Italian Women's Erotic Sins, Volume I. Giovanna Esse
her. Their legs, hidden under the blanket, would begin rubbing together and the mere sound of the textile would excite them. Dawn never lacked the right excuse: for fun or for fear, any pretext was good to squeeze against the Iron Fairy. Then, especially if protected by the woolen blanket, the thin finger would begin rummaging. The girl would hug the woman in seek of protection and would explore all her roundness, all her curves. She wondered on the cotton shirt, sometimes getting lost among the roses on the black background, or picking daisies on the violet nightgown. The more the fairy would keep quiet, the more the hands gained confidence.
When she began she would want to stroke with delicacy, faking little interest: distracted, occasional caresses, as if born spontaneously with no ends. But then the excitement would increase, the movements would become increasingly raw, convulsed, disconnected. Those hands literally âpossessedâ the body of the large fairy.
Dawn would touch her abundant hips and then would crawl like a snake to her soft and generous belly, suddenly slipping under the cotton to caress her groin. Then she would return upwards, find her tits and pull, squeeze, play with her large breasts. The nipples would reveal themselves at her touch bloated and hard under the material, pressed under the matronal bra.
Then the fingers would explore the neck, the head, dangle on the earlobes⦠and the fairy would slowly die of languish. The heart would go crazy and small drops would shine on the forehead.
The blanket was Albaâs accomplice.
The girl would start complaining of being hot and, underneath the quilt would slip her skirt from her gazelle legs, staying only in panties and socks. The bare flesh would now again seek the contact, move the cotton, slip the silk and find, finally the otherâs skin. When the skin met, it was a joy for both. The desire was as great as it was suffered and prohibited. The fake silence of the fairy, that impossible indifference of hers, make the young girl shudder: instantly, she feared of being discovered that consequently banned, shooed. She knew she was taking advantage of all the Iron Fairyâs enchantments, but she couldnât help it. She had to drink from that forbidden fountain.
Every evening, returning home, she would promise herself to resist that thirst but the next afternoon the good intentions would fall and she would dive back on the surrendered, soft, maternal body.
6
Getting lost, to after seek for each other more than before. (Reality)
The afternoon was cold, though spring had already arrived.
Nicòle arrived with rosy cheeks and knees, her little nose was frozen. Her slender figure emerged superb, between the play of light of the doorâs glass. Flora was dazzled, once again, by her grace. She had been missing for a week and she had realized how much she loved her already.
Master of the world, Nicòle took off her coat and white scarf. Then, she took off her cotton cap, letting her golden hair scroll down her shoulders. She flooded the house of smiles and words without importance.
"No school tomorrow, no homework today!" She established, domineering, that it was the suitable afternoon to watch "Doctor Zhivago". Flora wanted to cry, but did not, nor did she oppose the request. She had been waiting too long for her to not fulfill the wishes of her small "tyrant". She began feeling butterflies in her stomach, while her mind relished the caresses she longed. Their hands would dance with their fingers, intertwining and repelling each-other, like dancers on a stage. She could not curb her desire, nor to put a real brake to that girl.
But they had been stalled for too long: she could not continue like this. Flora decided to take the plunge and play her cards:
"Go pee then, otherwise you wonât want to get up later" she smiled. "Meanwhile, I'm going to prepare tea."
"Yes, Sir!" Teased Nicòle.
While Flora was fumbling in the kitchen, the young woman lingering in the bathroom shouted:
"I have a surprise, you want to see?"
"Oh, ohhh!" Relaunched Flora, "your surprises do not promise anything good to my fate..."
"But yes, look at me!" She came out of the bathroom, putting herself on display. She was wearing only the thick ribbed sweater. Below, instead of socks, she wore blacks and sheer tights. Flora lurched, despite the girl held her thighs clenched, it was obvious she was not wearing panties: a mop of fair and delicate hair, cleared the socks, right over her virginal groin.
"And look now," Nicòle said with her smile of youthful impertinence. She parted her feet, spreading her legs. She had ripped her tights roughly with her fingers, just between the legs, so the stockings worked as a frame for that stunning spectacle.
"It is my invention! Do you like it? " She did not wait for an answer; she knew, anyway, that it would not come. Floraâs mouth was wide open in amazement, she could not utter a single word.
"They keep me warmer, I'll be very comfortable. And without panties, I can pee easily." She looked up and stared at Flora with swagger, the doe eyes defied her without shame. Flora managed to distract her attention from the spectacle. With longstanding breath, she pretended to mumble something about youth, turning to hide the redness of her cheeks. She dedicated herself tenaciously to filtering tea. Still boiling hot, she poured it in the favorite cups. Then, without a word, she retired upstairs to the bedroom.
Nicòle had already settled on the couch, as cozy as an alcove. She had dared, but in her heart she hoped not to have gone too far.
The film had just begun. From the stairs she could spy on Flora on her way into the living room. She had changed clothes: she wore a long shirt, tight over her breasts in a kind of empress style, slightly flared at the bottom, in fact, and closed with buttons. The girl noticed that she wore no socks. "She must be hot" she thought to herself, and took pleasure in the sight.
7
The fairy with no veils. (Fairy Tale)
That afternoon the Iron Fairy had been wearing a light dress with buttons on the front. Silently as always, she sat down next to Alba. After a few minutes, the Princess curled up at her side. She began to savor the voluptuous atmosphere that was creating between them. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh scent on her delicate flesh. She pulled on the couch both legs, bandaged by the pantyhose while abandoning her head on the arm of the fairy. Moments later, her free hand slipped from her thin legs to the deliciously full of ones of the mature woman. Pushing along the light cotton, she felt the easy flow on the bare skin of the thighs. The princess felt one of those thousand shivers that constituted her precocious sexuality.
Curious, with a pounding heart, the transgressive hand made its way to the top; climbed over the belly, delayed on the stretched navel and then up the slight slope that plodded under the generous breasts. She wanted to launch a small cry of victory, but held it back, biting her lips: she had just realized that the woman had also removed her bra. Her breasts, deliciously warm, rested on the bodice of her gown and were only withheld by the buttons. Alba met appetizing dew forming under two big breasts. The urge became violent.
The fairy was silent, as if nothing was happening; with a Sphinx face, she looked without seeing in the direction of the television; her lips enigmatically pursed; not a shred of emotion peeped on her face. Her piercing eyes carefully avoided crossing Albaâs. Yet, for the first time... the fairy, under her clothes was naked, but seemed completely indifferent to the conflicting passions that agitated the young girl.
Alba wanted to keep touching the bare skin but was afraid to seem too insistent. Eventually, she took courage: she had to attempt it. She could not stay forever in insecurity and with her breast on fire. The slender fingers acquired courage and, like artificers that manipulate an unexploded bomb, she freed one after the other the three buttons which clutched the neckline of the Iron Fairy. The breasts overflowed, as an overflowing dam, now devoid of any defense, flaring softly, moving away from one another. In the middle, like a fragrant valley, mild and sweet dew appeared.
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