Departing From Milan
- 2 years ago
- 22
- 0
CarleyChapter 4: Milan free porn video
The Tuesday morning after Carley’s party, I gave her a call.
“I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, I have to go to Houston for ten days. I’m leaving tomorrow. The good news is, my sister Lora and I have family business in Milan and I’d like you to go with us. I’ll pay for everything.
“Milan? Italy? When are you going?”
“Two weeks from this Friday. We’re catching the Air France redeye to Paris and a connecting flight to Milan. We’ll be there through the next Tuesday, and then we’re going to take the bullet train to Venice. It’s one of my favorite towns and Lora’s never seen it. We’ll be there for four days and fly home. Can you get the time off?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing heavy going on at work that I can’t get cleared up by then. I’d love to go!”
“Great! Don’t pack any clothes. Lora and I will be stuck in meetings for two days and you can shop in Milan. They’re supposed to have terrific stores. I’ll give you a wheelbarrow full of Euros and you can go crazy.”
“Are you sure? I love to shop. I could spend a lot of money in a place like Milan.”
“It’s no problem. Family money. We’re selling some property in Milan and we’re making a pretty fair profit. You’ll see when we get there.”
“Okay, I’ll go. Text me the details so I can get my vacation time cleared at work.”
“On the way.”
We hung up. “She’s going with us.”
“Unggg,” mumbled Lora. It was hard for her to talk with my penis in her mouth.
My sister lay on her side on the sofa with her head in my lap, sucking me. I held her head with my left hand and fingered her with my right. Lora loves being finger-fucked while she sucks cock. Everyone has their little sexual proclivities and that’s one of hers.
I stroked her G-spot with two fingers and rubbed her clit with the back of my thumb. We’d done this at least a thousand times and I knew how she liked it. Lora rolled face up on my knees and I bent to kiss her. She moaned into my mouth and shivered. Her pussy humped against my hand as she came.
I sat up and caressed her breasts with my left hand. I smiled and fingered her a little harder.
“One more,” she gasped. “Please, one more!”
“Cum for me,” I said. “I love to watch you cum.”
Lora put her head back and closed her eyes. “Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, fuckfuckfuckfuck, ahhhhh!!”
Lora finished cumming and I pulled my fingers out of her. “That looked pretty good.”
“Good, yeah! You always make me cum so hard when you do that. Should I finish sucking you off?”
“No. Why don’t you sit on my lap and we’ll fuck.”
Lora swung her leg over and sat on my erection. She reached behind her and stroked my sac. We kissed and talked and touched each other.
“That feels good,” I said. “I’m going to cum pretty soon. Do you want to cum again?”
“No, I’m okay. You go ahead.”
“Alright. Here we go. Yeah, that’s good. Ummmm, yeah. Ahhh, that’s so good! Yessss!”
She squeezed me and my cock throbbed, shooting my load into her.
It’s always nice fucking my sister. She’s only 16 months younger than I am and we’d been doing this a long time. We’d practiced oral sex on each other before going down on our friends. As virgins, we’d fucked for the first time in her room at home. We’ve been having sex in one form or another since we were kids. It’s familiar territory for us. We each know exactly what the other wants and enjoys.
I understand that fucking your sister used to be frowned upon. It was even illegal! Not anymore. We don’t talk about it much to other people, but we certainly don’t try to hide it. Why should we? It’s not like we’re going to get married and raise a bunch of six-fingered kids!
Lora climbed off and gave me a kiss. She headed for the shower. “Love you,” she called over her shoulder.” “Mean it!”
Friday afternoon two weeks later, Carley wheeled into my driveway and parked under the portico. I walked out to meet her. She got out of her car and looked around.
“Jesus!” she said. “This is your house?”
I have to admit it’s pretty impressive the first time you see it. It has 9200 square feet with four large master suites and one real master suite that’s twice as big as the others.
“Yeah. Gimme your bag and I’ll show you the inside.”
I carried her bag through the front door.
“Holy Jesus fucking Christ on a hat rack!” Carley was looking up at the 28 foot ceiling of the entry way. She looked at me in amazement. “What the fuck! You didn’t tell me you were rich!”
“You didn’t ask,” I said reasonably. “How do you expect to learn anything if you don’t ask?”
She punched me hard on the arm. “Smartass!”
I showed Carley around. My furniture style is a mix of bamboo, rattan and leather, with framed prints of photos I’ve taken on my travels.
“It must be a pain, keeping this place clean,” she said.
“Not really. I have a cleaning woman who comes in twice a week.”
I’d converted an open area in the middle of the house into a music room. On one wall was a beautifully restored mahogany 1908 Steinway upright piano with my trumpet, flugelhorn and two trombones on stands.
“Do you play the piano?,” she asked. “And those horns?”
“Not really. I have a musician who comes in twice a week,” I joked. That earned me another punch on the arm. The tour ended in my bedroom, which had a deck that looked out over the back yard and the Banana River beyond. When we walked out onto the deck, Lora was sunbathing nude on an air mattress in the pool.
Carley looked at the view and whistled. “That’s one hell of a pool! And is that a tennis court? You have a goddamned tennis court?”
“Yeah. It was there when I moved in. I don’t play much, but some of my friends use it.”
She whistled again. “You didn’t build this place?”
“No, I bought it four years ago. The guy who built it was an investment banker who got caught doing some things the SEC didn’t approve of. The Feds froze most of his money and he had to sell this house.
I got a good deal.”
“Damn!”
Carley pointed to the small flats boat hanging at my dock. “I’m surprised you don’t have a freaking yacht parked back there.”
“No way! I’ve seen too many people buy big boats. They take them out every weekend for a couple of months, then every other weekend, then every few months, then the boat sits at the dock for years. One of my neighbors has a 56 footer that’s been tied up since I moved in. He decorates it for Christmas. I use the little boat for fishing around here. If I want to go out in the ocean, I’ll just charter something.”
“Well yeah, of course,” she said softly. “You just charter something. What the fuck was I thinking, anyway?”
I yelled at Lora to get her ass in gear. She climbed out of the pool and trotted toward the house.
We went back outside and I opened the right-hand garage door. Carley pulled her Honda inside. She got out and looked at the other cars parked in there.
“You have a Ferrari?” she said. “And what’s that thing?”
“It’s a 1967 Toyota Land Cruiser,” I said. “It was made when the Land Cruiser was an actual hard-core off-road vehicle, not a luxury SUV. I think they made them out of war-surplus Japanese tank parts. The damned thing will go anywhere. Of course, it gets eight miles per gallon and has a suspension system like a skateboard. I paid $300 for it and $36,000 to get it restored the way I wanted. It’s terrible on the highway, but fun around town. You wouldn’t believe how much trouble it was to get a modern V6 with a decent A/C unit installed. Getting the A/C ducts installed was a nightmare. The original seats were horrible. I had them replaced with the seats from a Lexus SUV.”
An hour later, the “limo” I’d hired, which was nothing more than a Honda minivan, arrived. We loaded our bags and hit the road for the Orlando airport.
Check-in was boring and routine. We boarded the plane and took our seats.
Carley looked around. “You didn’t say we were flying first class,” she said. “I guess I should have known.”
We had three seats together all the way forward on the port side. Carley wanted the window seat. Lora took the isle and I sat between them. The flight attendant brought us Champaign and took our lunch orders. The plane rolled out and took off. Carley hadn’t flown much and kept her nose against the window. Lora and I were both frequent flyers and paid no attention to what was going on outside. Lora and I talked and sipped our Champaign. By the time we’d reached cruising altitude and lunch arrived, we’d had three glasses each and Carley had a bad case of the giggles.
The flight attendants brought us more wine with the meal. After they removed our trays, I reclined my seat and dozed.
An hour later, I woke up. Carley was reading a thick science-fiction novel. There was nothing but a sea of clouds outside her window. Lora was flipping through channels on the in-flight TV.
“I’m bored,” Carley said. “There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing on TV and I’m tired of reading.”
I kissed her and squeezed her right breast. “We could always fool around. They don’t have anyplace to fuck on the plane unless you want to use one of the bathrooms, but kissing and touching are allowed and long as you don’t disturb the other passengers.”
Lora put the remote down and leaned over. “What are you guys up to?”
“Carley’s bored and I’m horny. We were contemplating a little lightweight sexual activity.”
Lora grinned. “That sounds like fun.” She signaled a flight attendant. “Could we have a privacy curtain, please?”
The female flight attendant clipped one end of a dark red curtain to a hook on the wall in front of us and the other end to a short rod attached to the back of Lora’s seat. Anyone sitting behind us could look between the seats and see what we were doing, but other passengers seated near us couldn’t see a thing.
I folded the arm rests and we all reclined our seats.
“Okay,” said Lora, “everybody get your pants off!”
I spent the next 45 minutes kissing and fingering my seatmates. They each had three orgasms. Lora had a lot of trouble staying quiet. She’s usually very noisy when she cums. We were all laughing by the time she was finished.
Lora sighed. “Well, I’m not bored, that’s for sure.” She looked at Carley. “Want to play a game?”
“Sure, what do you have in mind?”
“It goes like this: We take turns sucking Jack. One minute intervals. Whoever gets him to cum in her mouth wins.”
“Ooooh, that sounds like fun! Who keeps time?”
“Give me a second,” Lora said. She set my TV to Paris time, which displayed a large clock face with a sweep second hand. “We’ll use the time on the TV. When the second hand hits twelve, we switch.”
“Okay,” said Carley. “You start.”
Lora leaned down and took my cock in her mouth. She didn’t move. No lips, no tongue, no sucking, no nothin’.
Carley was watching her closely. She looked at me. “What’s she doing?”
“Not a damn thing,” I answered.
“Lora, you’re supposed to be sucking him. That’s the game. Imitating a dead carp is against the rules!”
Lora spit me out, laughing. She checked the clock and laughed again. “Your turn!”
Carley rolled her eyes and bent down. She paid strict attention to the rules. By the time Lora’s turn came again, I was very hard.
The girls sucked me enthusiastically for eleven minutes. Toward the end of her last minute, Lora really had me going. Just as she pulled her mouth off me, I started to cum. Carley had been watching my face and was ready. The second Lora let go of me, Carley clamped her mouth on me. She sucked hard and cum spurted onto her tongue.
“Ahhh, yes! Ummmm, so good! Ahhh!”
“Hey, no fair!” said Lora. “I’m the one who got him off! I should be the winner!”
“Nope, sorry,” I gasped. “You set the rules. ‘Whoever gets him to cum in her mouth wins.’ That’s what you said. I came in Carley’s mouth. It felt really fucking great, too!”
Carley was trying to laugh and swallow the last of my cum at the same time. I cracked up.
We heard a feminine “Um humm” from the other side of the privacy curtain. Our flight attendant’s smiling face appeared, followed by a hand holding a covered silver serving dish. Her other hand removed the cover with a flourish, revealing three warm damp towels. That’s first class service for you! We used the towels to clean up. I made a mental note to tip this woman before we deplaned.
The rest of the flight was uneventful. The crew served dinner at 8PM Eastern time and they turned down the lights as soon as the trays were collected. We passed on the offered drinks, knowing that booze would interfere with our sleep. We inserted our earplugs, stretched out in our blankets and slept fitfully.
Six hours later, they woke us up and fed us a nice breakfast. When we landed, it was just after 8AM in Paris and just after 2AM in Florida. Our bodies were confused and unhappy. Getting to our connecting flight was dumb luck. The flight attendants guided us to our seats and we fell asleep immediately.
We stumbled off the plane in Milan and stood, dazed, at the luggage carousel until our suitcases came around. As is usual in Italy, clearing customs involved nothing more than getting our passports stamped
by a middle aged gentleman who waved us toward the main terminal.
Inside the terminal, I spotted a young man holding a card with my name on it. He loaded our bags onto a small cart and led us outside. There was a Mercedes S-Class estate car double-parked at the curb with the motor running. The young guy put our bags in the back, I tipped him, we climbed into the car and the driver took off for the hotel.
I wasn’t surprised to see our driver talking on one cell phone while texting on another, shifting gears and weaving rapidly through the crazy midday Milan traffic. He managed to keep one hand on the steering wheel most of the time.
Two miles from the airport, I tapped Carley’s shoulder and pointed out her window. “That’s the place.”
“What place?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the place we’re selling.”
“You mean that castle? Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. It was built in the early 16th century by one of the Medici families. They had more money than they knew what to do with, so each family was constantly trying to one-up all the others. You’ll see what I
mean when we go through the Doges’ Palace in Venice. Anyway, it was a half-ass museum for a long time, but by the 1980s it was getting pretty run down. My parents and an Italian partner bought it when I was a little kid, with my parents kicking in two-thirds of the purchase price. They renovated it and turned it into luxury condos for the super-rich. The condos are unbelievable. Most of the original artwork, frescos and the incredible ceilings were retained and restored. There’s more gold leaf in there than you’d believe.”
Carley looked at me with her mouth open. She didn’t say anything.
Lora was snoring softly when we pulled up in front of the hotel. A bellman took our luggage and we went directly to our room.
I tipped the bellman 10 Euro and he left. Carley was walking around. “Shit,” she said. “I could get used to this.”
The room was a “triple suite” with a large sitting room and two bedrooms, each containing a King bed. The bathroom was enormous for a European hotel. It had a shower-slash-tub that was actually big enough
for two adult humans. There was even a separate tub with Jacuzzi jets.
“I’ve stayed here before,” I told Carley. “Actually, I’ve stayed in this room before. It’s very comfortable and quiet.”
We all felt like warmed-over shit. Carley tried watching an Italian game show, but she didn’t speak Italian, not that it would have made much difference. A bunch of elderly women who might have been able to sing and dance forty years ago performed truly awful routines and were rated by the audience. I connected my laptop to the hotel’s wi-fi, checked my e-mail and surfed my favorite forums. Lora sat on the balcony, looking out over the city and nodding off.
I ordered dinner from room service and we were all in bed by 9:30PM.
I woke up between the girls. It was light outside. It took me a while to process that fact and check my watch. My watch said 8:12. I tried to remember if I’d set it to local time. I had. Hummm.
I had to pee. I carefully slid out from under the covers and climbed over Carley. She opened her eyes just as my dick was passing over her face.
“Oh, shit no! Get that thing away from me, you psychopath! What the fuck time is it, anyway?”
“Quarter after eight,” I whispered. “We slept eleven hours.”
“Can’t be! It feels like the middle of the night!”
“It is. It’s 2:15 in the morning at home. You’re jetlagged. You’re going to feel shitty today. Tomorrow will be much better, you’ll see.”
I took a piss and got into the shower. Carley came into the bathroom and sat on the toilet.
“Ordinarily, I’d get in there with you, but I don’t think I could concentrate long enough to do anything interesting.”
Carley was still sitting on the pot when I got out. She got into the shower and stood there with water running over her head while I shaved.
Lora was slumped on the side of the bed when I came out of the bathroom.
“Oooh, crap,” she moaned. “I forgot how much I hate jetlag. I feel like I’m looking at the world through four feet of wet cotton.”
Eventually, we were all showered and dressed. We got some brunch in the hotel dining room and I got the keys to my Golf GTI rental car from the concierge. I showed Carley some of the more interesting sights in Milan, concentrating on the best shopping areas. Her enthusiasm was somewhat muted by jetlag. Lora sat in the back seat and made no comment. I took time to make a stop at a bank where I had an account.
We had a nice dinner, listened to some street musicians and wandered around. Sleep was strongly indicated, so we headed back to the room.
Kaidence
- 17.12.2021
- 36
- 0
