weather was miserably hot and sticky in the ancient
city of Verona. I was there to attend the opera Carmen
at the city's Roman arena, along with twenty thousand
or so other people.
I am no fan of opera but, as usual, I was under the
influence of the woman beside me (my sister) who wanted
to see one, so there I was, sweating bullets and being
elbowed by people of several nationalities, none of
whose cultural upbringing included standing in line.
Oddly enough I didn't really mind because of the lady
against whose back I was jammed. She was a stranger
but not so much as she had been a half hour before,
when I had found myself standing behind her in a semi-line,
waiting to use a unisex toilet in a crowded bar.
had noticed how lovely she was as we stood in line.
She was tall and lithe and I could see the ends of
her bobbed strawberry blond hair sticking out from
beneath her round schoolgirl type straw hat. The hat
emphasized the sweetness of her face; the high cheekbones;
the soft pout of her lips; the sensual roundness of
her chin. Her eyes were gray-green and so big a man
could lose his mind in them. Her skin was silky clear
and, despite the sweaty heat, it made me think of
rich smooth French vanilla ice cream.
She was wearing a midi-length yellow sleeveless summer
dress with little flowers on it. It buttoned up the
front, but not so high as to keep a tall fellow like
me from catching teasing glimpses of her cleavage.
She was not wearing a bra. I could tell both by glimpse
and by the pointed shape of her nipples poking up
the little flowers on the bodice her dress. The lady
was having trouble standing still. Between her need
for the restroom and the heat she was dancing from
foot to foot and flapping the skirt of her dress in
a kind of bellows motion to try to bring some air
beneath it. She noticed me watching her flap and dance
and smiled, a bit embarrassed.
still like a little girl," she said, with a crisp
British accent. "I hate wearing clothes in the summer,
and I hate waiting for the loo."
that mean you usually go naked in the summer?" I asked.
I hadn't really meant to say anything so forward,
but I was under the spell of the delicious glimpses
of her breasts and those eyes.
She lifted an eyebrow at me and I thought I had offended
her, but after a moment she smiled and said, "Actually
yes. When it is warm enough I shed my clothes. Not
in public though." Her smile turned to a wicked grin.
I said. "What a disappointment."
that point we moved forward a little and she stepped
into the tiny anteroom of the toilet, where the sink
was, and let the door close between us.
When the current user left the toilet the British
lady stepped in, and pulled the door closed. I stepped
into the tiny anteroom and let its door close behind
me so that I stood almost against the toilet door
in relative quiet.
then it happened.
the toilet door I heard the hiss of the golden stream
rushing out of her, and the splash of it falling into
the toilet. It sounded like she was pouring it from
a pitcher on the second floor into a rain barrel on
the ground, and the sound of it made my heart skip.
In my mind I could see her. Rather than sit her naked
bottom on a seat that had been occupied by countless
thousands, she had simply hiked up her dress and straddled
the commode. The picture of her-- skirt held bunched
above her waist, knees a little bent, legs bowed open,
quadriceps slightly strained and so showing their
delicious curves through the smooth flesh of her thighs;
the strawberry blond delta of pubic curls. The lightly
fuzzed lips of her womanhood parted to show the coral
color of the inner lips and pink pearl nubbin of her
clitoris. And from the center of that delectable flower
the salty/bitter stream spurted forth to break into
golden droplets just before it splashed into the water
of the toilet.
She squeezed off the stream for a moment, but then
let a shorter burst of the mind torturing liquid spew
out. It stopped again for the length of a heart beat
then resumed for two more tiny, finishing dribbles
before the clattery spinning noise of toilet paper
sheets being pulled from the roll reached me. That
sound set off another picture in my mind -- A wad
of tissue held in her long graceful fingers as she
carefully dabbed the last few drops of that heady
liquor from between her legs.
wondered if she had simply pulled her panties down
or stepped out of them completely. No-- She had to
have stepped out of them. Just pulling them down she
might have accidentally wet them so she must have
stepped out of them -- unless she wasn't wearing any.
That would fit too. She wasn't wearing a bra, and
said she hated to wear clothes in the summer.
sound and those mental images had made my manhood
stiffen like a steel post. Even my jockey shorts could
not restrain it. It made a very noticeable lump in
the front of my pants.
I was thinking that my condition was going to make
my own toilet visit difficult when the lady opened
the door and stepped out -- right into my arms. Her
forehead was just high enough for me to have kissed.
Hello again," she said, embarrassed at meeting me
at such close quarters. It was then that she felt
my rampant member poke her in the tummy. She jumped
back, but bumped into the door of the toilet and rebounded
into my arms.
sorry," I said, turning bright glowing red, and trying
to step back myself.
all right," she mumbled, looking anywhere but into
my eyes. She ended up staring at my zipper, and that
was when she realized that my situation was because
I had heard her pee.
my God," she said and lifted a slim hand to her mouth.
was suddenly able to read her mind. She had her own
mental images of me, my ear pressed to the door, my
fingers pressed to my zipper. "No! It wasn't like
you think! I didn't mean to listen. I couldn't help
it! I'm sorry."
she smiled and laughed a little. "Well, I did have
to pee rather badly."
I blinked at her, and then returned her smile. "No
doubt about it," I said.
glad you enjoyed it," she said and slipped around
me and out the door, leaving me with my mouth hanging
And now I was jammed against her back by the crowd
shoving toward the entry way.
particularly forceful shove from behind me made me
reach to check my wallet at the same time I bumped
hard against her back.
say, steady on," she said and glanced over her shoulder.
Our eyes met and her stern expression changed to a
charmingly crooked smile. "Oh. You again," she said.
didn't know you Brits really did say 'Steady on'.
I thought that was just a David Niven movie line."
I should have simply elbowed you and said, 'Watch
it buddy!'" Her imitation American accent wasn't bad.
your friend?" My sister asked.
had forgotten she was with me. "I'm sorry, I don't
know your name," I said to the top of the schoolgirl
I yours," she said glancing back again.
we are on such intimate terms maybe we should be introduced.
I'm Geoff, and this is my sister Darlene."
do you do. I would shake hands, but my arms seem to
be pinned to my sides. I'm Samantha."
you alone?" Darlene asked.
no, I'm with my friends Geoff and Darlene," she said.
laughed. "Samantha and I met in the line for the john
back in the bar."
enlightening experience," Samantha said and turned
back to face the front.
all lost interest in the small talk about then because
the mob surged forward with the opening of the gates.
I lost interest, less because of the crush than because
I was crushed against Samantha's back. The humid heat
of her body transferred from her to me like an indrawn
breath, and my testes tingled as though touched with
a gentle electric shock. My cock began to rise, and
there was no way to hide it, what with it jabbing
the small of her back like the barrel of a .44.
I was trying to think of something clever to keep
Samantha from screaming rape, masher, or something,
when she half turned her head and smiled a sweet Madonna
smile. "Crowds are so difficult aren't they?" she
sorry," I began. "It's just that I can't get rid of
a certain mental image, and your perfume is killing
should have thought I smelled like perspiration,"
this is the stink of sweat I am glad I didn't meet
you when you were all fresh and perfumed. I would
have died on the spot."
How gallant," she said. "You American's aren't nearly
so crass as television would lead one to believe."
was almost too much for me. When she said, "Gallant"
my out of control mind ticked over with memory of
an erection being called "the Gallant Response."
were funneled through a door and started up some steps
of a tunnel, which lead into the arena. The steps
were much higher than ordinary steps; almost twice
as tall in fact, and that brought the luscious swell
of Samantha's hips higher--just high enough for my
still turgid member to go from poking the small of
her back to poking into the cleft of her bottom -
low in that cleft.
I truly expected her to scream. We were, after all,
almost locked in the most intimate of connections.
Only the angle, the material of my Jockey shorts,
my light summer trousers, and the thin yellow cloth
of her dress kept us from joining. But she did not
scream or try to get away; instead, she widened her
stance which widening the cleft where my cock rested.
And, as if that were not more of a dream come true
than I could ever have hoped for, she then squeezed
that delicious nether cleavage tight upon my intrusion
for a moment, then released it.
I could not help but moan and lift my right hand to
cradle the wonderful roundness of her right bottom
cheek. My fingers slid into the cleft beside my cock
and I felt that firm globe tremble a little as I squeezed
was that?" Darlene said, pulling at my other hand.
"Was that you?"
"I'm squished," was all I could manage to say.
We moved up the steps again. I dropped my grip on
Samantha and held back against the crowd a little,
trying to get some distance between Samantha and myself,
for I just knew this was all going to come crashing
down around my ears with screams for police and me
being carted away to the local hoosegow. I could already
hear the judge saying, "The charge is assault with
a friendly weapon..."
separation indeed took my still stiff member from
between those shapely, muscular buttocks, but it brought
my nose nearer to them. So near that her perfume (and
I don't mean the kind that comes in a bottle) clouded
around me. It almost made me moan again. The mixed
aromas of salty/bitter perspiration, and the warm
sea smell of natural feminine lubricant were so strong
I could taste it on my tongue.
suddenly another irresistible image flickered through
my errant mind. An image of Samantha with her skirt
held above her waist, her legs apart, knees a little
bent so that her quadriceps were flexed and showing
through that silken flesh, but this time I knelt between
those spread thighs. I held those delicate strawberry
blond fringed outer lips apart with my fingers and
ran the point of my tongue between those coral inner
lips. From the tight cinnamon brown flower of her
anus, up into the opening of her womb, then up and
over and around the hard pearl nubbin of her clit.
The salty sweet taste of her was like costly, dangerous
liqueur that could addict and poison a man so that
he could not continue to live without tasting it again
you come on!" Darlene said, pulling at my hand. We're
holding up traffic! What is the matter with you any
heat, I guess," I mumbled, my voice shaky with the
dregs of my image.
Samantha had gained three steps and was almost at
the opening into the arena.
light flooded through that opening, and through the
yellow cloth of Samantha's dress, silhouetting her
body: the long legs, the round firm bottom. I would
have sworn I could see the cleft that divided right
from left between her legs, but that may have been
a trick of the light and of my fevered mind.
then I saw the cop�
He was standing at the side of the opening and Samantha
nodded at something he said.
Oh God, here it comes, I thought with the echo of
clanging steel doors in my head.
The crowd divided at the door some going right some
going left. Samantha, after nodding at the cop went
right. Darlene and I stepped up to the arch and sure
enough the cop's hand came up to grab my arm as I
started to the right.
Signori, alla sinistra per favore. La destra ha troppo
My Italian isn't so good so it took me a moment to
understand that he wasn't busting me, he was telling
me to go to the left because the right was too crowded.
Relief swept over me for a second, but then regret
bubbled up to drown it. Samantha was going the other
way! I glanced back over my shoulder to see the back
of her lovely yellow dress and pert little schoolgirl
hat being swallowed by the pushing pulsing mob, anxious
to find a place to sit in the ancient arena.