A Room with a View

Dear Avid Reader…

   There are times when what you see is more than you need…





There’s something about Italy!

Actually it’s probably just being on holiday or the blazing sun or the smell of sun tan lotion on minimally dressed women. Still, it all adds up to the same thing. I’m feeling horny and the real world can just go fuck itself for the next few days till I have to board a slim metal tube that apparently defies the law of Gravity and return to it!

The mercury has been hitting the mid thirties. In the shade! The sun is almost at its zenith and I’m not English and not a mad dog so for the next hour or so I’ll avoid direct sunlight even though the azure pool looks very tempting but instead I head for the en-suite and settle for a cool shower. Our hosts and my family are busy reading or playing games on the X-box respectively within the cool interior of the converted farmhouse and my wife has missed or ignored any of the subtle (maybe not) hints I’ve dropped about the state of my libido. I’m not that surprised as she would consider it rude or impolite even though we all seem to be in our own little worlds at the moment.

I step into our bedroom, my eyes drifting to the narrow windows and the views beyond as I unbuckle my sandals and push down my shorts. The skin beneath is almost startling in its pallor compared to the rest of my body even with the dark mass of my pubic hair at the centre. I frown as I spot another grey hair denoting the ever onward march of time. “C’est la vie” I smile ruefully and grab a fresh towel from the bed and step into the shower room absent-mindedly stroking my semi-hard cock as I do.

The shutters on the windows are fixed back to the wall and an unbelievably hot breeze is wafting in through the open window over my naked flesh. The shower itself isn’t even in the same league as the one we have back home, the water pressure is intermittent and the temperature can plummet or rise if someone so much as thinks about running a tap elsewhere in the building. But for all its failings the view makes up for it. It’s simply breath-taking.

Such a view

The house itself sits on a small rise to the east of a field of sunflowers forever turning their heads towards the hot sun while a small river passes to the south down the gradient less than forty metres from the pool. At ground level a row of willow trees screen the residents from prying eyes along the river bank while three rows of vines on the other two sides block the view from the gravel road that circles and connects the house to the rest of the world. During the summer lazy clouds of dust will rise up behind the grapes as the infrequent traffic passes by.

Even with the trees and vines the view is still quite breathtaking with mountains, sometimes still capped with a hat of snow even in July, about thirty miles to the east and meandering valleys interrupted with the granite formations left over from more volcanic times to the south. Almost every hill has an Italian village perched precariously upon the summit with the requisite bell tower marking the location of the church thrusting up above the mix of classic terracotta tiled roofs and white-washed reflective walls.

I stand there drinking in the view, all the little details of the vista drawing my eyes from near and far and left to right. The olive groves, the recently mown fields with large round hay bales scattered across them, derelict houses and the rare ultra-modern new build with an array of shining solar panels beside them. A car and a tractor are paused on a nearby road as the locals exchange gossip in their rapid-fire dialect that leaves my own abilities of translation far behind, clouds of white butterflies dance and whirl above a field left to fallow for the season as a stray cat watches them closely, its gaze continually switching as it fails to focus on just one inappropriate prey. At this distance it’s impossible to be sure that it’s Nelson, the family’s one eyed cat but if it is I reckon the butterflies are safe with his lack of depth perception.

The breeze through the window drops and even here within the interior the day’s heat ramps up almost as if I was standing in front of an open oven. I pull my eyes from the view and step back onto the shower tray briefly checking the pointless thermostat on the shower tap before turning it on. Goose bumps flair across my back as the first cool drops of water bounce of the tiles and onto my back, I shudder and step back into the flow, my skin tingling as the heat is drawn from my bronzed flesh.

The cold water streams and flows down my body following the contours of my flesh and washing the dust away in its progress. Goose-bumps spread across my skin, even beneath my hair as I feel my scalp prickle pleasantly and I roll my head back, my neck creaking as I do, soaking my closely cropped black (though getting greyer by the year) hair as the water warms. Reaching for the temperamental temperature control I ease the dial back and forth till the flow is luke warm, just a fraction below the apparent air temperature and re-focus my eyes on the landscape before me.


Even though I had been horny and had taken myself away from company for the simple idea of relieving my ‘state’ the view has already done it. I’m grinning as I tilt my head from side to side allowing the water to alternately roll down my left and then right, rocking back and forth on my heels washing my torso and back. My cock although still somewhat more swollen than its ‘de-fault’ setting (although I know my wife would argue that erect often seems to be its natural state) is no longer ruling my brain and the pure unadulterated beauty framed by the window is!

The faraway locals complete their discussion and the tractor starts up with a faint roar and a belch of thick exhaust from the black pipe sticking up crookedly from the engine and rolls easily away. The car, apparently silent, jumps forward for a moment before bouncing roughly over the track towards the right of my ‘picture’. Even from this distance I can tell it’s some sort of small Fiat with a brightly contrasting yellow panel above the front wheel arch compared to the battered red of the rest of the car.

I roll my head in the steady downpour of the shower my neck no longer audibly creaking as I wonder about the bravery of the Italians. The racist stereotype is defied by the majority of the motorists in this European country who never seem to show any fear whether on busy city streets or driving what was a cheap ‘run-a-bout’ up tracks that a four-wheel-drive Chelsea tractor would hesitate about. My cock gives a little twitch as I think about the blonde ‘Sloanes’ of Chelsea compared to the sultry brunettes of Italy.

I look down and know that my vote is cast to the darker of the two and I wrap my hand around my semi-flaccid cock and slowly stroke it back and forth. Breathing deeply my girth swells rapidly and I lean against the tiled wall letting the main focus of the spray splash upon my left shoulder. My eyes return to the view vaguely taking it in as I let my mind wander back to the image of my wife lying face down on the sun-lounger less than an hour ago. Nibbling on my bottom lip as I picture her dark brown hair hanging down around her face, the third ‘holiday’ book open on the ground beneath her face, a single finger keeping her place.

Smiling as the knowledge of whether she is awake or napping completely unknown unless she speaks or reaches for the glass of home-made lemonade placed strategically in a shadow. I can track down her oiled glistening back, her breasts flattened beneath her and appearing much larger than her B-cup as they squeeze out from beneath her frame on the multi-coloured towel she lies upon. I squeeze my cock harder and slowly draw my foreskin back from my glans filling the sharp drops of water fall onto my sensitive flesh.

I pause in my movement reveling in the sensation before slowly resuming my leisurely wank. My ‘eyes’ move further down counting the ribs radiating from her spine and down to her glorious ass. My hand quickens on my length as I imagine the bronzed oiled form of her cheek, her bikini bottoms slipped in towards the cleft between her cheeks knowing that if I don’t reach across soon her own hand will reach back and ‘correct’ the sheer oil soaked material.

In my mind I do the work and as usual lift the material away displaying her tan-lines momentarily for my view and pulling the crotch fractionally tighter over her mound. A murmur somewhere between annoyance and pleasure will escape her lips; a long standing ritual between us and depending on the circumstance one with various outcomes. In company, I risk a single gentle tug and allow the material to settle back knowing an ‘annoyed’ smile will be playing about her lips and that soon the misbehaving bottoms will need another re-adjustment.

I shift my chair in my mind as my hand squeezes my manhood tighter and look down between her oiled gleaming thighs and the crotch disappearing between them. The material is dark undoubtedly from the hours of applied lotion and yet a slim darker line is apparent just as it hides from view. I hope our hosts at some point will take our recalcitrant teenagers away on some day and I know my continued maintenance of my wife’s’ attire will result in a hot fuck beside the pool beneath the blazing Italian sun.


Breathing harder, my hand pumping faster I stare out of the window with glazed eyes knowing that the imagined feel of our oiled bodies sliding against one another will bring me quickly to fruition. “Ohhh fuck” I whisper and then freeze as something catches my eye.

For a moment I dismiss it as some bird having just flown through my periphery vision and then my eyes shift down almost on instinct to the stream sparkling below. It only takes a second and then I see the figure stood beneath the shade of a tree at the water’s edge. Even though I can’t see the persons eyes I know that I am being watched and my body remains frozen and I centre my gaze upon them. Whoever they are, and in the shade I can’t be sure if they are male or female but they show no remorse at having being caught spying. The moment lasts for a age before they step forward revealing a young man dressed in a simple white T-shirt and multi-coloured shorts carrying his sandals in one hand as his feet are washed over by the stream.

A pair of sunglasses hides his eyes which at the fifty metres distance I know I wouldn’t be able to see anyway. His other hand is within his shorts obviously wrapped around his own manhood. I tense up at a loss with the situation and the one part of me that I have no volition over takes control. I slide my hand back and forth along my length and the stranger does likewise. I can just make out the man’s smile as I continue to stroke myself.

In all my life I had never been watched masturbate except by my wife and ex-girlfriends; none of had indulged in any exhibitionism although we had ‘misbehaved’ in various risky spots but had never been caught. Once or twice it had been very close and I’d wondered how I or my partner of the time would have reacted. This was a completely new situation and so far out of my comfort-zone and yet my cock had responded and was as hard as it ever had been.

I slowed my hand and nodded to my ‘peeper’ who understood instantly what I wanted and threw his sandals further up the stony bank and pushed down his shorts with his other hand exposing his own erection. I breathed deeply as what appeared to a very long and very thick cock was revealed and pulled on my cock harder and faster. The young man gave the briefest of glances about him and his hand matched my own speed as he reached down and cupped his balls.

I did likewise, massaging my sac and rolling my testes about within as my hand began to flash up and down my length. I stepped out of the shower and took the couple of steps towards the window soaking the bathmat in my progress, never taking my eyes from the young hard cock. I watched fascinated as this young man, who had the look of an Italian, a very fit young Italian who I knew was just the sort to turn my wife’s head pumped harder and harder on his erection. I glanced downwards aware that with my knees now pressed to the wall below the window I was visible from the path that skirted around the garden although not the one that circled tight to the house.

For the first time in my life I seriously considered what it would feel like to suck on a hard cock and my sac pulled up tightly, my cock jerking in response and thick ropes of my seed shooting out and through the open window. A moment later my Italian stud followed suit and I saw him stumble and I wished I was close enough to see his own cock ejaculating in detail. I wished I was close enough for his semen to shoot into my wide open mouth!peeper

Jet after jet erupted from the eye of my cock and I knew if anyone walking below happened past that they would indeed have been hit. I stared down at my twitching cock, amazed at the amount of seed that my balls supplied; not since the hormone driven times of youth had I produced so much in one ejaculation. I looked up at my distant companion and saw him focus his gaze on me and lift his fingers up to his mouth and suck on them. I licked my own lips and copied his actions although there wasn’t much of my own seed to sample but still I tasted my own saltiness on my tongue.

I was shaken from my reverie as I heard footsteps from the corridor outside and the creak of our bedroom door. I quickly stepped back into the shower and looked longingly to the figure down by the stream. He too had stepped back and once again stood within the shade beneath the overhanging trees.

“Hey babe” my wife greeted me as she stepped into the en-suite, “you still showering?” she asked as she leaned around the shower wall and grinned her eyes dropping momentarily to my once again semi-hard cock.

“Err… yeah… almost done” I stammered as she disappeared from view and her distorted shape sat down on the toilet beyond the glass.

“Room for a little one in there?” she asked as I heard her urinate briefly and then a moment later the flush of the toilet. “Oops” she apologised as the water ran cold.

My eyes were fixed on the river and I barely noticed my skin prickle beneath the colder stream as my ‘peeper’ was no longer there. “Always room for a little one” I answered stepping further back against the tiled wall.

She stepped around having already removed her briefs and quickly pulling off the top dropping it to the floor and stepping forward her small hand wrapping around my shaft. “Has someone been a naughty boy, already?” she asked obviously knowing the answer as her thumb smeared the remains of my seed beneath my foreskin.

“Might have” I replied.

“Hmmm… well, I will have to see whether I can help you more?”

“You might have your work cut out for you?” I replied smiling.

She grinned broadly and dropped to her knees, closing her eyes as the water splashed all over her head and shoulders, “Well, I like a challenge!” she answered sucking my semi-swollen cock deep into her mouth powerfully.

rewardI ran my fingers through her hair teasing out the knots in the streams of water and looked out once again through the window to see a familiar figure once again standing in the water’s edge. I could feel my wife grinning around my rapidly swelling cock, her lips locked around the base and my erection growing, reaching deeper towards the back of her throat as my Italian stripped off completely revealing his Adonis-like body. “Ohhh fuck” I breathed…

~ by ftfagos on July 6, 2015.

One Response to “A Room with a View”

  1. […] was a little story called A Room with a View and actually The Pool and by default The Moment fall in to the same category or rather that deep […]

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