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Gabriella and Antonio

The following story contains adult content and is inappropriate for under 18’s.


I.

Sipping on a glass of red wine I wondered, not for the first time, what the hell I was doing.

Last week I’d overheard two women on a train discussing the benefits of male escorts.  When they’d let the name of the agency slip, something had made me Google it.  I’d been busy at work, in a bit of a dry spell in my personal life and…  Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

From there, a few too many glasses of sauvignon blanc had seen me completing an online booking form, making arrangements to meet Antonio, the Italian Stallion.  That hadn’t been the end of it, the booking had only been confirmed when a woman named Priscilla had called me, taking my credit card details and suggesting I meet Antonio at this little hole in the wall wine bar not even a block from my apartment.

It was, Priscilla told me, completely up to me whether I took Antonio home; but either way, my credit card would be charged.  At the time, I’d agreed, thinking that was fair.  But now, sitting here, my stomach was churning and I was thinking that $1500 was going to go to waste.

“Gabriella?”

Holy shit.

Antonio, the Italian Stallion was gorgeous.  Much better in person than he was in his profile picture.  He had thick, dark curly hair, a well groomed beard and piercing green eyes that were kind of intimidating.  It felt like he could read my mind and, given my mind had slipped directly into the gutter, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“It is Gabriella, yes?”

I nodded, and swallowed.  “Yeah.  Yes, Gabriella.  I’m Gabriella.  You must be Antonio?”

“I am.  May I sit?”

“Yes, please.  Of course.”

“Thank you,” Antonio sat across from me at the small round table and reached out to cover my hand with his.  He grinned, a cheeky grin.  “So, what brings such a beautiful woman out by herself tonight?”

I laughed.  It had been exactly the right thing for him to say.

“Well, I had a bit of a rough day at work,” I began, taking another sip of my wine.  “I wanted to take a bit of time to decompress.”

Antonio idly stroked his fingers over the back of my hand, causing my skin to tingle.  “What is it that you do?”

“I’m in banking, corporate asset financing.”  I shook my head as I saw his forehead crinkle slightly.  “I help companies organise financing to buy and lease property and equipment.”

Antonio nodded.  “You must work a lot?”

“Some would say too much,” I replied.  “All work and no play makes Gabriella a dull girl.”

“I’m certain that’s not the case,” he said with that cheeky grin and a glance at my almost empty wine glass.  “Would you like another?”

This was the now or never point.  If I ordered another glass it would take time for the wine to be served, and for me to drink it.  And this was only a two hour engagement.

“Do you like nebbiolo?” I asked.

Antonio looked at me strangely but nodded.  “Yes.”

“I have a bottle at my apartment,” I said, looking down at the table.  “Would you like to join me for a glass?”

“I would.”

II.

Walking out of the wine bar, I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me up.  Everything felt a little unreal, like everything had been slowed down and, as I stepped out onto the footpath, I stumbled slightly.  Antonio reached out to steady me, his huge hands coming to rest on my hips.

“Thank you,” I said, fighting a blush as I got my feet back beneath me.

“You’re welcome,” Antonio replied with an incline of his head.

I stepped forward, heading towards my apartment.  “I, uh, I’m down this way.”

As we began to walk, Antonio dropped his hands and I immediately missed their warmth.  I wasn’t a small woman and his huge hands almost spanned the width of my hips.  I wondered what those hands would feel like against my bare skin and immediately shivered.  Then I started thinking about why his hands would come to be on my skin and I wondered again what the hell I was doing.  I blamed Google.

I started walking faster, trying to burn off some nervous energy.  Antonio kept up easily, his long legs matching pace with my much shorter ones in very high heels.  As we reached my front door, he put out a hand to stop me.

“You are nervous, yes?” he asked, his head tilting sideways as he watched my face.

“Uh, um, uh.  Well, yes,” I said, looking at the ground.  “I am.”

He reached forward, the tips of his fingers lifting my chin.  “It is okay to be nervous.  But please remember, you are in control.  Nothing will happen unless you want it to happen.”

I nodded, and he slid his hand around, cupping my cheek.

“But,” Antonio grinned. “If you do not mind, I would like to kiss you now.”

“Oh.”  Blinking stupidly, I couldn’t find words.  His gaze was steady, and patient, waiting for my answer.  I could feel his thumb rubbing softly against my cheek and, as he rubbed, my whole body seemed to pulse.  I struggled to think clearly but his touch felt so good, I knew I wanted more.

And he recognised it too.  “Yes?”

“Yes.”

III.

Warm.  I felt warm from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.  He slanted his lips over mine, gently sliding then sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.  My hands came up and clenched in the material of his shirt, pressing into the hard muscle of his chest.  This wasn’t my first kiss, it wasn’t my second or my third.  But it was the best kiss I’d ever experienced and I guessed I shouldn’t be surprised.  It was his profession after all.

“Should we go inside?” he asked, dipping his head to suck on the skin beneath my ear.

“Yes,” I agreed, turning in his embrace and struggling to put my key in the lock.  With some effort, I managed to open the door and stepped inside, Antonio close behind.  But once inside I stopped, no idea what to do next.

Antonio reached up, easing my coat from my shoulders and taking my handbag, dropping them both on the couch.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured, his hot breath fluttering across my ear.  “How about that wine?”

I nodded, moving quickly into hostess mode, pulling a bottle of nebbiolo from my wine rack and taking two large wine glasses from a cupboard.  I busied myself with pouring while Antonio leaned in the doorway, legs crossed at the ankle and his hands buried in his pockets.  His work must pay well, because I could swear the suit was a beautifully tailored Hugo Boss.

Placing the bottle onto the counter I held out a glass to him.  He crossed to me in two long steps.

“Saluti.”

With a quiet clink, he touched his glass to mine and took a sip.  I gulped.

He took another sip and, as he put his glass on the bench, I took another gulp.

“May I?” he said, reaching out for my wine glass.

I took a third gulp, almost finishing my wine, and handed the glass to him.  He put it down beside his own.  Then he reached forward, his dexterous fingers freeing the first button on my soft silk blouse from its fastening.

Then he freed the second.  And the third.

Freeing the third button bared my pale pink lace bra to him and he smiled.  “Pretty,” he said, running a finger along the lace edge.  “Pretty pink.  I wonder what else I will find that is pink.”  I automatically blushed and he lifted his hand to my cheek.

“Ah, see, yes.  Pretty pink.”

Antonio dropped his hand back to my blouse.  “More?”

I could barely nod, but it was enough.  He popped the fourth and fifth buttons free, tugging the blouse from my skirt and making short work of the rest before slipping it from my shoulders.

“Ah, bella,” he murmured, tucking his finger under the lace of one cup and pulling it down.  The fabric gathered beneath my breast, forcing it up.  He ran his finger over my puckered nipple.  “More pretty pretty pink.  Yes.”

Oh, fuck it, I thought, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra, letting the shoulder straps fall loose.  Antonio immediately took hold of the fabric, tugging it forward and off and replacing the lace with his hands.

“Bella,” he began, tearing his eyes away from my breasts and meeting my gaze.  “If you tell me to stop, I will stop.  Yes?”

I nodded.

“Good.  Tell me to stop and I will stop.  But now, I want very much to take you to bed.  Yes?”

“Please.”

IV.

I left my blouse and bra in a puddle of fabric on the floor in my kitchen and led Antonio through my apartment to the bedroom.

My bedroom in my apartment was my favourite room in the place.  I’d been lucky enough to snap up a three bedroom apartment during a lull in the market.  The third bedroom had been too small to be useful, but it had been in the perfect place for me to knock through the wall and expand the main bedroom giving me enough room for a queen sized bed and a cozy armchair, side table and lamp.

Antonio hummed as he followed me into the room, stepping up behind me.  He reached around to cup my bare breasts in his hands, weighing them in his palms before again rolling my nipples between his fingers.

While Antonio played with my breasts, I reached behind my back and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the floor.  In anticipation of tonight I’d worn a simple pink lace g-string underneath my skirt, and added a pair of indulgent black lace garters, holding up sheer black stockings.

“Leave the garters and shoes on, yes?” Antonio asked, peering over my shoulder.

“Okay,” I agreed, turning myself around in his arms and clenching my hands in the fabric of his shirt.  “May I?”

“Of course.”

Antonio grinned as I pulled the fabric of his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it quickly.  I pushed the undone shirt and his suit coat off his shoulders but caught them both before they hit the floor, tossing them on to the armchair.  Hugo Boss should not be thrown on the floor.  I moved my hands back to his pants and looked up, unsure.

Instead of answering, Antonio started to walk giving me no choice but to back up towards the bed.  Just as my legs hit the side of the bed, Antonio stopped and, with amazing skill, unsnapped my garters, pulled off my panties and reattached the ribbons.  Then he gently shoved me back onto the bed.

I landed with a gasp, and he grinned, unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants and letting them drop to the floor before kicking them away.  He toed off his shoes but left his tight cotton boxers on, and, even with only a quick glimpse, I understood why they called him the Stallion.  He was clearly huge, his burgeoning erection tenting the front of his underwear.

Before I could move, or panic, Antonio kneeled up on the bed and braced on his hands on either side of me.

“Easy, bella,” he murmured, ducking his head to kiss and lick at the side of my neck.  “You are delicious here.”  He moved further down, nipping at the swell of my breast.  “And here.” He took my nipple into his mouth and sucked.

“Fuck.”  I wriggled as Antonio continued to pay attention to my breasts, shifting between sucking and squeezing, seemingly attempting to pay both sides equal attention.  But the more he sucked, the more I wanted, my body moving restlessly beneath him, my knees pulling up as he settled more firmly between my legs.  I knew where I wanted him, but he was taking his damn sweet time getting there.

“More, Antonio, please.”

“Yes bella,” he said, his voice muffled against my stomach as he shifted further down the bed, kissing and licking as he moved.  He pressed a kiss to my belly and then lifted his head, propping himself up on one elbow.

“And yes, more pretty pretty pink,” he said, slipping the fingers of his other hand between my folds and spreading me open to his gaze.

I groaned.  I was dripping wet and the wet squelchy sound I made as he moved his fingers around my clit was not attractive.  But, when he slipped two of his long fingers inside me and found that spot, stroking it as he stroked my clit, I didn’t care about the noise.  I just threw my head back and rode his fingers until I came, hard.

“Magnificent, Gabriella.”  Antonio slowed his hand, but did not stop as I shuddered around him.  “Bellissimo.”

“More Gabriella?” he asked, pulling his fingers from inside me and reaching across my bed for a condom he must have thrown there earlier.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, stifling crazy giggles as I watched the gorgeous man kneeling on my bed sheathing his massive cock in latex.  “Please Antonio, yes.  Fuck me, please.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

Falling forward, Antonio braced himself on his hands and knees over me, leaning down to bite the side of my neck.  “How do you want me?  Like this bella?” he asked, reaching between us to take his cock in his hand.

My hand joined his between our bodies and I gently tugged him forward, rubbing the head of his cock between my folds.  I’d always loved the sensation of a man covering me, the look of the muscles in his arms bunching as he held himself but my last boyfriend had been a bit of a lazy bastard, and hadn’t liked having to do any work.  His idea of a good time had been me riding him, while he lay there with his hands folded behind his head.  So, given the choice, I was definitely going to take the opportunity to enjoy this.

“Yes, Antonio, just like this.”

Antonio slowly guided his cock inside me and I reached down, impatiently grabbing hold of his ass and pushing up to meet him.  I was a little ambitious though, and grunted as he stretched me.

“Easy, bella,” he murmured, pushing in a little more and withdrawing, then sliding in again.  “I do not want to hurt you.”

Pouting, I squeezed my fingers into his ass cheeks.  “I should have told you I’m not good with delayed gratification.”

“Delayed?” Antonio said, his voice a little rough as he worked himself in deeper.  Then he pulled back and pushed in harder, bringing one hand back to rub his fingers on my swollen clit. “You’ve already come once, what was delayed about that?”

Yeah.  I guess he had a point.

Antonio kept thrusting.  In and out, a little deeper each time until, with a final shift of his hips I could feel him as deep inside me as he could go.

“Oh, mmmmmm, more.  Please.”

“More?”  Antonio pulled his fingers away from my clit and shifted, short sharp thrusts rubbing his pelvis against me.

“Fuck.  Yes.  More.”

“I like a girl with a dirty mouth,” Antonio said, laughing as he picked up the pace.  Each thrust was hitting in just the right place, each withdrawal dragging his cock against that spot inside me that he’d found earlier.

“Can you come again like this?”  Antonio asked, his breathing starting to become ragged.

I nodded and shook my head at the same time.  I could come, but I didn’t want it to end.  With a grin, he reached between us, adding his thumb to the mix, and he pressed it against my clit.

“Fuck.  Fuck.  Yes Antonio.  Fuck.”

V.

With three more thrusts, Antonio was done and he scooped me up, rolling so that I was sprawled across his chest.  He didn’t talk, there probably wasn’t much to say, but he held me, stroking my back as my heart slowed back to its normal rate and my breath returned to my lungs.

He also took care of the condom, holding on to it as he softened and slipped out of me before wrapping it in tissues from beside my bed and dropping it on the floor.

Eventually, I lifted my head and folded my hands across his chest.

“Thank you.”

“Not at all,” he said, a slight blush in his cheeks.  “It is my pleasure.  But may I use your shower?”

“Sure,” I nodded.  “It’s just through there.”  I pointed to the door and rolled away, letting him slide naked off the bed.  I grinned as he scooped the condom up from the floor as he walked to the bathroom.  Such a gentleman.

I dozed as he showered, lazy and replete. Sure I’d vibrated myself to orgasm pretty often during my dry spell, but nothing quite beat having an actual man in your bed.  When I heard the shower shut off, I made myself get up, kicking my shoes away and pulling the garters off before wrapping myself in a huge fluffy robe and heading back into my kitchen for another glass of wine.

A few minutes later Antonio joined me, now fully dressed in his suit.

Catching my hand in his, he pulled me close, and pressed a soft, closed mouth kiss to my lips.  “Gabriella, bella, thank you for this evening.  But I must be going.”

I blushed and wondered what the etiquette was for this kind of thing.  At least I didn’t have to hand over cash.  “Of course.  And thank you.  Thank you for a wonderful night.”

“It is my pleasure, bella.  Maybe we will meet again?”

I smiled, and walked him to my door.  “Maybe.”

© Kristine Charles

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