Page 59 of Her Filthy Italians

He latches onto my clit and starts sucking hard, the pressure building until I’m moaning and fisting his hair, tugging at it and urging him on. He pumps his tongue, making my toes curl.

I lean back against Marco, and he sucks on my nape, dropping one hand from my thigh and squeezing my breasts. “We love how you give yourself over to the pleasure, tesoro,” he murmurs into my ear. “We love you…”

Alessio gets up from the floor and lifts my hips so that Marco can push into my pussy from behind. I’m so wet he meets little resistance. Once he’s buried to the hilt, I slide up and down on his shaft, turning my head to suck on Alessio’s cock.

“Ready?” he gazes into my eyes.

“Ready,” I breathe.

Marco slides down so that his feet are planted on the floor, slightly apart, and I lie back, his cock still inside me.

Alessio stands in front, his legs on each side of us.

He loops my legs around him and gently eases his dick on top of Marco’s.

And then he starts fucking us. One leg on the floor and the other next to me on the sofa. Marco holds onto the back of my thighs. Alessio rests his weight on one hand and plays with my breasts with the other. He pushes his fingers into my mouth and I suck on them. “That’s good, bambina. That’s good, amore. God, how I love the two of you…”

The feeling of their cocks stretching me, filling me, rubbing together as Alessio thrusts is beyond amazing. My tits bounce with the movement, and he plays with them again. I can’t stop moaning and turning my head from side to side.

I know what’s coming next, and I lick my lips in anticipation. This is my favorite part of our filthy fucking.

Alessio pulls out of me and lifts me off Marco. They lie back on opposite sides of the sofa, facing each other. Marco rests one leg on the top of the couch, and Alessio scissors his legs around Marco’s other one. Their butts are pressed tightly together, their balls rubbing, and their rock-hard dicks stand straight up in the air.

I straddle them, knees bent, one foot on the floor, the other on the sofa next to Marco’s hip. I’m facing him, my back to Alessio, and I position myself right over the top of both their cocks, fisting them at the same time with my hand, and pressing them up to my wet opening. I sink my full weight down onto them and my pussy takes them in. “Ahhh,” I moan.

Alessio’s hands go to my hips to lift me up and down. Marco’s hands go to my tits, squeezing them and making me moan even more. They fill me so full it’s like we have become one entity. But we need release and I know how to achieve that. I slide and grind and step up my movements, bouncing on my filthies, their two hot dicks inside me.

Alessio reaches around to palm my breasts and tweak my nipples.

Marco presses down on my clit.

“I’m coming,” I squeal as I clamp my muscles around their dicks. My entire body judders as the waves of my climax crash through me.

And my filthies come too, their cocks spasming inside me.

I lift myself off them and they pull me down so that I’m sandwiched between their hot bodies.

“Quanto vi amo,” Marco’s breath rasps.

Between kisses, we tell him that we love him back. It seems we never get tired of saying it.

I smile to myself as I snuggle into their sides. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I never imagined when I stared out the window of the 747 as it descended toward Venice airport in January last year, so freaking excited I could barely breathe, that I’d fall in love with two filthy Italians, and they would fall in love with me.

And I simply cannot wait to find out what the future has in store for us.EpilogueFour Years LaterSefi“Mamma, Mamma!” Rafa pedals toward me on his Harley Davidson toddler trike, his three-year-old legs pumping.

He’s followed by Marco, his proud daddy, who scoops him up before he crashes into me. Marco blows raspberry kisses down his neck, and Rafa unleashes a peel of giggles.

Marco cocks his head. “Would you like me to take him out for a walk?”

I’m busy laying the table and accept gladly.

Today is my second son, Dante’s first birthday, and we’re celebrating with Marco and Alessio’s parents. Just a family lunch as it’s Sunday. Alessio is in the kitchen cooking up a storm.

It’s a warm June day, and I fan my cheeks. No chance of installing AC in this centuries-old building. I cross the marble tiled floor and go to the window, open it and gaze down at the sight of the Grand Canal below. The ubiquitous tourists taking gondola rides. Water taxis and vaporetti. The pearly palaces lining the banks of the waterway. The view never ceases to amaze me.

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