Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
The ghost of a timid smile haunted her lips, and soon enough they were pressed against mine in a slow yet very passionate kiss, one that fully expressed what she was feeling.
I slipped my tongue into her mouth and caressed hers, deepening our kiss, for I knew that it was going to be one of our last ones. It had to be. I encircled her waist with my arms, pressing her dainty body against me while trying to imprint every single detail of her in my memory, knowing that I was never going to touch her again once we returned to New York.
Alison, however, had other plans. She pulled away from the kiss and grabbed the shower gel, squirting a good amount on her hand before offering it to me. She then started to wash herself quickly but thoroughly, and I understood that she was impatient, that all she wanted was to get back to bed. With me.
So I mimicked her actions, occasionally leaning in and stealing a kiss from her, earning myself some melodious, carefree giggles.
And I knew that I was worsening my situation, that I was only adding to the deplorable actions that shaped me into a hypocritical cheater, but I couldn't control myself with her. I watched her lay in bed, naked, and I got on top of her, sliding down her body after a long, sloppy exchange of saliva and parting her legs in order to expose her glistening folds, which looked so appetizing.
"Lorenzo..." She breathed sexily, closing her thighs around my head and rolling her hips into me, pushing her delicious sex into my face.
How could I stop? How, when I had her writhing and crying thanks to my tongue only? When I had her continuously moaning my name as if it were a prayer? I was a sinner, a disgusting one. No matter how many times I mentally asked for forgiveness, I didn't regret my sins.
Alison was completely spent after coming two more times. She tugged on my hair and pulled me upwards, unable to take any more stimulation, even though I could've licked her and sucked her for hours. Without saying a word, she tiredly got on top of me and buried her face in the crook of my neck, placing soft kisses on my skin until she fell asleep. Lovingly.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Olivia, my wife, the love of my life, was waiting for me with a bright smile plastered onto her face. She was clad in a blue dress that fell loosely down her body, the presence of a white silk belt being the only thing giving it some shape. The front strands of her hair were pulled back and held in place by a golden barrette decorated with lapis lazuli that I'd gotten her in Greece a few years back. And she was beautiful.
I let my eyes wander to Alison for a brief moment, and I saw her running towards her father and jumping into his arms like a child.
That's what she was, a child. And I was old enough to be her father, hell, my own son was older than her. My son... He had a crush on her, he liked her, and I had shamelessly fucked her multiple times in just a few days. I could still taste her berries lip balm on my tongue after almost having sex with her again in the plane's restroom. It had only taken me a damn trip to completely abandon my morals and betray my family, the two people I loved the most.
