Tarheel
09-24-2006, 02:52 AM
My partner of many years has never understood my fascination with briefs and speedos. In fact, he thinks it is a little weird. So we don't talk about it. With him it's clothes off and get at it as fast as possible. Also, he sleeps in the nude and doesn't like it when I sleep in briefs. (He does have other good and redeeming qualities and has always been a considerate and skilled lover.)
At any rate, about ten years ago we were vacationing in Puglia which is the "heel" of the Italian "boot." We were staying at a small hotel in a small city in a seashore resort area. In Italy, the beaches are considered public places. The trick is to get to the beaches because in many places they are lined with big hotels that are rather touchy about people other than their guests crossing their elaborate grounds. One day we decided to try to find this public beach to the north of the city that we had read or heard had a nude section. So we set off, wearing shorts and tees and very small backpacks for our personal belongings. We walked several miles out of town along a road that took us further and further out into the country, although it always ran parallel to the beach. We had no idea how far we had walked or how much further we had to walk because we couldn't remember how to convert kilometers into miiles. And while we have always heard many tales about allegedly nude beaches in Italy, we only ever found one on Lipari, a small island that belongs to Sicily.
We decided to turn back, but my partner said he sure wished we could walk back along the beach. We were now well out of the posh hotel area and noticed that we were near the entrance to a simple camp ground. While I waited up by the road, my partner went to ask the property manager for permission to cross it to the beach. He took a little longer than I expected to get back, but he soon returned with the message that the manager on duty wanted to meet me. "Meet me?" I asked. "What the hell do we have to do to cross the property, be interviewed and offer references?" "No," he said, "I think the guy wants to have sex with us." "Shazam!" I thought.
I went to meet the guy who did want to get it on with us; but he was still on duty for two more hours. We told him we would walk down to the beach and be back. Those two hours were the hardest two hours of my life (pun intended). My partner and I used the time to have a long, frank and honest talk about what this might mean for our relationship and came to some agreements and understandings. He said that if I didn't want to do this, we could just go on back to the hotel and not be at all angry or anything. I wanted to do it.
We went back to the guy's little cabin. (Geeze, I can still picture him , but I can't remember his name now.) He was barefooted and wearing nothing but a blue speedo-type swim suit. He offered us some wine, and we sat around and talked for a while. The guy and I were seated on a couch and gradually got into some kissing and foreplay. I eventually got down to my briefs. My partner, true to form got everything off at once, Finally the guy got in front of me and started sucking me through my briefs. My partner started fucking him from behind. My briefs got kind of juicy and slippery from the sucking. It felt good, and I shot into them. The guy continued, trying to suck my cum through the cotton briefs. I don't know how this would have worked under other circumstances; but I was so super-excited about my first 3-way and about having this long-time fantasy of being sucked through my briefs finally fulfilled, that I might have shot off into them even if he hadn't done much of anything. (It's really hot, too, watching your partner fuck someone else.)
After that we sat around for a couple hours, drinking a little more wine. playing with each other a little now and then, and talking. For Round 2, my partner fucked me from behind while I serviced the guy, lowering his speedo just enough for his cock and balls to hang out over them (another long-time fantasy). By the time we finished, it was late into the afternoon. So we took showers together, and we headed back.
Along the way back to town, we passed and walked through hordes of German tourists who just love the Italian sun and beaches. The men were almost all in speedos. Many of the women had gone topless. And all of the children up to about 7 were running around totally naked. I noticed them; but I didn't notice them, if you know what I mean. I was experiencing such a welter of emotions about what we had just done. Since we left the next morning by bus and then train for Lecce and places further south, we never saw our friend again.
At any rate, about ten years ago we were vacationing in Puglia which is the "heel" of the Italian "boot." We were staying at a small hotel in a small city in a seashore resort area. In Italy, the beaches are considered public places. The trick is to get to the beaches because in many places they are lined with big hotels that are rather touchy about people other than their guests crossing their elaborate grounds. One day we decided to try to find this public beach to the north of the city that we had read or heard had a nude section. So we set off, wearing shorts and tees and very small backpacks for our personal belongings. We walked several miles out of town along a road that took us further and further out into the country, although it always ran parallel to the beach. We had no idea how far we had walked or how much further we had to walk because we couldn't remember how to convert kilometers into miiles. And while we have always heard many tales about allegedly nude beaches in Italy, we only ever found one on Lipari, a small island that belongs to Sicily.
We decided to turn back, but my partner said he sure wished we could walk back along the beach. We were now well out of the posh hotel area and noticed that we were near the entrance to a simple camp ground. While I waited up by the road, my partner went to ask the property manager for permission to cross it to the beach. He took a little longer than I expected to get back, but he soon returned with the message that the manager on duty wanted to meet me. "Meet me?" I asked. "What the hell do we have to do to cross the property, be interviewed and offer references?" "No," he said, "I think the guy wants to have sex with us." "Shazam!" I thought.
I went to meet the guy who did want to get it on with us; but he was still on duty for two more hours. We told him we would walk down to the beach and be back. Those two hours were the hardest two hours of my life (pun intended). My partner and I used the time to have a long, frank and honest talk about what this might mean for our relationship and came to some agreements and understandings. He said that if I didn't want to do this, we could just go on back to the hotel and not be at all angry or anything. I wanted to do it.
We went back to the guy's little cabin. (Geeze, I can still picture him , but I can't remember his name now.) He was barefooted and wearing nothing but a blue speedo-type swim suit. He offered us some wine, and we sat around and talked for a while. The guy and I were seated on a couch and gradually got into some kissing and foreplay. I eventually got down to my briefs. My partner, true to form got everything off at once, Finally the guy got in front of me and started sucking me through my briefs. My partner started fucking him from behind. My briefs got kind of juicy and slippery from the sucking. It felt good, and I shot into them. The guy continued, trying to suck my cum through the cotton briefs. I don't know how this would have worked under other circumstances; but I was so super-excited about my first 3-way and about having this long-time fantasy of being sucked through my briefs finally fulfilled, that I might have shot off into them even if he hadn't done much of anything. (It's really hot, too, watching your partner fuck someone else.)
After that we sat around for a couple hours, drinking a little more wine. playing with each other a little now and then, and talking. For Round 2, my partner fucked me from behind while I serviced the guy, lowering his speedo just enough for his cock and balls to hang out over them (another long-time fantasy). By the time we finished, it was late into the afternoon. So we took showers together, and we headed back.
Along the way back to town, we passed and walked through hordes of German tourists who just love the Italian sun and beaches. The men were almost all in speedos. Many of the women had gone topless. And all of the children up to about 7 were running around totally naked. I noticed them; but I didn't notice them, if you know what I mean. I was experiencing such a welter of emotions about what we had just done. Since we left the next morning by bus and then train for Lecce and places further south, we never saw our friend again.