Roma Victrix - Sex Stories

Roma Victrix

... of the mini contractions of her edging caused a few drops of her man's cum to squeeze out of her fertile depths, mixed with her arousal.

But not a drop was wasted.

The second young woman in the bed saw to that. Greedily sucking on Marie's clit as her fingers rhythmically come hithered, skillfully dancing on the hardening patch of flesh at her fingertips, lay Marie's younger cousin, Naomi. She was aridiculously hornyteenager who, in the past year (and mainly under the corruptive influence of Marie), had gone from innocent virgin to the depths of sexual depravity in the way that only a deeply repressed Roman catholic schoolgirl can.

Barely six months ago, Naomi was still a shy, conflicted lamb in an all-girls dormitory a stone's throw from Saint Peter's Basilica. She had barely even looked at her own sex, let alone masturbated. But visiting her estranged family (and being reunited with her lascivious cousin) had changed all that. Now, her seemingly insatiable sexual appetite had been unleashed, and she seemeddetermined to make up for lost time.

Even as Naomi kneeled in her white stockings and pleasured her cousin, her pussy was practicallyscreaming at her to give it attention. She wanted James to take her again even though he had only just finished inside her.

James leaned back and surveyed the scene in front of him. It was beyond erotic and into the realm of the dark divine. Marie's young lover lapped and kissed her sex with the focus and intention of a mother ...

... cat cleaning its newborn kitten. It was as if her universe stopped at the black silk garter belts that framed Marie's soft inner thighs. The two women seemed oblivious to everything except the velvet vibration enveloping them.

There is something very cat-like about both of them. James thought, watching Naomi's bottom wiggle as he popped a grape into his mouth. The two women looked more like sisters than cousins. There was something primal about them both. From the shape of their eyes to the shamelessness of their wanton sexual urges to the way they moved. They relentlessly pursued their animalistic passion, but every movement was graceful and done with intention. As he watched, James had a flash of certitude that this wasprecisely how Cleopatra must have carried herself in her countless carnal encounters in this city where all roads lead.

He smiled and slipped another overripe red grape past his pink lips. It tasted tart, like pussy. And it made him hungry. James slid his long acrobat's body from the sofa and approached the bed with its elaborately carved headboard. He felt his manhood stirring. He wrestled his eyes from the perfection before him to stare up at the ceiling of the old Auberge where they were spending the weekend. It was gaudily painted with gold and divine frescos of angels and cherubs. A bit much, but not in Rome. Besides, nothing is better than gold bathed in candlelight to set the mood.

Outside the window, he could see the Roman Forum and, beyond ...