Handmade
Vivian is still not entirely convinced that traveling to Italy in the middle of July was the best idea, but the smile on her friends' faces is more than enough to endure the feeling of cloth sticking to her body and the stares that the locals seem to throw at them as they walk down a long street. It has been a while since they have continued walking after witnessing a street show of two fire eaters throwing flaming swords and doing acrobatics with sticks with which they spit fire so hot that the heat even reached them despite having kept their distance.
"I'm bored out of my mind!" Loren squeals under her huge sun hat. "When are we going to do something fun to take this heat off?"
The friends shuffle down the street, until they enter an alley that leads to a tiny square with a dry fountain in the center, where Loren slumps down followed by Nat. Carol remains standing next to Vivian, but her eyes are more focused on whatever is on her phone than on the possible dehydration of her friends.
"Maybe we should find a place to rest. A café where we can have a cool drink?" offers Vivian, but Loren's look confirms to her that it doesn't fit into her definition of 'fun'.
Vivian lets out a defeated and tired sigh, her eyes better deciding to take a look at the surrounding shops. The walls are the same color as the floor and all the window frames seem to be losing their layers of green paint to the ravages of time. Most of them have their doors closed, a bookstore, a watch shop and what appears to be a bakery, but Vivian's eyes fall directly on a shop that seems to be lost between two others.
Carol lets out a proud laugh. "You're going to love me."
"What did you do?" smiles Loren, exchanging a glance between Nat and Carol.
"There's a festival near here. Apparently all of Italy is marching there right now."
"You're the best!"
Vivian can't be too excited. The idea of a festival where all of Italy seems to be attending just creates images of sweaty bodies and human heat that makes her throat dry just thinking about it.
"Where is it?" asks Nat, standing next to Carol to glance at her cell phone. "Can we walk there?"
"Apparently we're only a couple of minutes away if we follow this alley to the main street and up the hill."
That definitely didn't sound like a plan.
"We'd better get going or we'll miss the good stuff!"
The three friends start to move forward, but Vivian stays in place, planted like an old oak tree.
"Viv?" calls Carol, leaving Nat and Loren to make distance. "Aren't you coming?"
"No, I'll catch up with you in a bit."
"Are you sure?"
Vivian nods. "Definitely. I don't have the same energy as you guys. I'll get some rest and catch up with you girls in a bit, I promise."
Carol looks like she wants to reproach something, but notices that Loren and Nat are already almost about to disappear down the road.
"Okay. Call me so I can find you when you do."
Once she is no longer able to see or even hear her friends, Vivian lets her feet guide her to the shop, whose door is the only one where a sign smiles a welcoming 'Siamo aperti'. As soon as she opens it, she is enveloped in the freshness of the room and the unmistakable smell of clay. Every wall is decorated with shelves, many filled with pots and plates and others still eagerly on the wait for them. Her fingers are dying to feel the surface of them all and a smile creeps across her face when she comes across a tiny cup in which she imagines anyone wouldn't possibly take more than a sip.
"
Come posso aiutarla
?"
Vivian jumps back, horrified at the sound of the tiny cup crashing to the stone floor of the shop. She turns immediately, coming face to face with a man with Mediterranean sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes shadowed by curling locks falling over his forehead.
"God, I'm sorry." Vivian blurts out, not knowing how or where to put her hands. "I didn't mean to drop it. How much is it? I'll pay for it."
She's already reaching for her handbag, but the man's perfectly contoured lips make her pause as they form a smile.
"You don't need to pay me." His voice is sweet, marked with the seductive accent of Italy. "But you can help me make a new one."
"But I don't know how." A nervous laugh escapes her lips. "Oh, I suck at crafts."
The way his shirt fits tightly to his side as he leans on a table lets Vivian see that underneath that fabric that doesn't leave much to the imagination lies an athletic torso. His muscles stand out as he crosses his arms, tilting his head to meet her undecided eyes. With the most relaxed features Vivian has ever seen in her life, he makes a comment that brings the unbearable heat back to her belly.
"You look like someone who's very good with her hands."
Vivian can't hide the flush that takes over her cheeks, nor ignore the insinuation made by a complete - and hot as hell - stranger. He moves on without waiting for a response, disappearing into the back of the shop, leaving Vivian alone with her intrusive thoughts. Her head is in a quandary. She can leave money on the table, walk out the door and march up the hill in the scorching weather to meet her friends. Or she can follow the stranger and find out what 'good with her hands' really means. And the truth? She wasn't about to walk up a hill.
The back of the store leads to an even smaller room, with shelves holding tools and jars of what appears to be neatly organized glaze. Remnants of past and current projects share space on a corner table, next to a small kiln that fills the room with delicate waves of heat. In the center, a workbench with a lathe at the ready spins as hands with long, nimble fingers expertly mold the clay.
"And I'm supposed to do that?"
The man's eyes meet hers.
"I'll show you." He steps back on his bench, leaving a small space in front of him. "Come here, tesoro."
Vivian obeys, sitting between his legs and feeling like the lead in a gooey romance movie that makes her let out a low chuckle. She couldn't imagine herself in that kind of situation with him. Less so when their bodies were so close, his hard abdomen pressed against her back and something else brushing against her ass.
"Vivian." She says, feeling a shiver run down her back as his breath hits the back of her neck when he moves closer to hear her better. "My name is Vivian, not ‘tesoro’. Vivian Boyd."
"Nice name. I am Lucio Mazzanti." His hands intertwine behind hers, guiding them straight to the clay. "Now, Vivian Boyd, follow the movements of my hands."
She nods and the lathe begins spinning again. The clay is soft and easy to mold with Lucio’s help, but it's hard to concentrate with him so close, breathing on her cheek and intoxicating her with his minty scent. He instructs her as the clay takes shape, first a small mountain that is soon pressed into a long cylinder that spins in their hands. Vivian bites her lip, unsure why the figure reminds her of things it shouldn't, things that make her heart race and her breathing labored.
"I thought we were going to make a cup."
"First I have to show you how it's done. Relax."
There is no way to relax when he uses her fingers to bury into the clay. Something as common as molding shouldn't be so arousing, but Vivian can only imagine what those hands would feel like molding her body. Without meaning to, a halting sigh escapes from between her lips and Vivian can feel Lucio tense up behind her.
"Everything okay, tesoro?"
Vivian nods, but shakes her head almost instantly. "Can I lead?"
There is a moment of silence in which Lucio seems to think. Vivian turns her head, seeking his eyes, his lips, and Lucio seems to understand what Vivian is asking with her gaze.
"Sure."
Her hands soon wrap around Lucio's, who has remained completely still, letting Vivian be the one to take the initiative, to guide, to move his hands through the clay from top to bottom, through the plate that spins countless times before Lucio stops pressing the pedal that controls the movement as soon as he feels her trace a path up her bare legs and through her shorts.
Lucio holds his breath, his hands the tool that allows him to form images in his mind without the need for his eyes to see it. Soft skin ignites his fingertips, warmth spreading through every area of his body that comes in contact with her.
The clay makes it easy to slide his hands around and Vivian's unsettling need makes it even easier for those hands to be allowed to caress the base of her breasts, to hold them between his fingers.
One of them takes back its own control, outlining a sensitive areola and an erect nipple that functions as a catalyst that triggers chills in every corner of her being
"Oh, mio Dio" Lucio whispers in her ear and she can't help but let out a low moan. "Sensibile?"
"Stop speaking Italian." She blurts out.
"Does it bother you?"
"It turns me on."
There's a low growl that Vivian can't identify as a laugh or a sigh, but she doesn't care, for the pleasure his fingers deftly offer, agile and precise, could only remind her of the soft touch of fresh clay on her skin, giving him a chance to be more soulless with his caresses without actually hurting her.
"Bene, bene." Lucio leaves kisses on her neck, bites on her lobe. "Sai che questo non fa che incoraggiarmi a continuare a parlare italiano?" his fingers tug at one of her nipples, snatching a lusty whimper from her lips. "E questo mi fa solo venire ancora più voglia di scoparti".
"I don't understand you, you know?" Vivian gasps.
This time, he does laugh. “I said, 'YOUR moans make me want to fuck you even more.'”
Vivian can only tremble. “What makes you think I'll let you fuck me?”
"This."
It takes a second for Lucio to grab Vivian by the hips and turn her around, letting her ass land directly on the work table, where the clay they were both handling is completely crushed by the body of who he believes to be a goddess since his eyes saw her enter the store. Vivian can only be surprised and watch from below as Lucio towers over her. He wipes his hands on the apron splashed with earthy colors and with his eyes locked on hers, he brings his hands to his waist, pulling down his pants with annoying slowness, until Vivian is left speechless.
The apron is the only thing standing between Vivian and what appears to be the largest member she has ever witnessed in her life. It's so erect it's like a rolling pin pushing the apron forward, where Vivian remains unspeaking, filled only with a gnawing lust and a growing desire to reach out to touch it.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" He almost purrs. "You want to see it?"
Vivian bites her lip, nodding.
Even just seeing him, Vivian can feel him inside her and her womb seems to quiver with excitement. Lucio's penis remains upright even with its long size. His thickness is delicious and the vessels running down his length seem to throb with excitement, the engorged tip glistening with the first drops of pre-cum that make Vivian's mouth water.
"God, how big are you?"
Vivian grazes the tip, eliciting a painfully pleasurable spasm from Lucio.
"Twenty-seven centimeters." He gasps. "Are they enough to let me fuck you? Not doing it right now is taking a lot of my willpower."
Damn. The idea of such a huge cock fucking her is thrilling, a fantasy come true. But the voice of reason doesn't seem to stop tingling deep inside her, underneath the heat that blurs her vision. Lucio is a stranger and while considering him taking her raw might be exciting, she's not entirely sure it's the wisest thing to do.
And yet...
Lucio runs his fingers along the edge of her shorts, his member peeking out between her legs as his owner makes expectant circles around the metal button that keeps him away from what he seeks.
"Can I have you?"
She might say no. And she's sure that if she does, Lucio wouldn't object.
It's all the more reason why she says, "Yes."
And the reward is gorgeous. A smile tugs at Lucio's lips, his eyes bright, a combination of happiness and lust that leaves a beautiful color to his irises.
He leans over her, his arms holding her firmly against the worktable.
"May I kiss you?"
Vivian nods and his lips meet hers perfectly, soft and wanting.
"May I strip you?"
Vivian nods again, letting Lucio's hands grab her shorts and slide them down her legs along with her panties. The immediate nakedness makes her feel self conscious, but Lucio seems busier leaving kisses on her belly and thighs.
"What a pretty lady you are." He says between her legs.
Vivian gasps with anticipation, "I thought you were going to fuck me."
"Patience, sweetheart. First I have to make sure you're wet enough to take me."
Vivian is about to protest, but the sensation of Lucio's hot tongue between her folds mercilessly assaults her and sends her toes curling.
"God!"
"You taste so good..." He licks, his hands preventing Vivian from being able to close her legs. "I'm sure you'll feel even better."
Lucio blows on her folds and Vivian shudders, cursing as soon as he presses a kiss to her bundle of nerves.
"You really like to tease, don't you?" she says, watching as he stands up straight and settles between her spread legs.
"Tesoro, you don't know what I like."
Vivian opens her mouth to say something, but only a cry is able to come out at the wrenching sensation of his penis thrusting in inch by inch with painful insistence until twenty-seven allows him to kiss her cervix.
"Tight, but you're taking me so well. Let's get you a little wetter, shall we?" Lucio leans over her, using his tongue to caress the buds hiding under her blouse.
Vivian uses her hands to hold onto his shoulders and hair as he moves slowly, pulling out gently before re-entering with greater speed. Her cries are choppy with each thrust, feeling so full of him that the first orgasm is too much, flowing noisily out of her vagina and trickling down her ass to where the rest of the clay mixes with her juices.
“Look at me, tesoro. Let me see what those eyes of yours hide.”
She obeys, crossing her lost gaze with his, and that’s when Lucio drowns in her eyes, dark and deep as freshly applied polish. The woman he fucks is definitely a goddess, brought into the world to make him happy just by looking at her, and suddenly he feels like the luckiest man alive to be able to even touch her, even more so to be able to make her gasp and moan as she does at the moment. It was maddening. Hearing her produce those sounds with her pink mouth, making his cock get even harder than it ever had. And the sensation of friction she was giving him was only setting him on the road to orgasm at record speed.
“Merda, you feel great.” He growls in her ear. “I can’t stop fucking you.”
"Don't stop." She moans. "Don't you dare stop, Lucio. Fuck me harder. God!"
Lucio is pumping his hips at full speed, as Vivian dies and comes back to life again and again, unsure how many times she has climaxed around his cock, but quivering with sex and feeling her legs lose their strength. Fortunately, he holds her to keep her from slipping and moves in a way that every part of her can feel every part of him and revel in the sweet rubs of his length on her most sensitive spots.
"A little more..." He pants.
He is so intoxicated from the pounding sounds of skin and fluid that his brain processes nothing but to keep going and hold his orgasm to the point where his lungs notice the lack of oxygen. By the time he catches his breath, his penis is buried deep inside Vivian, who screams out in pleasure and the sensation of Lucio's spasming penis shooting its contents directly into her cervix.
They both breathe shakily, Vivian crushed by the weight of a giggling Lucio stroking her legs, still inside her.
"Magnifico." He says, lifting his head to look up at her and leave a delicate kiss on her lips.
Vivian can't help but smile.
"Now you're going to have to teach me how to make your cock out of clay so I can remember you."
He quirks a high eyebrow at her. "That doesn't sound very safe."
"Then I guess I'll have to take the real one."
"As long as it's still attached to my body, I'm not complaining."
"Even better." She smiles.
