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Introduction:

Claudia inherits her grandmother's house and all its mysteries.
The ethereal power pursues souls to the sea, the sea spits them up onto the threshold of the earth, the earth into the light of the bright sun and the sun hurls them into the whirling ether.

- Empedocles of Akragas (5th Century BCE)



The first thing that you noticed about Claudia was that she was beautiful. Hers was a refined, sophisticated beauty and at its heart lay, an innate earthiness and a rugged independence that surely came from her Sicilian ancestry. Her dark brown eyes and long, flowing black hair shone in the clear morning light. A smile played upon her full lips, lips that were tinted deep red, almost verging on black; like a sweet, ripe mulberry. She turned as the short, balding man before her wiped his forehead with a handkerchief then looked back at the wonderful summer scene before her. It was a bountiful, verdant scene as only the Mediterranean could paint it.

“It’s just so beautiful here, and all this is mine? I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, seniorina, as I said before, your grandmother left this house and all its land to you. You were her only living relative I believe.”

Claudia looked deeply into the man’s eyes. She was not mistrustful by nature but recent events had made her doubt that one person could have so much luck so quickly and so unexpectedly without some catch.

“I will bring the paperwork here tomorrow. You just have to sign a few documents. The deeds to the house will be amongst your nona’s papers but now I will leave you to get settled in. You have my mobile number. Please call my office if you need anything. My secretary Angelina is always there.”

He smiled officiously and wiped his glistening forehead again; replacing a battered panama hat and bowing before her reverentially; as though she was visiting royalty.

“Thank you Signor Agostinelli, grazi mille.”

She waved as Agostinelli got into his old green Fiat and drove slowly back up the gravel driveway to disappear between the tall stone pillars of the gate. When he was gone she turned to look behind her at the house; the house that was now hers.

It was an elegant; white, two storey, stone building dating, so Agostinelli had informed her, to the 1880s. In its architecture could be seen subtle Moorish, Venetian, Medieval and Classical influences which blended to create a visually pleasing and exotic whole. The house was perched upon a rocky cliff before a small bay that enclosed water of a jewel-like clarity. The cliff was not precipitously high but lofty enough to afford a magnificent view and allow a stone stairway to be cut leading down to a tiny pebbled beach. As Claudia stood before the very edge of the cliff later that day; she felt as though she could hold the entire bay in the palm of her hand like a precious keepsake; as indeed it was. If the bay had a name, it was unknown to her but a mere five kilometers north-; west along the coast lay the city of Agrigento or Girgenti; as it was still pronounced in the local Sicilian dialect, despite official efforts since the time of Mussolini to Italianize the name. Agrigento; the ancient Greek Akragas, was far older than Il Duce, far older indeed than Rome. She had heard of its decadent charm, its nightlife and its wealth of archaeological wonders. But all these would have to wait; the house of Claudia’s grandmother Eleanora was of itself, an entire world awaiting discovery.

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It is true of all new dwellings that they seem cold and strange until eventually; one becomes accustomed to them and to the particular personality that they exude. Thus it was that for several days, Claudia felt like an intruder in her new home. The house was still full of her grandmother’s possessions. These were few admittedly but each seemed an integral part of the person who had been Eleanora Incarnata. Apart from the furniture and several paintings there was an extensive collection of African tribal masks and figures. Some of these Claudia found striking and beautiful and they appealed to her love of the exotic and the strange; others she found a little too alien and disturbing. These she carefully packed away, intending to store them in the cellar.
Most of her grandmother’s private papers were in Italian and seemed of little consequence, but upon finding the deeds to the house she discovered that it had a name; Tintamare

“Ah, Sea Colours…”

She pronounced it aloud several times then in a flourish of spontaneous theatricality declared,

“Io sono la padrona di Tintamare!” - I am the mistress of Tintamare.

She laughed; her pronunciation was still woeful and had quickly elicited stares when she had gone shopping in Agrigento. She tried several phrases aloud;

“Io sono la padrona di casa.”

“Io sono una donna del tempo libero. - I am a lady of leisure.

“Goodness that sounds so smug.”

“Io sono un brunette.”

“Io sono una gentildonna.”

Then, as though it was an amplified echo of her own voice, in her mind she heard the phrase;

“Vi sono una bella donna.” - You are a beautiful woman.

Startled, she spun around instinctively but of course, she was alone, without even the sea breeze for company. The house was silent and even the raucous cicadas seemed to be dosing for once in the languorous heat of noon. She reproached herself for being jumpy.

“Time for lunch.”


In the weeks that followed she thoroughly explored the house; attempting to experience it’s every mood and nuance, sometimes staying up till dawn to catch the play of light as the sun rose over the bay and entered through the tall upper storey windows. The sun’s rays lit the rooms well and filled them with an exultant joy that she had seldom felt in other houses. At night she listened to the house’s nocturnal sounds and drank in its deep brooding shadows. Several features of the house particularly delighted her; it had beautiful mosaic floors throughout, made of intricately inlaid marble in many hues. To Claudia’s way of thinking these reflected the vibrant colours of the Mediterranean and each room was an island in that timeless sea. There were several bedrooms and a spacious, well equipped rustic kitchen. Dotted around the entire house, along with the African art, were pieces of Eleanora’s collection of Bitossi ceramics. Stylish designs, hand made with intense colours, these artifacts from the 1970s instantly won for themselves a place in Claudia’s esteem.

At the top of the spiral stair, a long corridor led to the master bedroom then to a semi-circular space which Claudia estimated took up half of the top storey. Here was her grandmother’s conservatory; her music room. She imagined her grandmother entertaining a few select friends here in former days but she also felt that maybe her music might have been a form of private relaxation.

On one, otherwise blank, wall hung a square canvas in a heavy ornate frame. It was a beautiful painting of her grandmother by an unknown hand. Her own likeness to Eleanora was remarkable and had always been commented upon by her family but here there seemed to be a deep sadness in the eyes of the paining that Claudia could not fathom. The strangest thing about the painting though was that it was not signed. How odd, she thought, that after having taken such care to produce a perfect likeness of Eleanora as she had been in her youth, the artist should then omit to sign his work. It was as though the portrait was a trifle, a token of affection and of no real or lasting consequence. On the first night in the house she had taken the painting down with considerable difficulty and looked on the back of it for any sign of a signature, monogram or device, but there was nothing. On the frame, a panel of gilt wood had been inserted and upon it where inscribed the enigmatic lines;

This is her picture as she was:
It seems a thing to wonder on,
As though mine image in the glass
Should tarry when myself am gone.

Below the lines was the name Rossetti. Dante Gabriel Rossetti; a well known painter and poet of the English Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, but what was their significance to this picture? This was yet another of the questions for which she felt a growing need to find an answer.

In an alcove along one wall at the other side of the room were shelves crammed with sheet music. This was mostly printed and bound but some of it was in manuscript and seemingly of considerable age. When Agostinelli had first taken her on a tour of the house, Claudia had made a mental note to sort the music and bring order to it. One of the few things she knew about Eleanora was that music was important to her, and while Claudia was not at all musically skilled herself, she did love music and admired those who could perform it.
The focal point of the conservatory was Eleanora’s large and beautiful double manual harpsichord, her cembalo antico. It was clearly an antique with a Baroque or Neo-Classical air about its subtly carved ornamentation. Upon the inside of the lid was a painted scene of swimming dolphins with a muscular male figure riding one of them. The scene was crowned by a Latin motto in capitals of muted gold:

MUSICA DULCE LABORUM LEVAMEN.

That the instrument was valuable there was no doubt; Agostinelli had pointed it out reverentially to her and informed her that it was insured separately, without mentioning for how much. She Googled the motto and found that it meant: the solace of our labours is sweet music.

“I wish I had got to know you better,” she whispered with a tear in her eye as she gently pressed some of the keys on the two keyboards; producing a succession of high notes as the strings within were plucked. As the notes died away, she became conscious of a presence in the room behind her and turned instinctively. Then she felt the merest hint of warm breath on her shoulder and spun around to see the curtains stir in the sea breeze. She sighed with relief; she had never lived by the sea before and she was still far from familiar with the ways of the house.

“Silly me, jumpy, edgy and wistful. Timtamare ti amo,”


*****************************************


Like Arion on the dolphin’s back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves…

- Shakespeare, Twelfth Night.

Claudia slowly and sensually licked her top lip as she looked into Carlo’s eyes. Her face was set and serious. There was an unsettling intensity in her dark eyes that did much to undermine the confidence of her conquest; for such he was. True, he had tried hard to win her attention; asking her to dance, buying her margaritas and her favourite Cointreau on ice. He had respected her initial reticence without giving up; letting an hour pass before approaching her again and turning on the charm. She found his restraint admirable and chose, in the end, to reward his patient persistence. He had flattered her too; calling her deliziosa, bellissima, squisita and using a string of other Sicilian adjectives that she hardly understood. She had laughed at these superlatives while finding his attention increasingly welcome. When they left the Bar Empedocle in Agrigento, several heads turned and several pairs of envious eyes; both male and female, followed them out.

She stared at him coolly now, like a lioness appraising her kill. Carlo was dark with long, curly boyish locks and a dimpled chin, stubbled cheeks and a delicate throat that reminded her of some work or other of Michelangelo’s. He could speak about as much English as she could speak Italian. But as they lay nude amongst her huge white pillows with the open window behind them and, beyond that, the boundless moonlit sea, the need for verbal communication became increasingly slight. She moved closer to him and moistened her lips again. From his perspective, her eyes were luminous, otherworldly orbs that belonged more to the jewel encrusted sky than to any mortal woman. So disturbing was her beauty that for an instant his mind raced, attempting to find some sinister motive in her, something to show that her intentions were other than what they seemed. But he let himself fall victim to this feeling only for an instant; she was exquisite, a rare and affecting beauty, the type of woman in whose presence caution receded into abstraction and logic lost its ascendancy.

Claudia now ran her eyes down Carlo’s body. He was younger than she, fit but not athletic, tanned but not through toil. A beach lover then, quite obviously; she liked that, and, best of all, he was her treat, her plaything. His muscles now flexed as he moved lithely towards her and reached up to brush her hair aside. He wore a delicious cologne whose aroma made her mouth water as their lips locked. Soon their mouths tingled with tender luxuries of sensation that both of them keenly savoured. In the course of the next hour, Claudia nibbled Carlo’s lips and kissed his stubbled chin. Her tongue explored his sweet mouth, making him sigh and afterwards produce several barely audible invocations of the Madonna mia.

“He’s a good Catholic boy,” she thought, “I’ll give him something to take to the confessional.”

But Carlo did not consider himself a good Catholic boy; neither was he the passive participant. Now, as passion seized him, he kissed her with ever growing intensity; gently crushing her lips with his own and holding her head in his broad hands to slake his thirst at her mouth. She thoroughly enjoyed letting him take charge but it was her prerogative to initiate change and move on to the next course.

She raked his chest with her nails, her hand slowly traveling down to his abs and thighs; tickling each in turn until she felt him shiver. Until now she had pretended to ignore his cock. It was long and tapering with a loose fore skin; just the way she liked it. She always compared teasing back the foreskin to peeling a lusciously ripe fruit. What is more, he was already hard. He had rapidly become hard early on, as they were kissing. This had pleased her but she had concentrated her attention on his kisses, ignoring all else. Here now was her chance to surprise him. She grabbed the base of his shaft; cupping his balls with her palm. She squeezed him and pumped with conviction; making him sigh and tense so that his cock grew harder and harder. Now, with her lips, she pulled back his foreskin, revealing a plump, pink head. Soon Carlo was swaying his hips rhythmically; gently thrusting his cock into Claudia’s mouth as she bore down on his shaft with growing relish. The skin of his cock rubbed against the inside of her cheeks and over the top of her tongue, across the roof of her mouth to the threshold of her throat.

Claudia had long ago trained herself not to gag. So now, with a long, intense glance into Carlo’s dark eyes, she swallowed as much of him as there was; “Mingia!” was his only reply. She smiled at this mild obscenity; taking it as a compliment and got down to the serious business of making him as hard as possible. The whole time she could feel the inner depths of her pussy moistening and her juices gathering. They flowed with each bob of her head and with each passionate breath she took. With one hand she parted her lips and rubbed her sensitive nub .After a few minutes Carlo noticed this and gently pulled her hand away. He drew her towards him slowly and Claudia readily complied; positioning herself over his mouth. Now with her breasts pressing down on his abdominals, she took up a handful of cock and slid it deep into her warm mouth. She felt his strong hands massaging her ass and parting her pussy lips to plunge his tongue deeper into her velvet folds. Claudia shut her eyes and bit her lips as wave after wave of pleasure passed through her flesh. Carlo ran his hand down the inside of her thighs; finding them faultless and smooth.

“Dea incomparabile,” he whispered.

“I’ve made him a pagan,” Claudia thought and she began to lick and suck furiously; eliciting further outbursts of “Madonna mia” from Carlo.

Now her long hair tickled his balls and brushed wildly against his thighs. She was pleased that he had a very masculine covering of hair on his chest and legs – casually running her fingers through the open buttons of his shirt had been one of the first steps in seducing him.
As her mouth moved faster and faster over his rigid shaft, she felt big drops of saliva on his skin.

“I’m drooling.” She thought.

Boys had made her drool before and now with Carlo’s firm flesh between her lips, her past lovers flitted through her mind. Some lingered there far, longer than others. Joshua appeared in her mind’s eye; with his ready smile, golden tan and blonde curls. She remembered him surfing and purred, grinding her pussy harder against Carlo’s mouth. She tasted his pre-come and lapped it up greedily, imagining for a moment that it was Joshua’s cock that she was once again enjoying. “Hey surfer dude…” The phrase echoed in her mind like the last fragment of a previous life or the last sunbeam of a lost summer.

Joshua’s cock had been a marvel; no other could match it or him for that matter; a beautiful cock on a beautiful man. He gradually and reluctantly faded from her imagination as she felt waves of pleasure wash over her body. Carlo had found her clit early on and now, with practiced ease, he brought all of his skills to the task of teasing and licking it. Claudia sighed and clenched her teeth; she moaned and felt her mouth tingle and her flesh pulse. Several minutes more and she slowly let Carlo’s shaft slide from her lips. She was surprised at how incredibly wet his cock now was and how much of her own juices had moistened her pussy.

“Hmmm, let’s put all this juice to use Carlo.”

He smiled quizzically.

“Fuck me.”

She jumped onto her back and placed her hands on her knees with fingers splayed. Slowly she slid her hands down the inside of her thighs; rubbing them sensuously. When she reached her pussy, she spread her labia teasingly and arched her back. Carlo shook his head in amazement. He needed no further encouragement.
With one swift motion, he plunged his glistening cock deep into her. She gasped, admiring his confidence and thrilling at the sheer sensation of him inside her. Now Carlo propped himself up over her, “Considerate guy,” she thought, as she ran her hands luxuriously down his muscular sides, then to his hips and finally to his sculpted ass.

As he started to fuck her she held onto his buttocks. This was by far her favourite part of a man’s body. Carlo’s ass made a nicely compact package in the middle of his fine figure. It had certainly caught her attention soon after they had first met.
She continued rubbing his skin and pulled him close as he thrust into her with growing abandon. She tickled the sensitive place where his ass cheeks met and ran her fingers down his crack. He answered her with harder and harder thrusts while she dug her nails lightly into him and spread his ass cheeks to increase the pressure on her already steaming pussy. He licked her neck and kissed the side of her face while his hips delivered thrust after delightful thrust; aimed perfectly. She found herself reeling after every one, sighing and delirious with pleasure.

After several minutes of this, Carlo paused. He looked into Claudia’s eyes; seemingly disbelieving his own luck. She smiled at him reassuringly and ran her fingers through his curls. Soon passion seized him again and he grit his teeth; fucking her furiously for several minutes more. This she loved; it showed her that he was not afraid to let himself go, that he did not deny his passion and his lust. He gripped her hips then placed an arm above her shoulder. She responded by crossing her legs on the small of his back and pressing him close. Now he groaned as he thrust his adamantine shaft deep into her pussy. Despite the intense wetness he felt like a mechanical piston inside her. He breathed hard and as he glanced at her; his lust filled eyes were the very epitome of desire. But she saw this for only for a moment. For now Carlo’s eyes rolled back until she could see only white and his entire body tensed. She caressed his hips and felt his muscles flex. He came; sending shot after shot of warm, wet come deep into her nether folds. She felt every spurt; each was like a warm wave on the sea washing exquisitely over her.

She had enjoyed the scent of Carlo’s delicious cologne the entire time; now, its aroma mingled sweetly with the heady bouquet of their lovemaking. But there was also a subtler fragrance in the room; the smell of the sea and this was an old love of hers. It pervaded the house and over the years it had permeated the very fabric of the old building.

“I am a daughter of the tides,” she mused, “As Eleanora must have been.”

Carlo collapsed on his back beside her; looking totally spent, sated and deliriously happy. His still rigid cock stood at an aesthetic sixty degree angle looking far wetter from their combined juices than she ever thought possible. She reached out and rubbed it, then coyly touched her hand with her tongue.

“Mmmmm, dolce!”

He laughed. Then his expression changed as her eyes caught the candlelight; giving her already awesome beauty an added witchery. He was struck once again by how beautiful she was.

“Bellissima,” was all he could whisper.

Claudia for her part knew full well that she was beautiful and she was not above occasionally using it to her advantage. Not to do so would have been like the rose hiding her bloom or the sun denying the world his light,

“Or the viper not utilizing its venom,” she thought.

Carlo’s face loomed over her now, banishing dark thoughts. He stroked her hair and ran the back of his hand gently down her cheek. His tenderness won her immediately.

“Bessa me.”

He kissed her lightly at first; as though showing her how thankful and appreciative he was that she should have chosen him for a lover. His mouth was still sweet with her juices and his tongue reminded her of a richly ripe strawberry. Soon their mouths tingled with delicious sensation and their chins were wet with passion. Claudia bit Carlo’s lips and sucked his tongue. She explored his mouth and bit his neck and throat. He nibbled her earlobes and kissed the sensitive zones down the sides of her face and he kissed her deeply; plunging his tongue deep into her mouth. Slowly but surely, through long minutes of this play, she felt his cock harden by her thigh.

Now Claudia strode over to her portable sound system and turned it on. In the CD player was a disc of Indian classical music – sarangi and tabla pieces played by that great master of the sarangi, the incomparable Ustad Sabri Khan. She loved the sheer inventiveness and primal energy of Hindustani music; it was like listening to the very forces of nature; to the creative power of the universe. She looked at Carlo and beckoned to him. He approached and she immediately fell to her knees before his cock. Taking her cue from the beat of the tabla she set to work on his shaft. Her head bobbed rapidly as she savoured every inch of Carlo. His hair tickled her nose on occasion, as she tried to get more and more of him into her mouth. Her lips maintained as much suction as she could muster and she gripped his thighs with her nails. If Carlo was in any pain it was more than counteracted by the pleasure he now felt.

After several intense moments she slowed, following a change in the rhythm of the music. Now she turned her attention to the head of Carlo’s cock and found it like a summer nectarine whose flesh is so sweet one wants to keep it in ones mouth for an hour before swallowing it. Yet by now, she could feel Carlo’s muscles tensing and his thighs flexing. Claudia had long been attuned to the signs of arousal in a man’s body. She stopped and stood up; leaning up against the wall and spreading her legs. Carlo stepped up to her and she slid down onto his manhood easily. She gripped his shoulders and in unison they bucked up and down; she feeling the engorged cock that had been in her mouth a matter moments ago plowing through the tender folds of her pussy; he savouring the incredibly sensual grip and warmth of her pussy. After several long minutes of this she wrapped one leg around Carlo’s ass and lower back and he responded by gripping her ass cheeks to support her. Up against the wall they fucked, moaned and sighed for many more long, delirious minutes; kissing, biting, licking each others lips and attaining that mystical union; that primordial state of oneness that only comes through sexual abandon .

Claudia imagined that they were acting out a sloka from the Kama Sutra as the music reached a thunderous crescendo; filling the room with indescribable emotion. Now she gripped Carlo’s neck firmly with both arms and he held her up by the ass cheeks so that her head was above his. Claudia’s feet left the ground and her thighs nestled snugly upon Carlo’s hips. He lifted her higher as she bucked up and down on his cock like the rider of an untamable steed. A sense of total abandon filled her along with the feeling of almost weightlessness that she loved. Carlo was her Atlas and she the shining sky upon his shoulders. Soon after this thought had passed, she came; letting out a howl and rolling her eyes back as far as nature would allow. Carlo did not miss a beat but kept her in place upon his rod with her feet off the ground until the rolling waves of pleasure in her body had at last subsided.

She led him back to the bed and they both lay down. His cock had lost none of its rigidity and he wasted no time in plunging it back into her velvet depths. Claudia purred; she tightened her pussy muscles around Carlo’s shaft and settled back upon the pillows. Fingers twirled her long hair as she relaxed allowing Carlo to thrust into her with joyous abandon. Soon he built up speed and his breathing quickened until; gripping her sides and bringing all his strength to bear upon her pussy. He came, shooting streams of come into her. His breathing audible, he lay down beside her as she wiped beads of sweat from his brow.

A tranquil hour passed during which they lay together; she enjoying the scents of the night and he luxuriating in the tenderness of her skin and the warmth of her body. It was like a tonic to him; soothing him to sleep. Claudia too shut her eyes, imagining the cool caress of the waves upon her flesh.

When she awoke abruptly it was to see a wide-eyed Carlo staring at her in the lamplight.

He looked frightened.

“I get up to go pee. I hear musica…piano. Piano antico.

“Cembalo.”

“Ah si, la cembalo.”

“Musica, certo?”

“Si, certo.”

Claudia smiled and after thinking a moment, told him he must have been dreaming.

“No, I hear it loud.”

Claudia ran her fingers through his hair then swung her legs onto the cool floor. Her insides still felt pleasantly sore and she did her best to walk elegantly. She stepped out into the corridor and padded into the conservatory. She then realized that Carlo was following close behind her.

“Venus and Adonis into the fray.”

“Permesso?”

“Venere e Adone…oh never mind.”

Carlo looked at her doubtfully. She could hear him breathing hard as they entered the conservatory. The room was dark as thick cloud had obscured the bright full moon of earlier that night. Claudia paused and looked around briefly. Then, unseen by Carlo, she took something from the shelf by the door, flicked the light switch on and quickly turned to face the room. Needless to say, the sudden sight of a beautiful, nude woman carrying a bayonet was enough to fill him with trepidation. She walked around, scanning the room slowly and holding the bayonet at half arms length. Once she was satisfied that there was no one else there, her attention turned to Carlo. She fought her innate inclination to show off. The bayonet was a deadly weapon – thirty five centimeters of cold steel with a double cutting edge, so it was best to show some prudent respect for it. Besides, she didn’t want to scare Carlo away; they had only just met after all. She smiled reassuringly at him. As she did so, she slipped the weapon back into the gap in the shelf between two books where she had originally found it weeks ago.

She looked into his eyes, telling him that he must indeed have been dreaming; no one had been playing the harpsichord. She ran her hand down his chest to his cock. Taking hold of it, she led him back to the bed. They had slept for over an hour and now Claudia was ready to fuck once more. She yawned then glanced at Carlo slyly and drew his face down to her lips. He kissed her fervently and his eagerness to please immediately excited her. She reached down and massaged his balls. They were loose and heavy; swinging like ripe apples below his now rapidly hardening shaft. Claudia ignored it for the moment, focusing her attention on the pendulous fruit of Carlo’s manhood. She teased them and rubbed the sensitive sides of his sack; raking it lightly with her nails until it had fully tightened. After several minutes, Carlo’s arousal was visibly growing. With one hand she now squeezed the base of his cock while continuing to stimulate the sensitive areas around his sack. She gradually moved her hand back behind his balls and rubbed the sensitive skin there. She glanced up at him and when she saw that he was clearly enjoying her attentions, she slipped her hand up onto his shaft.

Now his cock grew rapidly in her hand. She grit her teeth and pumped it harder; keeping her mouth close but wanting to watch her own work take effect. After several minutes Carlo’s cock has achieved a satisfying sixty degree angle and Claudia looked up to see him looking transcendentally calm and ready for anything. She licked her lips teasingly and led him to the couch by the windows. The sea below was beautifully calm and a full moon, visible again after the breeze had banished the clouds, made a perfect night-time tableau. Claudia was struck, as always, by the loveliness of it. In her mind she chanted the word that summed it all up, her one word sutra – Tintamare.

“Carlo, I want to drink your come; I want it to run down my throat. I want you to explode in my mouth.”

He smiled and nodded his head like a man in a trance. There was no telling quite what Claudia had in store for him. From a green silk bag on the window sill she now produced a shiny black dildo. Carlo grinned and shook his head; indicating that she had again surprised him. He adjusted his posture as she sat next to him with her feet on couch. Carlo’s gaze traveled down her long legs to her mound where the merest brushstroke of black pointed to the glories below. From there, his eyes rested on the cleft of her pussy; enjoying its form as one would enjoy a fine work of art.

Claudia gazed at him seductively. He answered her with a look of such longing that it melted her heart. Without further hesitation, she put the tip of the dildo between her lips, rolled it around, then ran her tongue up and down its length. Carlo watched her with growing fascination. After wetting it thoroughly, she drew it from her mouth and sensuously rubbed it across her chin, then down her throat and chest to the space between her breasts. Carlo followed the wet line back up to her mouth with his finger. She bit him playfully then turned the dildo on and gave it to him. With three fingers she spread her pussy lips. Carlo saw her glistening slit and sighed. He rubbed her labia with the tip of the dildo then slowly traced circles around her clit with it. Every now and again he left her clit to wet the instrument with juice from her slit. But he would always return to her clit and renew his efforts there. Claudia enjoyed this immensely; rocking back and forth; and grinding her pussy up against the dildo as Carlo held it. She moaned and sighed as tingles of intense pleasure raced up and down her spine. She gripped Carlo’s shoulders too; digging her nails into him as pleasure raced through every fibre of her being. Carlo was happy to play with her pussy for as long as she liked; teasing her glistening velvet folds and exploring her every secret place in order to bring her pleasure.

But eventually Claudia made him stop. She took the dildo from him and began to rub it up and down his shaft, then to the sides of his sack and eventually to the sensitive area behind his balls. His cock began to harden again almost immediately and with her free hand she pumped it hard. The combination of her hand and the dildo obviously worked for Carlo. He was soon arching his back and rubbing her shoulders. Claudia was pleased with her handiwork thus far but she had one or two more plans for Carlo. She now slid the head of Carlo’s cock between her lips. Her mouth immediately began to water as she licked and tickled him with her tongue. It was now time for the real treat. She slowly drew the dildo lower and lower until she reached the verge of Carlo’s ass. She met with no resistance and concentrated for a while on the convergence of his ass cheeks. She then looked up at him; smiling wickedly,

“Salve bella dea,” was all he said.

Still looking at him she parted his ass cheeks gently and slipped the dildo in. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and arched his back slightly. Claudia returned his cock to her mouth, this time licking his whole thick shaft from tip to base as she pressed the wildly vibrating dildo up against his ass hole. She traced little circles around his pink hole and slipped the tip of the dildo past the threshold to the sensitive areas just beyond. Now his cock grew more and more rigid as she brought her mouth to bear down upon it; drooling with the sheer lusty pleasure of having it deep in her mouth while she tickled Carlo’s ass with the dildo. Now Carlo moaned and arched his back harder. His hands gripped the back of her head and massaged her shoulders. He let out a stream of profanities that she could barely understand and all the while his cock grew harder and harder until it curved upwards into Claudia’s throat like a steel cable. Now she pushed the dildo deeper into Carlo’s ass, pressing it up at the same time. She concentrated the action of her mouth on the head of his cock and soon Carlo came. His back arched three times and he groaned; spilling and spurting his DNA into Claudia’s ravenously hungry mouth. Having made him come twice already that night, Claudia was surprised at how much thick juice there still was. She swallowed it all and lapped up every drop, eventually drawing the dildo from his ass too. It had served her well.

Exhausted and sated; they soon fell asleep in each others arms. Although he was a light sleeper, Carlo awoke only once; when he heard, or thought he heard, the eerie sound of the harpsichord in the dead of night.


Part II of Claudia Incarnata coming soon…
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