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Franco Rinaldi woke up in his seat and looked out the window. He had dozed off for almost an hour, and the airplane had already started its descent. He turned towards the other passengers and met Rossi’s eyes. The young corporal was grinning: “Did you sleep well, Captain? Shall I call a flight attendant and get you a cappuccino and a slice of cake or would you rather have a stiff drink, since it’s almost 5 PM?”
He mouthed the words “joker” and “moron” and Rossi read his lips and shut up. Discipline was all shot to hell by then, of course. They were on a domestic civilian flight from Catania to Rome, and they were both on leave, even if they were still wearing their desert camouflage fatigues. Just two guys in a crowd of travelers. In the morning they had boarded an army transport plane from an Iraqi military airport and reached their base in Sicily before lunch.
Franco was a Carabinieri captain. He had joined the Italian military police when he was little more than a boy, and that had been his life since that moment. Two years earlier his unit had been deployed to Nassiriya, in southern Iraq. He was coming back home after his third six-month tour of duty, this one mostly spent in training new Iraqi police recruits. It was the last leg of his journey and he was totally relaxed after the nap, looking forward to his evening with the keenest pleasure. Elisa would be at the airport to meet him and soon he’d be alone with her after too long a time spent in the company of other men.
After landing he waved to Rossi and to the other soldiers further down the aisle, grabbed his carry-on bag and went out in the warm late-afternoon sunshine. Elisa’s red Fiat was parked next to the airport service vehicles. He had given her two full-access passes, one for herself and the second for the car, and apparently she could get through security without a problem. She came out smiling but didn’t run towards him. He walked to her, caught her right hand in his left and kissed her cheeks briefly. An officer should keep his composure in public.
“Would Escort Keçiören you like to drive?” she said.
“Not really. I’ll have time tomorrow for that, when you are in the office.”
Elisa sat behind the wheel and started the car. She was wearing a simple white dress. Her skin was slightly tanned and smelled of body cream. It was mid June and she had sandals on her bare feet. Just by looking at her, Franco began to forget the sunburned faces, the parched lips, the blinding sandstorms and the constant smell of sewage of Iraqi towns. This wasn’t a war zone.
Elisa drew up at a secondary gate manned by four Carabinieri in light-blue summer uniforms. The noncom in charge of the detail raised his hand to the cap and saluted, as a soldier rushed to lift the barrier. “Welcome back home, Captain. Have a pleasant stay.”
Elisa remained silent for a while. She knew better than inquiring about the situation in Nassiriya and Franco’s work there, she was content with having him in the passenger seat, all in one piece.
“Antonella and Chiara will stop by to say hello later. They really want to see you, are so curious about you that I couldn’t say no to them. You never want to meet my friends so this time I forgot to ask you…” She smiled warmly. “But I’ll make it up to you, I don’t want to see you sad tonight. It would be so unfair after six months…I’m not that kind of bitch!”
“What kind are you, honey? Start by showing me your legs as you drive.”
She complied, pulling her dress up. His hand was soon gently on her knees, then suddenly moved up and grabbed her right thigh hard.
“You like that? I think I can do something better for you.” She left the main road and turned onto a dirt track leading into the pine forest that stretches from Fiumicino airport to the coast west of Rome. The tall maritime pines spread out their thin and wide umbrellas over the clean ground. After about half a mile Elisa stopped, got out of the car, went to the opposite side, and opened Keçiören Escort Franco’s door. The dry fragrances of pine barks and resins wafted inside. She pushed the linen straps off her shoulders, removed her dress and chucked it on the back seat. She was naked except for her sandals. Franco held her hips with both hands and nudged her belly with his face, saying nothing, feeling the warmth of her skin on his lips.
“Will you ever get up from that seat?” she said, stepping back from him. “I want to take you into my mouth.”
He went close to her. She crouched down and rested her buttocks on her heels, looking up at him with an intent stare. He was out of his uniform and underwear in a minute, offering his semi-rigid penis to this astonishing woman. Her tongue began to wet the tip of his cock, glided under the shaft and reached his shaved balls. She happily sucked them into her mouth one at a time, standing still with her eyes closed. Franco’s cock was now hard and engorged with blood, the big purple vein on top keeping a steady pulse. Elisa kissed and licked that cock for minutes, sucking its tip, pressing the heavy member against her face, sometimes looking into her lover’s eyes.
She pulled her head back one inch and spoke directly into the cock she had sucked. “How am I doing? I now take requests…”
“Move faster, hold it inside your mouth, make it all wet” he urged.
“If you want me to suck your dick like a bitch, you’ll have to make me do it.” She wasn’t angry at all, she was actually leading him right where she wanted him.
Franco moved slightly and was directly opposite her face, feet firmly planted on the ground. He held her nape in his left hand and with his right one slowly guided his cock past her open lips, over her wet soft tongue and onto the back of her throat. Elisa was ready for the small shock she suffered when she found she couldn’t breath anymore. Her eyes filled with tears, but soon she was inhaling regularly again through her nose. She felt deliciously used, and Keçiören Escort Bayan knew very well how she must have looked in that moment. A hunter’s prey, a flesh toy, a naked victim below her strong man’s cock.
Her pussy was open and coated with juices. Her hand reached down and she started to masturbate deliberately, thrusting two fingers in and out of herself, and rubbing her mound under her palm in the same motions. Franco wasn’t thinking anymore, he was moaning deeply now, instinctively fucking her face with fast hard strokes, pulling his cock out of her throat only to slam it down again a moment later. His hands pulled her head closer, then pushed her away in a fluid sexual cadence. Her saliva was flowing out of her lips and over his balls, his legs and her tits. Her own leg muscles hurt and her whole body was shaking.
After long minutes Franco stepped back and jerked his cock, pointing it at her. He grabbed her hair in his fist, pulled down and turned her beautiful face up. She saw the pine tops bathed in the warm Roman sunshine. “Is this what you picture in your mind when you jerk off alone? My face and my breasts wet with spit, my fingers in my pussy?”
She saw a flash of intense white light and her orgasm slowly began in the distance, but she tried to hide it.
“Is this what you teach the Iraqis? How to abuse a woman who loves you? How to turn her into a whore?”
That was impossible to resist. He came hard. His first warm rope of sperm hit her in the nose and hung over her mouth, then he squirted again over her neck and a third time on one of her thighs. Other liquid drops sprinkled her breasts. Elisa threw herself off her heels and lay on her back on the ground, twitching in the spasms of her own orgasm. The walls of her vagina closed around her fingers and she called his name twice, eyes closed and mouth open to suck in air. When she finally relaxed, she realized that not only was her right hand wet with her own juices, but her wrist too. She remained there a minute, waiting for the gentle sea breeze to cool her off. She realized that some of the fine soil stuck to her back, she was a mess.
“I’ll help you clean up, honey” Franco said.
She smiled to him. “There’s a bottle of water and a large box of tissues in the trunk. Get to work, soldier!”
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