james_holiday
07-16-2010, 12:49 PM
The first time I visited Italy I expected to be enchanted and bewitched by the sights, sounds and fragrances of a place that is foreign and exotic to my own modest sensibilties. Everything I had read insisted that I see the countryside.
In the later summer of that year I decided to give it a shot, have a look.
It is not often that a boy will wake up to find himself still in a dream.
The house was cozy. It was very secluded. In the rich Italian countryside, near the sea. I woke up to the sound of the waves drifting in and out, and the noise of people inhabiting downstairs.
I was in a girls bed, my clothes were still on, my white t-shirt and jeans crinkled and tight on my body. I woke up from what felt like a heavy night, perhaps I'd been asleep for a day or two. My muscles were aching, my eyes squinty and I would have to spend the next couple of hours as a zombie before I could fully function.
I laid up in the bed, so I could start to wake up and a small adolescent girl popped her head around the corner. She told me her name was Lilly and asked whether or not I was okay.
The only thing I could say back was, "Where the hell am I?"
Apparently, they had found me outside their house passed out from exhaustion or sunstroke. It would explain my incredible tan. And why I felt incredibly sick.
The whole scenerio instantly reminded me of that scene in "Back to the Future" when Marty Mcfly is knocked down by a car to wake up in his mothers bed. Though I dont remember a scene where Marty Mcfly is throwing up so voraciously into their toilet. My father always told me to throw up in the toilet, as you more likely to block the sink. This was one of the few times I listened ot his advice.
When I looked around I was surrounded by the family who were sizing up this stranger. But with open welcoming arms.
Well I have to admit when I first looked around, they all looked so endearing and sweet. The father or patriarch with his arm round the mother hen, time had not been kind to them, but they still had youthful eyes. Now, the two teenaged daughters, they were quite a sight, one of them was brunette, with a fine sensual face and shy guarded chocolate eyes, the other was blonde, with a sunny yet simulataneously icey face and green or blue eyes. They both resembled each other greatly, but it was as if they were both dipped in different colours, shades and textures. They both had a smashing pair of tits. The two teenage girls ran downstairs to conclude upon what they had seen. I dont think I looked my best. My skin was red, stretched tight and capillaries broken. My hair looked nice though. I've always taken off my shirt to throw up not to proudly show off my chiselled torso but so I dont get sick on my shirt. I'd thrown up worse before. This was no biggie.
When I finished up, the mother and father got me a class of water and explained what the littlest sister told me, but in a more detailed and adult manner.
I think I liked the attention and aduration I got from being the main spectacle of the day, I was that guy.
They suggested I go back to the bedroom for another lye down just a little bit longer as they prepare dinner. I thankfully obliged, as desperately need to sit down and rest for a little bit.
I was very tempted to conjure up the energy to start touching myself. When a guy is all alone in bed, not quite tired enough to sleep, what else is there to do?
I thought about the two sisters and their incredible mammaries. I thought about what they must look like naked, their nipples and their bushes. I could only imagine they don't trim. All this thinking woke me up a bit. Oh, I am a sick man and I am going to hell. These people let me into their house and I'm already playing with my ****, I desperately wanted to unclog the drain, unplug the bottle. I am definetly a tit man.
I realised I must have been on one of their beds, perhaps the sisters shared a room, their were two beds in the room, so hopefully I did not kick anyone out of bed.
When I felt ready and good enough I mustered up the courage to go down stairs and face everyone. I'd noticed I didnt say much. In fact, I hadnt spoken more than four or five words to anyone in days.
I found the father and explained my situation to him, that I was vacationing Italy, finding myself and all that crap. The father was English so I got on well with him, or atleast he could see eye to eye on my laddish manner. I was very cautious and reserved to speak to anyone else unless spoken to. Only the father spoke to me. At this point anyways. I complimented the mother on her house and she said 'Thankyou', apart from that she kept to herself. As mothers do.
Dinner felt a little awkward at first. I was quite ready to eat anything, but naturally I wasn't very use to a family atmosphere. I hadn't seen a family sit down for a dinner in years. It was very alien. But it was very nice.
Everything about the dinner was extraordinary. The onion gravy was sumptuoous, roast potatoes were buttery and honey-coated, crispy and both dry and soggy. The puddings were brown and crispy, with bits of onion in them, and the vegatables they were surprisingly juicy. I hadn't had vegetables in a while.
None surprisingly, I kept my eye on the plate, though every so often it would drift towards one of the girls.
The littlest sister must have been around 13, around that age anyways, so I casually threw playful childish faces her way to lighten the mood and break the ice with one of the girls. Show that I dont take myself too seriously and that I'm capable of being expressive in a quite kind of way. She chuckled, found it funny.
The oldest sister, the blonde, said "You have a very odd face,"
"Thanks." I replied.
I think I have a lovely face, hungry and lean like a dark, brooding Byronic hero. Though, then again, she was probably referring to all those faces I just made.
The sisters talked among themselves, sizing me up again. And the littlest one was quiet and quite shy, she was probably enamoured by me. The parents were talking and dissecting their day. I don't think I quite had the limelight anymore. Thats fine though, I love to listen. Suddenly I realised they all speak good English. Though, all the girls were of Italian heritage. Perhaps, they're on holiday too.
I asked politely to go to the bathroom, and I tucked the chair in and left. I just needed a couple of minutes to stare at myself in the mirror, figure things out. This was just the most unusual and oddest thing. I loved every second of it though. I just needed some time to comprehend it all, backtrack and reflect.
I turned round and the two sisters were there. I noticed the brunette had bigger boobs than the eldest, perhaps a double d. I noticed the blonde had greyish blue eyes. I don't think they caught me looking.
The blonde asked me, "What's your name?", I replied 'Tom Crown.'
I think she thought it was just one word, because from that moment onwards she just called me by the name, "Tomcrown'.
I shook her hand, which was warm and lovely, and in this moment I realised a few hours ago my hand was clenching my magic wand.
She said her name was Cristina Ramos. Her sisters name was Sophia Ramos.
I wanted the other sister to talk to me, or introduce herself. But she didn't.
But Cristina did go one step further.
"Sophia has a crush on you."
I thought I would stay vague, olique even. "Whose bed did I sleep on last night?" I asked.
"Who do you think?" Cristina replied.
It was like that dream or fantasy that you'd have as an adolescent lying in bed during the morning, that you'd wake up next up to a couple of beautiful girls and have no idea why. I though I must've been getting ahead of myself at this point. I'd probably have to pick one. I'd pick Sophia. I got the feeling she hadn't quite blossomed. Cristina had definetly blossomed.
From the first moment I saw them, I was hooked, like a disease. I had a family at last, it might not last forever, but I didn't care, I wanted it now. And I found my way in. It would have to be through one of the girls. Sophia would be my entrance into the family I wished I had. The family that I desperately needed to have. I would have to make my move. It would have to be a grand gesture.
In the later summer of that year I decided to give it a shot, have a look.
It is not often that a boy will wake up to find himself still in a dream.
The house was cozy. It was very secluded. In the rich Italian countryside, near the sea. I woke up to the sound of the waves drifting in and out, and the noise of people inhabiting downstairs.
I was in a girls bed, my clothes were still on, my white t-shirt and jeans crinkled and tight on my body. I woke up from what felt like a heavy night, perhaps I'd been asleep for a day or two. My muscles were aching, my eyes squinty and I would have to spend the next couple of hours as a zombie before I could fully function.
I laid up in the bed, so I could start to wake up and a small adolescent girl popped her head around the corner. She told me her name was Lilly and asked whether or not I was okay.
The only thing I could say back was, "Where the hell am I?"
Apparently, they had found me outside their house passed out from exhaustion or sunstroke. It would explain my incredible tan. And why I felt incredibly sick.
The whole scenerio instantly reminded me of that scene in "Back to the Future" when Marty Mcfly is knocked down by a car to wake up in his mothers bed. Though I dont remember a scene where Marty Mcfly is throwing up so voraciously into their toilet. My father always told me to throw up in the toilet, as you more likely to block the sink. This was one of the few times I listened ot his advice.
When I looked around I was surrounded by the family who were sizing up this stranger. But with open welcoming arms.
Well I have to admit when I first looked around, they all looked so endearing and sweet. The father or patriarch with his arm round the mother hen, time had not been kind to them, but they still had youthful eyes. Now, the two teenaged daughters, they were quite a sight, one of them was brunette, with a fine sensual face and shy guarded chocolate eyes, the other was blonde, with a sunny yet simulataneously icey face and green or blue eyes. They both resembled each other greatly, but it was as if they were both dipped in different colours, shades and textures. They both had a smashing pair of tits. The two teenage girls ran downstairs to conclude upon what they had seen. I dont think I looked my best. My skin was red, stretched tight and capillaries broken. My hair looked nice though. I've always taken off my shirt to throw up not to proudly show off my chiselled torso but so I dont get sick on my shirt. I'd thrown up worse before. This was no biggie.
When I finished up, the mother and father got me a class of water and explained what the littlest sister told me, but in a more detailed and adult manner.
I think I liked the attention and aduration I got from being the main spectacle of the day, I was that guy.
They suggested I go back to the bedroom for another lye down just a little bit longer as they prepare dinner. I thankfully obliged, as desperately need to sit down and rest for a little bit.
I was very tempted to conjure up the energy to start touching myself. When a guy is all alone in bed, not quite tired enough to sleep, what else is there to do?
I thought about the two sisters and their incredible mammaries. I thought about what they must look like naked, their nipples and their bushes. I could only imagine they don't trim. All this thinking woke me up a bit. Oh, I am a sick man and I am going to hell. These people let me into their house and I'm already playing with my ****, I desperately wanted to unclog the drain, unplug the bottle. I am definetly a tit man.
I realised I must have been on one of their beds, perhaps the sisters shared a room, their were two beds in the room, so hopefully I did not kick anyone out of bed.
When I felt ready and good enough I mustered up the courage to go down stairs and face everyone. I'd noticed I didnt say much. In fact, I hadnt spoken more than four or five words to anyone in days.
I found the father and explained my situation to him, that I was vacationing Italy, finding myself and all that crap. The father was English so I got on well with him, or atleast he could see eye to eye on my laddish manner. I was very cautious and reserved to speak to anyone else unless spoken to. Only the father spoke to me. At this point anyways. I complimented the mother on her house and she said 'Thankyou', apart from that she kept to herself. As mothers do.
Dinner felt a little awkward at first. I was quite ready to eat anything, but naturally I wasn't very use to a family atmosphere. I hadn't seen a family sit down for a dinner in years. It was very alien. But it was very nice.
Everything about the dinner was extraordinary. The onion gravy was sumptuoous, roast potatoes were buttery and honey-coated, crispy and both dry and soggy. The puddings were brown and crispy, with bits of onion in them, and the vegatables they were surprisingly juicy. I hadn't had vegetables in a while.
None surprisingly, I kept my eye on the plate, though every so often it would drift towards one of the girls.
The littlest sister must have been around 13, around that age anyways, so I casually threw playful childish faces her way to lighten the mood and break the ice with one of the girls. Show that I dont take myself too seriously and that I'm capable of being expressive in a quite kind of way. She chuckled, found it funny.
The oldest sister, the blonde, said "You have a very odd face,"
"Thanks." I replied.
I think I have a lovely face, hungry and lean like a dark, brooding Byronic hero. Though, then again, she was probably referring to all those faces I just made.
The sisters talked among themselves, sizing me up again. And the littlest one was quiet and quite shy, she was probably enamoured by me. The parents were talking and dissecting their day. I don't think I quite had the limelight anymore. Thats fine though, I love to listen. Suddenly I realised they all speak good English. Though, all the girls were of Italian heritage. Perhaps, they're on holiday too.
I asked politely to go to the bathroom, and I tucked the chair in and left. I just needed a couple of minutes to stare at myself in the mirror, figure things out. This was just the most unusual and oddest thing. I loved every second of it though. I just needed some time to comprehend it all, backtrack and reflect.
I turned round and the two sisters were there. I noticed the brunette had bigger boobs than the eldest, perhaps a double d. I noticed the blonde had greyish blue eyes. I don't think they caught me looking.
The blonde asked me, "What's your name?", I replied 'Tom Crown.'
I think she thought it was just one word, because from that moment onwards she just called me by the name, "Tomcrown'.
I shook her hand, which was warm and lovely, and in this moment I realised a few hours ago my hand was clenching my magic wand.
She said her name was Cristina Ramos. Her sisters name was Sophia Ramos.
I wanted the other sister to talk to me, or introduce herself. But she didn't.
But Cristina did go one step further.
"Sophia has a crush on you."
I thought I would stay vague, olique even. "Whose bed did I sleep on last night?" I asked.
"Who do you think?" Cristina replied.
It was like that dream or fantasy that you'd have as an adolescent lying in bed during the morning, that you'd wake up next up to a couple of beautiful girls and have no idea why. I though I must've been getting ahead of myself at this point. I'd probably have to pick one. I'd pick Sophia. I got the feeling she hadn't quite blossomed. Cristina had definetly blossomed.
From the first moment I saw them, I was hooked, like a disease. I had a family at last, it might not last forever, but I didn't care, I wanted it now. And I found my way in. It would have to be through one of the girls. Sophia would be my entrance into the family I wished I had. The family that I desperately needed to have. I would have to make my move. It would have to be a grand gesture.