She had decided almost immediately that she had to go to bed with him. His olive complexion, his thick crop of jet black hair and his dark black and piercing eyes had all gotten to her. In fact, it was the very second day of class that she had made her first move.
Paolo had, at the time, seemed rather shy and distant. But without even realizing it, Gail had found herself pressing her thigh against his nearest leg as they sat in class together. The young man didn't move, but when he glanced at her, she smiled and whispered an introduction. He seemed pleased and nodded his head and Gail had kept her leg in place, moving it up and down very slowly, so as not to be too obvious.
She had wondered if Paolo was turning on to her and when she looked at his crotch, she couldn't see anything but a rounded nondescript bulge. Temporarily disappointed, Gail had concentrated on what her teacher had been saying, wondering what Paolo was thinking and curious to know if he liked her or not.
But as time went on, he opened up to her, becoming much more friendly and warm than she had ever believed possible. And now, finally and as far as she was concerned, "at long last", he had suggested that they study for an English exam together.
Pleased with herself, glad that she hadn't worn undies or a bra, Gail knocked on the front door and a minute later it opened up. Paolo stood in the threshold, huge and imposing. He ushered her inside and she was pleasantly surprised when, once she was in the living room, she found he had set out wine and cheese and had even lit several candles.
It all seemed impossibly romantic, wonderfully grown-up and she sat back on the couch, put her books on the coffee table as he went to turn on the stereo.
She poured the wine and they clinked glasses. She kept hoping that he wasn't as shy as he had always seemed. Then, the boy began to explain what he understood and what he found confusing. But Gail was only aware of the sound of his voice and not what he was saying.
She kept looking at him, studying him as her eyes roamed up and down his body. He was wearing American clothes, faded blue jeans that seemed molded to his legs, as if he had showered with them on in order to get them to fit so tightly.
His blue work shirt was open at the neck and she saw his dark wiry chest hairs, little curls and ringlets which grew profusely across his wide rugged chest. At eighteen, he looked even older and Gail shifted position so that her skirt rode up a little and she hoped that Paolo could now see more of her bare legs.
"Tell me," she asked, the wine having already gone to her head. "What are Italian men really like?" She giggled nervously and ran one finger up and down his hairy muscular arm, staring into his eyes.
Paolo seemed to get flustered and looked down at his lap. Gail looked down as well, smiling to herself. Something was growing in the young man's pants, definitely getting bigger and bigger by the second. She kept running her finger along his arm, inching closer.
"Are Italian men really such good lovers?" she asked, noting the intensity of his stare as he watched her every move, as he listened to her every word.
"What do you mean?" he asked her.
"You know," and she laughed. Paolo drained his glass and poured himself another. Gail could tell that he was getting a little lewder. "They say that Italians really know how to make a woman wild."
"Yes," he agreed, laughing amicably. "That is what I hear them say. But I see how curious you are, Gail."
"Yes," she admitted, feeling giddy. Her heart began to beat wildly. "I'm very curious, if you must know the truth."
Suddenly, she just couldn't take anymore game-playing.
She leaned forward and threw her arms around Paolo's shoulders, pressing her lips to his. He put down his glass and grabbed her tightly, thrusting his mouth against hers and slipping his tongue in and out from between her lips.
Gail was overcome with excitement. She clung to him as his strong powerful arms encircled her, drawing her up against him. Then, tonguing her deliciously, his hot raspy prober curling in and out of her mouth, she began to respond in kind. She felt Paolo's hard muscular body pressing against her, gently lowering her down on the couch.
"I had my first woman when I was twelve," he told her, looking into her eyes. "Since then I have slept with many, many different woman. But only with older women from my country. Never with an American so young and beautiful as you."
All she could do was smile.
It was as if she was in a movie, only the movie was real life and real life was absolutely perfect. Gail looked at him as if he was a prince, come to ravish her and make her his personal love-goddess.
She felt silly and romantic, but she loved the feeling, nevertheless. Griping Paolo around the shoulders, they slid off the couch and onto the carpeted floor. He moved away the coffee table so that they would have enough room.
Then, holding himself above her, he looked down and thrust out his tongue, licking her lips, sucking on her chin and then her neck. Gail was, at first, quite passive. She let Paolo do whatever he wanted, loving the way he moved his mouth down to her neck and sucking on her flesh. He nibbled her skin gently and she began to get more and more excited.
Pressing his hands over the heavy mounds of her breasts, he squeezed them slightly. Gail shuddered from his touch and he rolled her nipples around between his thumb and fore-finger, sliding down off of her and stretching his legs out on the carpet. Slowly, his hands traveled down over her breasts, fondling and caressing them.
Then, he massaged her smooth rounded stomach and then crept almost cautiously to her snatch. Gail moaned hotly as she felt the tips of Paolo's fingers rubbing up against her pubic bush, still hidden beneath the cloth of her skirt. Suddenly, he wrenched her legs apart and shoved his face down between her thighs, pressing his mouth over her crotch and stuffing the cloth up inside her chink as she lay back and trembled, feeling more aroused than ever before, even more than the first time she had allowed a boy to touch her private parts.
Gail could feel Paolo's tongue dipping into her split, separated from him by the material of her skirt. She wanted him to rip it off her and rape her, to take her brutally and violently until she couldn't see straight.
Perhaps he read her mind or perhaps that was the way he was accustomed to making love, but without warning Paolo grabbed hold of the bottom of her skirt and pulled it down. Gail squirmed over on her side as Paolo wrenched off her skirt and then her blouse, leaving her on the floor, completely and absolutely naked.
"Oh yes, yes," he whispered, gazing with narrowed tiger-like eyes at her naked, vulnerable and totally defenseless body, "You are beautiful, good enough… good enough to eat." He chuckled to himself and Gail shivered, overcome with sexual desire.
Paolo looked at her and it was as if he was fucking her with his eyes, taking in every detail of her body as she spread her legs apart so that the outer lips of her pussy opened up to reveal the hot pink interior of her twat.
"I am going to give you everything you want, Gail," he said to her, his eyes fixed on her pussy, already damp and glistening with natural moisture.
"Tell me," she whispered, dry-mouthed, staring up at him with unabashed lust.
Paolo rose slowly to his feet and Gail moaned with delight, gazing at the thick long outline of his cock, encased in his skin-tight dungarees. It looked enormous and she kept hoping that it would prove to be as formidable and cumbersome as the janitor's had been. For she wanted nothing less, only a cock that was as big if not bigger.
Of course, she didn't tell Paolo what she was thinking. But she watched him without blinking an eye as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His chest was covered with a thick tangle of dark black hair, hair that fanned out, covering his skin and his small pink inverted nipples.