When in Rome… Pt. 01

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I know there are several readers out there waiting for more chapters of a few of my other stories…and rest assured those are in process, but I needed to get this one out of my head before I could do those justice.

Let me know what you think when you’re done, please?


“Yo, big bro… How’d you like to go out for breakf…” she began, opening the door suddenly. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry!”

The luscious little brunette with the improbably large boobs, who had been giving herself a serious fucking on my dick, rolled off me, squealing in protest. She hid her nudity behind the sheets, peeking around the edge. We’d been especially energetic, if not boisterous, this morning, resulting in us being twisted around on the bed, on top of the covers. While my buxom partner had managed to keep her exposure time to a minimum, I was trapped, naked as the day I was born, struggling to find something to cover myself with. My erection bobbed with my movements, standing straight up, and glistening with a freshly applied coating of pussy juice, thanks to my bedmate’s damp, excited vagina.

Carolyn tried to close the door, but she’d lost her grip on the doorknob when she burst in on us, surprising herself as much as anyone. Now she was searching blindly for the handle, having initially been unable to look away from my naked shaft, finally just closing her eyes and muttering “Shit! Shit! Shit! I’m sorry!” as she groped around. She found the lever at last, and beat a hasty retreat, pulling the door shut while repeating the same apologetic mantra.

Perhaps I should explain how I ended up in this predicament.


I’m David. Nice to meet you. I was six when my sister Carolyn was born. I immediately nicknamed her Ro, mostly because Carolyn was too much work, but also because she was small, and cute, so I gave her a small, cute name.

The age difference that made her cute and cuddly when I was younger, made her a big pain in the ass when I grew up a bit. Nothing gets in the way of trying to steal your first kiss from a girl quite like a little sister sticking her nose in. She was like a shadow, always the most obvious when things looked brightest.

By the time I was eighteen, she had perfected her craft. Every time I tried to make my move on a would-be girlfriend, she’d appear out of the ether, and scuttle my plans to lose my virginity. Some of my potential conquests found it funny, a viewpoint I didn’t share.

Thank God for college, where I was away from her and my family for months at a time. I finally scored, with a willowy blonde coed from one of my classes. A few girlfriends later, I thought I found ‘the one’, and proposed.

We were married. I was twenty-one, and my fifteen year old sister spent most of the wedding reception with her arms crossed, giving me, and especially my new bride, Kate, a look that left no doubt about her disapproval.

Carolyn had always been a bit chubby, but she seemed to really balloon a bit in her teens. Mom carried a few extra pounds, too, so I suppose Ro came by it honestly, but she surpassed Mom by quite a margin. I don’t know how much she actually weighed, but it had to be a bit north of two hundred. It’s a good thing she was relatively tall, or she would have been very round. I want you to know that I love my sister. I’m just being honest, and objective.

After graduation, we relocated for an excellent career opportunity that presented itself to me. I was being groomed for upward mobility within the international company, but it meant that I didn’t see my family for very long stretches of time, occasionally years. On a few instances, while I was able to visit my parents, my arrival was during times when Ro was away at school.

As the years passed, it turned out that perhaps my sister’s opinion of my wife was prophetically correct. While the company was grooming me, a few of the more senior executives were grooming her, for mobility of a more horizontal nature. She became the favourite plaything of a couple of the bastards. I had no idea, until one of the secretaries took pity on me and spilled the beans.

The scandal cost me one wife, but to my great relief, the company backed me, doing what was right, and relieving the two most unrepentant ‘gentlemen’ of their jobs, and their pensions as well. They had always valued the family, having started as a family business, and they had little patience for such philandering.

In a perfect world, or in Hollywood, I would have been offered one of their vacated positions, and found a new spouse that put my old one to shame. Real life… Not so much, but I did get the job of the guy, that got the job of the guy, that got the job of one of the fired guys. No luck on the spouse.

It’s likely that the unfairness of that past situation also played a part in them offering me a position abroad. I said it was an international company, and I meant it. The office in Rome suddenly had an opening, ultrabet yeni giriş and despite the fact that I didn’t speak a lick of the language, I was tapped for the spot. Most of the business was conducted in English, anyway, and I would have no shortage of help with the few circumstances that required the native language. Perhaps it also helped that I was single, as the company liked to keep families together, and usually compensated relocated spouses, and even children, for international moves. Whatever their logic, I was headed for Rome!


A quick search on the Internet will tell you that the ‘average’ male stands about 5 foot 9, weighs about 175 pounds, wears a size 9 shoe, and packs about 5.5 inches of dick between his legs. Well, that’s average, that’s not me.

This may come as a surprise to some men who try to dispute the fact, but bigger guys are often bigger… everywhere. They’re taller, weigh more, wear bigger shoes, and have bigger dicks. If you think about for just a second without personal bias, it makes logical sense. Sorry for bursting your bubble, average guys.

I mention this because, apparently, Italian girls have figured it out already, and many of them were eager to see if the theory held true for me. At 6 foot 6,, 230 pounds, with a size 13 foot, I stood out among the local men, and the comment I heard most from the women I bedded was “E ‘così grande!” ‘Grande’, as in your larger cup of coffee. Enough said? Good.

It didn’t take too long for a few of the girls at the new office to make themselves available. Italian women are world famous for their dark, sultry looks and abundant curves… think Sophia Loren, Claudia Cardinale, or Gina Lollobrigida… which put me in heaven, potential partner wise. I nearly gave myself whiplash several times while trying to take in the local beauties.

One night, I was partaking in one of those exotic lovelies, a lithe little brunette named Alessandra. We had been rolling about in sweaty, sexual bliss for about an hour, with my Italian sweetie tutoring me in what ‘fuck me harder’ and ‘lick my pussy’, or their Italian equivalents, sounded like. We were both catching our breath, preparing for a resumption of the festivities, when my phone rang. Something told me to answer it.

“David, is that you?” the voice asked.

“Yes… Carolyn?” I guessed, correctly.

“I guess I haven’t been forgotten, after all. Care to get together? I’m in town,” she asked.

“Ro, I’m way out of town,” I replied, figuring she thought I was at my last known office.

“Duh… I know that, you’re in Rome. You’ve been there for seven months. Find any good pizza joints?” she laughed.

“How’d you know that?” I asked, confused.

“I called your company, they filled in the blanks,” she answered. “So are you going to meet me for dinner, or what?”

“You’re in Rome, too?” I wondered.

“No, I expect you to fly back to Norfolk… Of course I’m in Rome, you dolt!” she giggled. “I sense some reluctance… did I catch you at a bad time?

“Um, yeah, you could say that,” I chuckled. Alessandra was getting impatient, and had one of her delicate little hands wrapped around my cock, stroking it gently.

“What’s her name?” Ro sighed, then continued with a lusty giggle, “and what’s she doing right now? Wait! Don’t tell me… Don’t tell me! I don’t need those mental images bouncing around in my head. Let’s just say we have dinner tomorrow night, okay?”

“You got a deal!” I groaned. Alessandra was being exceptionally cruel by now, sucking my cock as a distraction.

We quickly discussed the time and location details, which I’m very glad were basic and simple to understand. I don’t think my brain could have handled anything complicated, with a sexy Italian enthusiastically slurping my dick while I listened.

“Okay, you may now return to your previous deviant behaviour. See you tomorrow,” she laughed, and the line went silent.

“Vieni cazzo la mia figa, tesoro mio,” Alessandra moaned, laying back and spreading her legs invitingly. No translation necessary.


I followed a local into the hotel bar, doing a quick once over as I entered the room. Mostly empty, other than maybe a half dozen denizens. One woman at the bar, and two waitresses, but no sign of my sister yet. She’d be easy to spot, I thought, despite the fact we hadn’t seen each other in years. Just look for the pleasantly plump blonde.

The clock ticked on, and still no Carolyn. The woman at the bar was getting a lot of attention from the other customers, and I was watching as well. She had deep, lustrous, wavy red hair that reached about the middle of her back. Her hair and her ass were pretty much all I could see, but it was all good.

I waited. The redhead politely declined yet another drink, and checked her watch. Another guy approached her, standing beside her and dropping his hand on her ass.

“Toglimi le mani di dosso, cazzo!” she ultrabet giriş growled, and turned her head to glare at him.

“What the fuck?” I gasped. That voice… That profile… That’s my sister! Or at least, it’s part of my sister, and a small part, at that!

Carolyn’s latest fan had beat a hasty retreat, and I walked up behind her.

“Hey gorgeous,” I said gruffly, hoping she wouldn’t recognize my voice.

“Fuck off, will you!” she sighed, turning to face her new tormentor. “Do you guys never learn?” Her eyes rose up my chest, finally reaching my face, when they flew open wide.

“David!” she shrieked, and leapt into my arms.

“Ro!” I laughed. “I didn’t recognize you! When does the rest of you get here?” Okay, that might sound mean, but I hoped she’d know I was joking.

“Thursday,” she deadpanned, “got held up in Customs. Fucking bureaucracy!” Her smile lit up the room. “You like?” she asked, twirling in front of me.

“What’s not to like? You’re gorgeous!” I replied.

I wasn’t kidding about that. The last time I saw her, she was pretty, in a chubby cherub kind of way, but wouldn’t have had them standing in the aisles. I’d just seen her get hit on by no less than five strangers in a ten minute span, easily eighty percent of the male population of the bar. She was now a full-on hottie, with the whole package ; beautiful hair, great legs, a sexy ass, pretty face… and a pair of tits that were threatening to burst out of her top! When she hugged me again, I could feel those full, firm melons pressing deliciously into me. Not only did she no longer look like the little sister I grew up with, she didn’t feel like her either. She held on to me for a long time, as though making up for the seven years that had passed since we had last seen each other. I have to admit, she felt pretty good to me, too.

We walked arm-in-arm out of the bar, heading for the restaurant area. I got several looks from the guys who had been rebuffed by Ro. Some expressed envy, others were apologetic, assuming she was my girlfriend.

We were seated quickly. The restaurant was nicely decorated. I guess it was technically more of a pub style, but in Italy, even the casual dining was done with old-world class and style. I helped Ro into her seat, and sat across from her. Finally, I had a chance to really look at her. With her new red hair, she was stunning. Losing the weight had brought her bone structure into play, and gave her more of the high, wide cheekbone look that is so popular with fashion photographers. Her dark brown eyes went better with the new hair colour too. She let me gawk at her for a while, then spoke.

“Okay, get it over with… I know you have questions. Ask,” she said with a wave. She folded her arms, squishing her boobs together and up, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by me. It temporarily derailed my thoughts, just long enough for Ro to see my eyeline. “I’m up here,” she giggled. If she had been wearing anything revealing, I’d have had no chance. Her chest was entrancing enough, fully covered as it was.

“Right,” I sighed. “Sorry. So, what are you doing in Rome? Are you following me again, Shadow?” I gave her a mischievous smile.

“Damn! You figured me out!” she laughed. “Sorry, Bro… I Love you, but I’m not going to follow you halfway around the world just to interrupt your love life. I’m just on vacation. I am sorry I called at a bad time yesterday. I trust you managed to find your place again after we hung up?” She grinned.

Actually yes, I thought, remembering how Alessandra had lovingly guided my dick back into her pussy. She was a very enjoyable fuck, her energy and passion more than adequately making up for her smallish breasts. I found himself staring at my sister’s boobs again.

“Also, I’m sorry for the way things happened with Kate,” she whispered, touching my hand. I felt the pangs associated with that name. They happened every time I thought of her, but thankfully, the effect was now quickly swept aside. Time really does heal all wounds.

“Water under the bridge,” I replied, forcing a smile. “You know, you could have told me I was screwing up when I married her.”

“Huh?” she asked.

“I remember the look you were giving us during the wedding. You knew something was wrong, and you were right,” I explained.

“Oh, that,” she whispered, suppressing a smile. “I’m not psychic. I didn’t have any inside information, or premonitions. I was just jealous. She was stealing my big brother. I would have given that look to June Cleaver,” she said quietly, referring to the ultra-committed, totally faithful housewife from the TV show ‘Leave it to Beaver’ in the fifties. Re-runs are immortal.

“I can’t get over how good you look,” I said. “How… Um…”

“What happened to the rest of me?” she giggled coyly. I nodded, grateful to have been let off the hook. “Well, I got sick and tired of being nineteen and fat. One of my roommates at college was ultrabet güvenilirmi working on her thesis in nutrition, and I volunteered to be her guinea pig. The short version is that we decreased my intake very gradually, while increasing exercise at the same pace. She thought the body would find its own sweet spot, balancing everything, and she was right. It took three years, but seventy-nine pounds just disappeared, and I’ve maintained it for three more years,” she finished, with a flourish of her hands.

“That’s great, Ro! I’m happy for you!” I said, meaning every word.

“I’m not quite finished. There were casualties,” she laughed, looking down at her chest. “Boobs are mostly fat, so I ended up not having any. Just the wrappers. I finally decided to have them restored to their former glory, and then some,” she smiled, shaking her shoulders. Her big tits did their little jiggling, swinging dance on her chest. “Do they work?”

“Oh fuck yeah!” I moaned. I can’t help it… I have a weakness for big tits… bazooms… knockers… hooters. The fact that these ones were my sister’s did nothing to lessen my appreciation of their beautiful, full, rounded form.

“Grazie, pervertito!” she smiled. The ‘grazie’ I understood, but I didn’t like the sound of ‘pervert-whatever’. I think I’d just been insulted. It also brought up another question.

“So what’s with the sudden Italian interest? Why Rome now?”

“Well, I won’t pretend that seeing my Big Brother after so many years didn’t play a role, but I did want to see Rome. Call it ‘two birds with one trip’,” she laughed.

We spent another hour or so catching up. I really missed her. Even as a kid, she was always fun. I had another question.

“Ro, how long are you here?” I asked.

“Almost four more weeks,” she chirped. “I won’t be here, in Rome, the whole time, but I’m using it as my home base.”

“Great!” I smiled. “Pack your shit, you’re living with me!”

“What? No! I didn’t come here to leech off you!” she shook her head. “Besides, based on last night, I’d say you need your privacy.”

“My apartment has three bedrooms. I’m using one as an office, and one for me. That leaves one empty, and paid for. Actually, paid for by the company. It’s their apartment, technically, but my home. As far as privacy goes, the doors work,” I said, explaining my thoughts. “Really, I’d love to have you around.”

“I don’t know… Are you sure?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Positive,” I said firmly.

“Okay, roomie… You got it!” She shook my hand energetically, simultaneously shaking her breasts at me. My eyes followed, yet again.

Damn, she really did look great, but she was my sister, so I tried to keep my lecherous thoughts in check.

The ‘move’ went flawlessly. My sister had actually packed pretty light, but admitted that she was planning on taking more home with her than she brought.

Ro settled in, I gave her a key, and she did her thing, seeing the sights around the Eternal City. I tagged along on the weekend, as I hadn’t seen much of the city either. She told me that my presence also cut back on the number of unwanted advances she had to deal with.


You’re pretty much caught up, now. It was on our second weekend together that she walked in on Isabella and I, catching us in the act.

It was my fault. Ro had been in bed already, her door closed, and I had been distracted by Isabella’s tits, anxious to get my hands on them. I had not followed our agreed upon procedure, and I’d left the door unlocked.

I grabbed my underwear from wherever they had been thrown by Isabella, tugged them on, and chased after my sister.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Ro was still saying.

“It’s okay, Sis… My fault, my fault,” I said, trying to catch up to her. She was pacing back and forth. I cornered her. “Ro, relax. It was my fault,” I repeated, taking her shoulders in my hands, forcing her to look at me.

She was dressed, but showing a fair bit more cleavage than I’d been presented with before. It took all my strength not to stare at the sexy crease that peeked out of her neckline. She finally smiled, nodded and hugged me.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. She was still nestled in my arms when Tornado Isabella blew into the room, wrapped in a sheet that draped her body like a classical statue of a Michaelangelo goddess

“Chi cazzo sei tu, puttana? Cosa stai facendo qui? Esci! Prendi il cazzo!” Isabella chattered excitedly, gesturing wildly as was the custom in this part of the world. She was focused on Carolyn, venting her anger and embarrassment with gesticulations that had her struggling to keep the sheet she had commandeered as clothing in place. I was kind of enjoying the floor show, even though I wasn’t catching most of her comments. My Italian language skills, non-existent when I had arrived in Rome, had not progressed very far, especially at the pace Isabella was using. She turned her ire on me.

“Chi è questa cagna? Quante donne si sta nascondendo da me, bastardo?!” she spat. I got the last bit of the sentence. ‘Bastardo’ didn’t really need translating.

Carolyn got it too, along with the rest of the babbled insults. I had no idea my sister spoke Italian that well.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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