La Bocca D’Oro
Mar 16, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment
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“Adora what?” Luke frowned at his playboy friend – the self-named, self-made Billy o’Naire – who’d gone rigid on his barstool.
“La Bocca d’Oro. She’s here. There. No, don’t look.”
Luke sipped a beer that cost more than his shirt and swept his eyes across the uber-cool terrace-bar, all sculptures, sea-views and suits. He did not belong here. He was not to be fooled by the smiles of those who caught his eye, which were – as ever – more lecherous than accepting. In fact, if it wasn’t for Billy begging Luke to be his ‘totty-hook’ he would have only seen this place in the airplane magazine on the way back from Italy.
A couple were being settled at the terrace’s best table, its original occupants being moved on without a fuss. The man looked like ‘family’, or at least Luke’s idea of what a gangster looked like: A handsome, very well-dressed, very well mannered, thug. But the woman. The woman was astonishing. Brigit Bardot, Audrey Hepburn astonishing.
Luke sniggered. “Bill, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Bill necked his beer, he shrugged. “Yeah, that sexy one in Ghostbusters, maybe. The one who goes down on Dan Ackroyd.” He leant toward Luke. “La Bocca d’Oro means The Golden Mouth. You get my drift?”
Now Luke looked. The woman took off her dark glasses, and tucked a wind-blown curl of black hair behind her ear. Her big eyes were sun-glassy-dark even without her shades, and cheeky as hell, but her lips were the star. Massive, pillowy and curled. She laughed, a hiss that caught her pink tongue between little teeth. Luke all but jumped as she cut a glance at him.
“Lucky bastard,” Luke sighed, his already ill-fitting clothing tightening further. “Is that his wife or his mistress?”
Billy shook his head. “Neither. They say La Bocca is a predator. She’s no working girl, she… feeds.”
“Feeds. Cost you a million dollars, though. To feed her.”
They drifted into silence, lost in furtive glances at those exquisite, expensive, lips. Luke squirmed. “Have you… ever?”
“I wish. La Bocca chooses, and she’s very, very picky. Only the chosen can reward her.” He puffed a long moan. “Man, I would blow a million in a heartbeat.”
Luke laughed. “Probably why you’ve never been asked, my friend.”
“Hey, my over-excitement would qualify me more than you think.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “La Bocca has a rule. If you can last more than five minutes, she won’t take your money.”
“In her mouth.”
“Seriously? And no-one—”
“She is very, very wealthy.”
Luke growled. Then as if to prove her power, La Bocca d’Oro leant across the table and whispered in the Mafioso’s ear. He stiffened. She kissed his neck. He gripped the table, twitched once or twice, then slumped. The woman blinked slowly and turned away. She fiddled with her bag, writing on something. Suddenly her date, her prey, did not exist for her. He stood and marched off.
Luke and Billy stifled laughter, following the thug’s awkward departure through the bar. “Easy money, there,” Billy sniggered.
“Quite,” said La Bocca d’Oro, suddenly beside them.
Billy – veteran of every debauched party the fashion world could offer, and many it wouldn’t dare – turned white as a sheet and coughed. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Luke jumped to his feet, and for the first time in his life, clicked his heels and bowed.
La Bocca d’Oro clapped her hands, threw back her head and laughed. Luke didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her hand or defend himself with a chair. He smiled. She sighed and slipped a card into his shirt pocket and patted his chest, then rolled away, waving brightly to knuckle-biting waiters and flushed, scowling women.
Luke dropped onto his stool, digging the card from his pocket with trembling fingers. Printed on it, simply was: Maria de Fiorente, ‘La Bocca d’Oro’ along with an address. Luke stared, not a phone number or anything. What was he supposed to do now? Then he became aware of Billy’s glare, scrutinising the back of the card. Luke flipped it to find, written in florid loops: ‘You are magnificent! And very beautiful! Come tomorrow 9.00am. (Dress for the pool)’
He grinned. His heart hammered. His trousers threatened to burst. Then he frowned. “Mate,” he said, but Billy was already shaking his head. “Mate, could you lend me a million dollars?”
Maria de Fiorente’s house appeared to slide out of the clifftop landscape, dipping in and out of Cyprus-trees and olive-groves as the winding path led Luke’s taxi to her door.
The taxi driver refused Luke’s proffered notes when they arrived in the driveway. “Maria, she pay.” He knocked knuckles on Luke’s chest. “And I wait. And have gun, Capisce?”
As the taxi-door slammed shut behind him, the house’s front door – a monumental slab of wood – slid open. Maria stood with a towel wrapped around her, fingers coming out wet hair. Out of her power-clothes and make-up she looked fresh-faced and girlish. Innocent even. Luke’s head Escort Beylikdüzü swam with the unreality of why she wanted him here.
She clasped the towel tight to her breasts as Luke approached, sparkling up at him and even blushing. Her eyes darted about his face and she bit her lip. Despite Maria’s state of undress, it was Luke who felt naked in shorts and shirt.
“You are even bigger than I remember,” she said, standing on tip-toe, reaching up to his neck and pulling his face down to hers so she could press those fabulous lips to his cheeks. They were cool, cloud-soft pads that left ghosts of themselves on his skin. She smelt of the sea and flowers. He took a deep breath and hoped she had already started the clock.
“Hmm,” she purred, nuzzling into his neck. “You smell as good as you look. You will taste good too, I think.”
She sighed, kissed beneath his ear and chuckled softly. He thought of the Mafioso, and clenched hard. Maria nodded as if he had passed some kind of test by not erupting immediately and took his great hard paw in her small, smooth hand; pulling him inside.
The contrast in their physicality was already arousing. However as Maria led Luke meekly through her modernist sandwich of glass and stone he seemed to shrink. This woman was clearly larger than him in most other respects.
Silently, they slid out through acres of floaty voile curtains, to the pool. Champagne chilled on a low stone table flanked by white marble seating – expensively carved to look like surreally placed Chesterfield sofas – set by the side of a black mirror of water disappearing into the blue seascape.
He almost jumped when she squeezed his hand. “You know my rules, I suppose?” she said, turning toward him but speaking to her toes.
“Only what I’ve been told.” He cleared his throat. “Five minutes, one million dollars?”
Maria glared at him. “That is what they say?”
Luke had a terrible sense of being the butt of a bad joke. “Umm. Forgive me. It’s not true?”
“Motherfuckers,” she spat, frowning at the sky. Then she sighed, deeply, the bounce leaving her for a moment, slumping her shoulders. Her expression melted, and he had the sudden urge to kiss her.
So he did. Tipping up her chin and pressing his lips firmly to her bedazzling mouth. Her breath caught, then her lips plucked back. Suddenly she grabbed his buttocks, growled and her tongue wriggled into his mouth. Luke had the sense of tugging on the tail of a tiger.
“Wait. Wait.” She muttered, even though it was Maria pecking kisses to his face, and squeezing his body in quick testing grips. She took a trembling breath, pushing away from him and smiling awkwardly. “What they say is true, in a way. It is true I want to pleasure you, for five minutes, with my mouth.”
Luke groaned. Maria guffawed. “I know, but it is not just my peccadillo. I do not want to be with a man who will climax when I am still… warming up. If you can pass this test of my mouth, without…” she made fireworks her fingers, “then you are strong enough for me, and we can have a very exciting time together. But you cum too soon? Well. I will be disappointed and this will cost you.”
“At least. I like cream, but for dolci, not antipasti, Capisce?”
“Of course.” Luke clicked his heals for the second time in his life, and tried to ignore the heat building in his shorts.
“Allora,” Maria announced to the pool. “Swim. I will be one minute,” she padded off.
Luke pulled off his shirt and dived in to the water, glad for the cooling. He swam to the end of the infinity pool and marvelled at water tumbling down the cliffs to the sea below. What beauty Maria’s beauty had brought her. He wondered how many men she had pleasured for these riches. Or, as she liked to believe, how many men had “disappointed” her.
A knot of jealousy tightened his gut. He shook his head and dunked himself under the water. On no account should he believe this woman was in any way his. On no account should he believe her, full stop. Her flattery could be part of the whole Golden Mouth thing, for all he knew. He should not let it overexcite him. Luke wanted to make this last. No. He needed to make it last.
Unfortunately, Bill had got so twisted with envy he refused to lend him any money. Luke had turned up to this million dollar party broke. If he climaxed in less than five minutes he would not be able to pay. And there was a man outside with a gun.
He swam back to find Maria in a loose white beach-dress, pouring champagne. She spilled it, gawping at him as he pushed out of the water.
“Oh my,” she said, sucking champagne off her thumb and handing him a glass. “You work out, don’t you? Your arms are big as my legs!”
He took the drink, embarrassed at the tremble in his hands. Maria clinked glasses, biting her cheek. He sipped. She glugged, tipping back her head, her throat undulating as she gulped then gasped, wiping the back of her hand across her lips. She giggled Escort Bahçeşehir and belched softly, an enticingly bawdy contrast to her sleek sixties eye make-up. Luke noticed her lips remained pinkly lipstick free. Possible reasons for this had his shorts squirming.
“Allora,” she said, and regarded him, folding her arms and tapping her bare foot. The sun streamed through her knee-length lacy dress from behind, clearly silhouetting fine, curvaceous thighs and hips. She swung them under his gaze. “You are wondering, no?”
“Wondering?” Luke covered the front of his shorts.
“If I am I naked beneath this dress.” She danced a little pirouette.
“I personally believe you to be,” Luke said, “and refuse to be told otherwise.”
She chuckled, that enticing tongue-trapped hiss. Luke thought he’d been witty but Maria was pointing to his hips. “The sun teases us both. My shadow has got right to work!”
Luke traced the light from her, along the dark poolside and up his legs. It had projected her head onto the front of his sodden shorts. Blood flooded his midriff.
She blushed again, crimson this time and Luke marvelled at how disarming this was. It could not be faked, surely. The coy charm. It was as If she really fancied him.
Then, with a distinct lack of inhibition, she reached up her skirt with both hands. “And as for your beliefs,” she announced and yanked white panties down to her ankles, manoeuvring them off her feet. She waved them like a flag, one foot curled on the knuckle of her toes.
His cheeks heated and Maria peered at him triumphantly, and then flicked the underwear at him like a rubber-band. Instinctively he caught the cotton. It was damp.
She poured another glass of champagne, and topped up his, not that he’d drunk much. His wits swam dizzily with the air beneath her dress, wafting around exposed crevices. Before he knew better, as she turned back to the table, his hand had followed his imagination up her skirt. He stroked a deliciously bare buttock.
Maria smiled over her shoulder. “Good, you are a brave one. This is promising.” She lifted the back of her skirt and watched him pet her, raising goosebumps to her smooth, pert globes. His fingers, teased by her underwear, wanted to curl underneath her to the source, but her legs were closed. Instead he smacked her lightly, enjoying the wobble so much he stooped and buried a kiss to its bouncy resilience. Maria giggled huskily, so he nipped her and she squealed.
She gave a wriggle and dropped her skirt. Luke stood, his heart threatening to leap right out of his chest. Brave indeed. He had never wanted to cum so badly from kissing a woman’s ass.
“Oh dear, I am so…” she grimaced, “so liquid today.” She sipped her drink, her eyes wandering over his chest and stomach. She smiled at the ridiculous distortion in his shorts. “You know why?” She sat cross-legged on the edge of a seat, level with his hips, “I think I may, possibly, have found the man of my sexiest dreams.”
Maria didn’t need to tell Luke to remove his shorts. Her eyes tore at them like a child with a birthday present. He unfastened and dropped them, kicking them away.
Her eyes widened, locked to his thick, meaty club as it unfurled erect in front of her. She beckoned him closer as it nodded to full-on rigid under her glassy gaze.
“Oh my,” she breathed, and put down her glass. She pulled up a knee, teasing Luke with a hint of pink puckering under the slid-up skirt. She toyed with her toes, the corners of her smile twitching.
He flexed, inches from her face, and her eyes flicked to a band of beads on her wrist. Her watch? Luke swallowed. Five minutes.
“I eat only the finest, you know this?” She leant back in her seat, pulling up the hem of her dress for him. The smooth dips and petals of her sex curled from a neat black bush to the cleft of her bottom. She smirked under the drill of his eyes and pulled up both knees, wrapping arms around them and discretely hiding herself again. Luke’s cock bucked.
“Now I think maybe I have settled for scraps when I could have enjoyed prime fillet, hmm?”
He remembered the Mafioso. This was a woman who didn’t even need to touch you. Had a similar golden tongue got the thug so worked up that he was broken with a whisper and a kiss?
Luke’s naked member danced in the air for her attention and she frowned at it, running the tip of her tongue along thick lips. “My mouth waters for this. Both my mouths.”
She smirked and lifted her feet up off the seat, pulling her knees back to her chest, explicitly pushing out her labia, every bit as over-scaled as the lips of her mouth. Their epicentre glistened in the sun. Luke’s cock strained toward her, but only the black holes of her eyes devoured it.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly, wringing her feet, watching him stare into her dewy flower. “I am making this wonderful moment last, because I worry that the first touch of my lips on that fat rocket will set it off. And there will be a lovely mess, then… nothing.” She sighed and curled one hand over her sex, sliding a finger along her wet groove. She put it to her lips.
“Always, my mouth, she eats well. She grows fat on the cream of handsome billionaires. But down here.” She slid both hands between her thighs and squeezed her mound. “She grows so hungry.”
Maria shivered and leant forward, dropping her feet either side of his and lowering her skirt. Luke felt vulnerable, stood between her spread knees, as if in the firing line of some concealed weapon.
“And sometimes,” she said to his cock, “like yesterday, with that dolt at lunch? I starve all over.” She reached out and cupped his balls, squeezing them. Whether testing, or warning, he couldn’t tell.
She let out a long growl. “It has been so long since someone has properly satisfied me.” Light fingertips ran along his length. “No matter how much I punish my men for climaxing too quickly, they still let me down. I mean, one million dollars? This is insane. ” She took him in her fists, barely able to close her fingers and thumbs around his girth. Luke found this Ironic, given his tiny bank balance next to her massive wealth.
Maria laughed humourlessly, pulling his cock up and down in both hands, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Then they boast about rewarding the great La Bocca d’Oro her million dollars! As if it is my skill, not their weakness that bursts them on my tongue.”
She tilted her head, peering, biting her lip. “So gorgeous,” she purred, “Please. Please do not cum yet. Just give me five, good, minutes.” She leant forward and slowly pushed plump, yielding lips to his taut bulb.
He groaned and she grinned, leaning back to slide the urging grip of one hand briskly along his length, eyes locked to his thrusting in her small fist.
Luke didn’t know what excited him more, this intimate tug, or Maria’s other hand; dipped beneath her skirt and playing secretly, the cotton flipping up and down between her thighs.
“I don’t get it,” Luke said. “Why eat them at all? Why not let them… do you first?”
“Why should I not have what I love? Just because they can’t handle me?” She took a breath, then puffed it out, slowly. “No. I will keep taking their… money until … one day I… find…”
She trembled again, hard, and her toes clenched.
“Oh no.” She muttered and let him go, diving her hand up her skirt to help the other. “Sh-shit.”
Luke could not help but grip his member and rub it, picking up Maria’s rhythm, all thoughts of how dangerous it would be for him to cum right now – just one minute into their tryst – lost in the moment of relishing this beautiful woman’s rising climax.
“Oh yes,” she hissed, watching his joggling meat and pumping fist. “Don’t stop! Don’t– OH!”
Her hips arched off the seat, her eyes screwed shut and she jerked against her fingers, once, twice. Then she slumped and writhed on the seat, hands clasped between her legs, blushed down to her neck and cursing.
Maria withdrew her hands from the exquisite mystery under her skirt and took his cock off him again. Some of her fingers were glossy to the knuckle, all were slippery.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, flicking a suddenly bashful gaze up at him. “That has never happened before.” But her climax had done nothing to dampen her ardour. If anything her eyes smouldered. He dug his fingers into his buttocks and locked his knees.
With a long sigh, she pressed her cheek to his pulsing member. To him, it looked lumpen and brutish against the pale perfection of her skin but she saw something else it seemed, nuzzling like a hungry cat. “You are just so…” her voice trailed off and she kissed along his length, sliding from her seat to her knees.
His knees wobbled and she grabbed his balls to hold him steady while she pulled back his skin and dabbed a light tongue under his head. He gasped and shuddered. She swirled her tongue and he bit down hard at the tenderness of her licking against his pumped flesh. Her kisses grew wet and impossibly soft, lips and tongue indistinguishable as she rubbed and explored him, returning to places he gasped over, humming at sensations she relished.
“Yes,” she hissed, rubbing his cock vigorously toward her open mouth, ready to take him in, her wet breath rolling down his shaft. His knees shook again, violently.
“You are too close,” she breathed, “try and calm yourself. It is difficult for me too, you know? I am still too horny, see. ” She grabbed his hand, yanking him down and shoving it up her skirt. She slid his palm along her inner thigh. It was shockingly slick.
“F-fuck,” he muttered. His brain flip-flopped, and his cock spasmed. She laughed and pulled a bead of pre-cum to the tip of his pulsing meat, watching it roll out before running a flat tongue from balls to head, tipping her head over it…
Maria’s mouth engulfed him. He tried to pull away but she gripped him hard and hummed a long, blissed-out suck.
“Careful, I’m gonna cum,” he blustered.
Her growl quaked through him. She did not want this, and he could not afford it, but unstoppable energy fuzzed in from his edges, drawn inexorably into her beautiful, terrifyingly eager mouth.
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