ti piace?" she calls out, the words echoing off the ancient bricks.

Yes, I like it very much. She tries to take it into her mouth, but only the fierce, red head of it will fit, her cheeks puffing out like a snake trying swallow a mouse. But I cannot write more today. I fear I'll rub myself raw if I pen the rest of the story now. I'll write it later.

Venice II - Anna's Story
Venice III - Vincenzo's Story

Italian Story Index

(c) 1998 by James Martin. All rights reserved.