February 2021 (continued)
Hot Spirits Erupt In Old Pompeii (continued)
Adam & Eve newsletter reader Nigel sent in a story he had experienced many summers ago in Italy. Can ancient ruins take hold of your personality for sexual pleasures -- if only temporarily? -- The Editors
Marla and I had been traveling with her dance company for about three weeks when we finally made a break for it and went off to have some time to ourselves. We chose historic Pompeii.
The drive from Sorrento was not long, we used the opportunity of being alone together in our little red rented Fiat 500 to best advantage: to get a head start on the day's activities. As I drove, Marla fished my dick out of my shorts and began to work on me.
As I desperately tried to navigate the Italian traffic, Marla leaned over and began to do a dance on me with her tongue. It had been awhile since the last time, and I worried that I could suddenly cum without warning. I narrowed my brow and concentrated on the odd traffic signs to prolong the ecstasy of being inside her wet mouth. She expertly ran her tongue in long rhythmic circles around the head of my tool, then proceeded to slowly inch the tightly gripping circle of her lips down from the head of my erection to its throbbing base. When she had the entire length of me buried practically down her throat, she sucked like a shop vac until…
"Uuuuh! Yes, Marla! Now!" I shouted as I simultaneously pumped a week's worth down the back of her palate -- and pulled to a screeching halt at the toll booth. "Benvenuto a Pompeii!" the toll taker chuckled, a phrase which means "welcome," but also translates literally as "good coming!"
We parked on the outskirts of the ancient city walls, picked up some obligatory guide books, and headed into the ruins of old Pompeii.
It was immediately apparent that the great culture which perished in 79 A.D. was by no means prudish. In fact, we learned that the phallus was a greatly respected symbol, used to ward off the "evil eye" and associated with plenitude and fertility. The phallus was given personality in the god Priapus, who is depicted, in many sizes and varieties of materials, not as an obscene figure, but as a bearer of luck and as a distributor of the great powers of the phallus or Fascinus. Fascinatin' Fascinus is always portrayed as a small hardy male with a raging and disproportionately large erection. I'm beginning to like olde Pompeii.
At last we came to the famous Lupanare -- a street so named for the howling cries of its satisfied customers. Prostitution is, after all, one of the oldest and best respected professions, and the Lupanare Grande was its ancient Pompeiian center. We were at first surprised at how small the rooms of the brothel were, but each one was comfortably outfitted with a long and wide stone slab that, presumably, with padding, provided the romping grounds for Pompeii's love-hungry citizens.
Above each doorway in the brothel was a fresco painting depicting the erotic "specialty" of the lady inside. A customer could choose to wander from room to room, or to frequent the kinky professional of his choice. The frescoes were faded, though sexually explicit, and nowhere could we find a detailed description of exactly what services each sex pro provided.
While I stood contemplating the frescoes above the doorways, Marla yanked hard on my arm and pulled me into the first chamber. And then things got weird…and wild…and ancient…
As if in a dream state, but with utter authority, Marla whispered to me, "I am Amora, your Eternal Virgin. I have saved my charms for your taking. I desire you, but I am fresh and nubile. I am unknowing in the ways of the flesh…be my guide, kind sir."
She pulled me down onto the surprisingly comfortable stone slab. I removed her light cotton sundress, under which, to my surprise and delight, she wore nothing -- and indeed, with her dancer's body, she very well could have been the Eternal Virgin she professed to be.
"Come, my dear…there are Rites to be passed," I said, slowly parting her tense and quivering legs. I could sense her staged, but well depicted fear, and a mix of apprehension and terror passed over her eyes.
"But you are so large," she said, observing my poised member. "And I am not yet broken!" "Surrender. Submit!" I instructed in my best 1st century command tone. Like a sacrificial lamb she spread her legs and poised her chin towards the ceiling.
With one powerful hymen-penetrating thrust, I sank into her shimmering wet slit with my engorged cock. Her creamy thighs tremored in freshly-maidened ecstasy. "Aaaah," she cried aloud and instantly, without even a second thrust, I came. A deep and shuddering climax that taxed every muscle in my body. I was spent.
After a moment's repose, she led me towards the second chamber. Instantly, her guise changed. There were red coals in her eyes, and daggers on her tongue when she scolded, "Why, you naughty man!" She slapped me hard across my bare buttocks. Really hard.
"We'll make you work to deserve your pleasure now!" she exclaimed, slamming me back against the stone surface. "Hands behind your back. You heard me!" she shouted, grinding her pelvis into my groin. Nevertheless, I was hard once more.
She impaled herself with a deep pummeling motion and began to fuck me in hard swift up & down motions. When I rose to see the splendor of her pussy pumping up and down on my dick, she slapped me hard across the face. Really hard.
"You monster! Did I say you could watch? No one watches Crula!" Crula? WTF? Faster and faster she pumped, briskly massaging her own breasts in repetitive circles. She worked me until I could feel her clench and her body tremble and ripple with climax. I had still not yet cum, when she climbed off me and beckoned me into the next room. Now what?
With a royal air, Marla leaned over the edge of the stone slab, and waving her intoxicatingly smooth posterior in slow rocking motions, cooed: "So. You have come to take the pleasures of Luna." By the sly grin that I figured out was the real Marla, I knew at once what I was being offered. But Luna?
With great groaning, humming anticipation, I stood behind her and stroked her smooth flanks. I cupped her buns and gently spread apart her cheeks to peer at the delicate pink star of her anus. I reached underneath to her sopping cunt and drew a river of the juices up through her crack, drawing slow lubricating patterns around the rim of her ass. Yes, Luna!
Standing back with her cheeks spread apart for one last look, I then slowly fitted the head of my aching prick against the pink entry. I pushed just enough to feel Marla's stomach suck in hard with that first gasp of excruciating pleasure.
Knowing that this part is the most delightful, I worked very slowly back and forth, not moving more than a half inch in and out of her tight rear. Finally, as I could feel her ass muscles relax, accustomed to my presence, I sank in deeper. Pausing to cup her breasts and stroke her sides, I moved gently back and forth, sinking the full length of my tense hard-on all the way inside her.
"Luna will show you the light of the moon," she whispered hoarsely, and she tightened hard around the head of my cock, making me gasp. I began to pump her more vigorously now, and my movements grew more and more rapid, as I saw the sweat break out on her back. I could sense her pleasure mounting with mine -- and in one great simultaneous groan, we both fell forward onto the stone.
We rolled over onto the floor and then she climbed up and on top of me. "Now let Marla & Nigel make a little love 21st century style," she whispered to me, and rolling over again, I began to fuck her hard, smooth, and deep. Just the way she likes it. We both came once more and then figured it was time to head home and savor the experience, the memory, and the history of ol' Pompeii with Amora, Crula, Luna, and finally Marla.
-- Nigel H.
