0 comments/ 35705 views/ 12 favorites What Happens in Rome - A Love Story By: dtiverson I reimagined something from my first book just to see how it would look as a short story WHAT HAPPENS IN ROME: A LOVE STORY Tom We were pushing down the Italian boot to the Amalfi Coast. The drive down to Rome on the A12 and A1 is about five hours which is a full day on Italian roads. So I was beat when we pulled into Rome in the late afternoon. Approaching Rome from the E45 via the Via Salaria you are traveling along one of the most ancient access points into the City. In fact many historians think that Rome was founded by people who came down over this ancient route to gather salt in the marshes that eventually became the Roman Forum. The name of the road, "Salaria", hints at those origins. We had reserved a pensione for the night in Rome. Pensiones are what we in the States call a B&B. We like staying in them once in a while, because it gets us closer to the locals. And we wanted a "no-fuss" place to stay that would capture some of the ambience. This place looked right. It was classic Roman - on the Viminal above Trajan's Market. I had to weave my way through late afternoon traffic in Rome to get to it, which took a long time. But the first impression was worth the trouble. The pensione itself looked like it had been built around the time that Julius Caesar was in diapers. The walls were roman brick and were about three feet thick. The family occupied the ground floor. The floor above, where the guests slept, was probably a storage room back in the seventeenth century. But now it was subdivided into four bedrooms off a narrow hallway. The stairs to the rooftop garden were at the end of the hall on the other end from the stairs leading up from the family quarters. As far as I was concerned, the main attraction to that place was that I could park my Bentley in a secure stone building adjacent to where we were staying. And the family promised me that one of their sons would sleep there that night to keep it safe. That precaution is necessary because it is never a good idea to park a two hundred thousand dollar automobile on a Roman street for the night. The rooms were large and "rustic" and they all had a breathtaking view out open country style windows, all the way down to the Via Fori Imperiallii and the Palatine behind it. The view from the room, along with the rooftop garden was what sold the place to us. We dropped our bags and immediately discovered something that the website didn't mention. The walls that partitioned the rooms weren't actually walls. They were some kind of polymer sheeting rather than plaster, or wallboard. It was obvious from the large rocks inscribed on the laminate panels that the owners wanted to create the impression that you were "roughing" it in the Italian countryside, even if you were sitting right smack in the middle of Rome. Those "rock" walls would bow if you pushed on them. The room itself would have been nice if the walls were sturdier. But as it was, those paper thin walls fostered way too much intimacy - if you catch my drift. In short, you could hear everything that went on up there. Even though it was getting late, we were the first to arrive and so we got our choice of rooms. We chose the largest one with two twin beds looking off of the Viminal side, rather than the bedroom next door, which had a double bed. It wasn't that we were one of "those" couples. It was just that the double bed wasn't much larger than the twins and I didn't relish spending all night on top of a naked Millie in any kind of sweaty un-fun way. Plus I knew that given the state of those walls and her legendary enthusiasm, "fun" just wasn't going to happen. There was at least one other guest that night and after almost two decades of being married I was certain that trying to start something in a semi-public place would land me sleeping on the floor. The doors to the bedrooms themselves were constructed from the same ancient boards that made up the floor and they had NO LOCKS, just an inside latch worked by a rawhide opener. This was probably meant to reinforce the impression of "rustic Italian charm". But for anybody who has ever traveled in Italy the lack of locks was a scary proposition indeed. So we tried to move to a slightly less "rustic" place, like a Hilton. However it is almost impossible to get decent "walk in" booking in Rome no matter how much you are willing to spend. We planned to always be in close proximity of the room, so we eventually decided to spend the night. What really tipped the balance was the fact that the family who owned the building had about a dozen adult children, all of whom had a big stake in ensuring that their guests weren't ripped off. They guarded the access to upstairs. ~ Millie We came in through the 30 foot high Aurelian walls where the ancient Porta Salaria stood and proceeded along the finger of the Viminal to our pensione. I love Rome. There is something about the ancient majesty of that city that makes me feel, rather than see the great river of history as it flows along through the ages. Every time I see the Pantheon I get the reminder that ancient Rome had a culture and technology that we wouldn't see again until the 19th Century. It just seems inconceivable to me that a people could be so advanced and then decline so far. Three of the seven hills, Quirinal, Viminal and Esquiline are like fingers of a hand pointing toward the original city. The Viminal is the middle finger. It was inside the original walls of Rome but it wasn't ground zero in the ancient city, like the Capitoline, the Palatine and the Aventine. In fact in Caesar's day it was the place where the really rich people build their villas. The growth of the ancient megalopolis eventually caught up with all of that suburban charm and the place where we were headed was now on a street as narrow as you would find in any medieval village. What set this pensione apart was that it was located right on the edge of the hill, looking out over the Field of Mars and down to the Tiber. In essence the entire historical city of Rome was spread out at our feet. I was not pleased with the room situation though. Everything that could possibly go wrong had. The walls were tissue paper, albeit hard polymer tissue paper. They were so thin that I could hear the guy in the next room, who had arrived just after us, brushing his teeth in the bathroom down the hall. The doors themselves weren't really doors per-se. They served more like screens than actual security barriers. I "got" that the owners were trying to foster an ambiance but I had enough expensive things just in the small bag I had brought up from the car that I pestered Tom to move. He tried at least a dozen hotels but the acceptable places in the city were booked up. So we were stuck for the night. Tom paid one of the older sons to camp out with the car and got the guy's son to sleep at the foot of the stairs. So there was some security. The guy next door seemed to be the only other visitor that night and although he was clearly from some place way to the east of Italy, he at least looked like a business professional. Tom hit a nearby Trattoria for takeout which was delicious. He also appeared with two bottles of chianti and a fifth of Pernod Pastis, which I love. I would have suspected him of planning on working his evil wiles on me, which I might add I would normally enjoy, but we both knew that that wasn't going to happen given that we were literally sharing our bedroom with another guy. And I had no intention whatsoever of entertaining him all night with my vocals. So sex would have to wait until we got to Salerno the next day. The little lady in my head snickered and said, "It'll do him good to be celibate for a couple of days." ~ Tom The roof garden made up for all of the other inconveniences. It was carefully architected to give the appearance of a country hideaway, with bushes, vines and trellises all over it. There were little tables and chairs with red checkered table cloths and candles burning in Chianti bottles. In short it was like something out of Lady and the Tramp without the guy playing the concertina. We had had a long drive and the mushroom and feta cannelloni I had bought across the street was mouth-watering. Millie is not a dainty eater like most women would have to be to keep a hard body like hers. It is probably all of the exercising, but it could just be simple genetics since her mother is also perfectly slim, just not muscular like Millie. She tore into the cannelloni like a starving wolf on the day they brought out the sheep. I had been driving since morning and it was already close to 9:00 PM. So I was sleepier than I was hungry. I ate a little and drank some of the wine but I found myself nodding off; and then occasionally nearly falling out of my chair. Millie, of course, noticed this and muttered the word "embarrassing" under her breath. That woman could sum up the difference between a 44 year old woman and a 56 year old man in one succinct word. After almost two decades of marriage I consider myself a thoroughly well-trained husband, so I took her hint. I stood up, stretched and muttered something to the effect of "I give up – are you coming?" She had done none of the driving and the unfolding evening was classic Rome – warm, pastel pleasant, with a faint savor of exhaust. She said brightly "Not right this minute" as she poured herself a hefty shot of the Pernod and added the water that would make it turn milky white. She is far more romantic and deep-thinking than I am and I knew that she wanted to just sit quietly for a while and soak up the ambiance of that ancient place. I on the other hand, was more than willing to call it a night since the trip down from Genoa was tough and we were driving south of Naples the following day. That 3 or 4 hour trip was also going to be grueling, even in a Bentley. So I leaned over and kissed her good night, fondling one of her huge round tits as I did so. Not being one to allow a groping of the goods in a public setting, even if it was Italy, I got a resounding smack for my efforts, which was well worth it. I walked down the narrow flight of stairs from the rooftop and made my way through the very dark corridor of the pensione. ~ Millie I had gotten around to the point where I had forgotten the bad points and I was enjoying the best part of the pensione, which was the roof garden. It was splendid, almost pastoral and romantic as hell, even though the red checkered table cloths were terribly clichéd. Tom had brought some sort of wonderful pasta that I couldn't get enough of and a bottle of Pernod, which I love. I could actually hear crickets chirping over the sounds of the evening traffic three floors below as he made his weary way off down the rickety stairs to the sleeping area. The City itself was sparkling below me with a completely full "hunter's" moon above it. I looked to my far right out over the field of Mars, which was where the legions drilled and all I could see were slums with a few brightly lit signs advertising things like "Kentucky Fried Chicken". I sighed. I looked straight below me, where the finger of the Viminal was pointing, and saw the Forum area all lit by flood lights. Familiar structures like the Coliseum, Constantine's Arch were clearly visible in the distance. The ruins of the Forum itself were lit as well. But all that I could make out was the outline of the Senate House. I knew from my reading that in Roman times the Forum was a very scary place after dark. That was because it was unlit and pitch black. The contrast with the floodlights down there now was ironic. I let out another big sigh and poured myself a final shot of Pernod. I noticed that the bottle was now empty. I even remember thinking, "Did I drink all of that?" ~ Tom I disappeared down the stairs and into the hall with one last glance toward Millie. The hall itself was lit by a single low wattage bulb at the far end of the hall. It didn't provide enough light to see the doors to the rooms so the only way I could locate ours was to run my hand along the wall until I felt the rawhide latch pull. We were in the first room after the stairs. Some hairy denizen of the middle-east was in the next one down. Since I was navigating by touch I almost missed the pull but my fourth finger just grazed the latch string. It was hard to tell in the dark where I was but once I had opened the door I could see our bags on the floor in the reflected light of the moon and the city. I was beat, so I stripped down to my boxers and lay down in the bed on the far end of the room. It was some distance away from the door and nearest the room to us. I figured Millie would not be in any shape to navigate much further than the nearest bed, which was right next to the door. I also assumed that she might be in a minor state of "confusion" once she decided to come off the roof, since it had looked to me like she was planning to kill that entire bottle of licorice flavored aviation fuel. I woke up an indeterminate time later to the sound of somebody walking down the hall. I use that term loosely since the owner of the feet had clearly had more than a little to drink and was occasionally stumbling into the wall. Our drunken neighbor proceeded past our door to the one nearest the downstairs. After a couple of minutes I heard the sound of somebody adjusting covers and pillows, which was easy to discern since the sleeper was actually about a foot away on the other side of a very flimsy wall. I had seen him earlier in the day and he was a late middle aged citizen of some country considerably east of here. He was about my same general configuration but you had to swap "greasy traveling salesman" for "well groomed preppie" in our two cases. I heard clothes and shoes being dropped a loud thump and almost immediately - snoring. Great! ~ Millie I was musing about the historic fate of humanity when the little lady in my head interrupted those weighty thoughts to point out to me that I was DRUNK. I am not the drinker that Tom is and even though it was romantic sitting in that garden drinking and thinking about the past I was also subconsciously aware that I had gotten more than one step over the line sanity-wise. So I stood up, leaving the remains of the dinner and the empty Pastis bottle where they sat on the table, and lurched toward the stairs. I knew that we were in the first room past the landing but it was almost pitch black in there. I took three steps, tripped over the uneven boards underneath me and bounced off the plastic wall like a rubber ball. I stumbled quickly forward a couple more steps and then proceeded to feel my way along the wall again. Sure enough, my hand felt the latch and then I was in the room. It was dark in there but from the ambient light coming in through the one window I could see my bed directly in front of me. I knew that Tom was sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room and I didn't want to wake him up. I mainly didn't want him to discover how drunk I was. So I slipped surreptitiously out of all of my clothes and climbed furtively into bed. I was almost immediately either asleep or unconscious. It was hard to tell. ~ Tom Two hours later I was awakened by the sound of the neighbor's door opening and closing again. My first thought was WTF, if there is going to be a parade in and out of that room I am going to move to one of the other rooms and Millie, who can sleep through salvos of 16 inch guns, can just stay here. The footsteps next door moved over to the bed and stopped. After a short hesitation there was the sound of clothing hitting the floor and the creak of bedsprings as a much heavier person eased into the bed. Then silence. I started to drift back to sleep when I heard the sound of flesh stroking flesh. That sound brought me instantly awake. I thought I heard a whispered "not here baby", followed by a whiny "I'm tired" and a fairly distinct "stop it!!" Which was a little out of line with that I understood about the techniques of Roman whores? What followed were ahhhhs and gasps and then a louder, "DON'T!" That last exclamation was followed by loud slurping noises and a frantic intake of breath that could have been heard across at least two of the seven hills. Then there was the sound of a knee hitting the wall and three very rapid-fire "OH GODS!" Rising in intensity ... followed by the distinctive squishy sounds of a very wet pussy being stoked. I could tell all of this because I was maybe one foot from the happy couple, with a virtual piece of paper in between. Since I was in possession of both pulse and blood pressure, as well as a, rapidly expanding cock, I got a good grip on old Lucifer in anticipation of the live floor show to follow. And the people next door didn't disappoint. There was the sound of legs moving restlessly in the bed and the woman began slow and very deep breathing, growing louder in noise and passion. The rapid breathing climaxed and I DO mean climaxed in a lingering groan and the, "just finished a marathon in record time" hyperventilating of a major orgasm. In short, the woman came like a freight train, thrashing, kicking and loudly moaning. ~ Millie I had only been asleep for a short time when Tom decided to get amorous. I had sort of expected it since it had been almost three days since we last had sex. He just slipped into bed behind me and began stroking my flank from hip down to knee. He must have been planning it while he was lying down here waiting for me, because I woke up completely to the feeling of a very hot and wet mouth planted squarely on my pussy. That shot my pulse and respiration from blissfully sleeping to wild woman in about three seconds flat. I normally don't let him spend much time down there because whenever he does that to me I instantly have to have him in me. But I was vaguely aware that we were not alone up here and I was trying to calm things down in order to keep from entertaining the guy in the next room. That resolve lasted exactly as long as it took for him to move from torturing me with his mouth to sliding his big thing into me. I wanted him with every fiber in my body so he didn't have to do much stoking of the boiler before I had one of those orgasms that you would like to set on a shelf and reminisce about in your golden years. Of course the little devil just kept pounding me and I was beginning to move from "coming" to a new state of total abandon. The little lady in my head shrugged and said, "To hell with quiet". My eyes rolled up in my head and I rocked my hips up and latched my legs around his ass to get every inch of him inside me. I threw my head back and began to gasp and moan loudly as he continued in his quest to work me up to a state of arousal that I hadn't felt in quite a while. ~ Tom The moaning went on for almost a minute when it suddenly occurred to me that whoever it was in there sounded exactly like Millie, who was asleep in the bed on the other side of the room. Or was she?! The room was dark and in my drowsy state it had never dawned on me to check whether she had actually come in. I snapped my head around and there was her bed, as carefully made up as it was when we arrived. Meanwhile the guy on the other side of the wall was pounding away like a blacksmith with a white hot horseshoe. And the sound of wet pussy, and the animal grunts and moans that accompanied his work told me that the horseshoe was indeed white hot and absolutely enjoying the attention. What Happens in Rome - A Love Story Never mind the fact that the wild sex noises were turning me on to the nth degree, I absolutely had to confirm that it was my wife getting ravaged and not somebody the dude had just picked up on the street. So I shot out the door clad only in my boxers and, surreptitiously opened the door of the next room. I didn't want to disturb anybody in case it wasn't who I thought it was. But sure enough, in the very dim light I could see her with her beautiful legs wrapped tightly around the hairiest ass I had ever seen. The ass itself was plunging in an out with machinelike efficiency. Her eyes were wide open but sightless, rolled up in her head so that only the whites were showing. The pungent smell of aroused girl and alcohol was pervasive and overpowering. She was moaning, and gasping under the power fucking she was getting and as I began to focus in on the whole totally alarming event her hands, which were tightly gripping the sheets, turned to claws and she began to shriek Oh God! Oh God! Ohhhhhhhh God! I'm coooooming! And she started to buck wildly under her ravisher. That made her huge tits which were pooled out on her chest, quiver in every direction at the same time. It was a sight to make any mortal man breathless. The force of that orgasm would have finished me off. But this guy was made of sterner stuff. All he did was turn her over, bury her head in the pillow and drag her big, round, very muscular buns into the air and start fucking her doggy style. The Millie I knew would have stopped the proceedings at that point, since she doesn't like it rough. But this Millie was lost in lust and so out of control that she deeply bowed her back, raised her butt and squashed her giant pillow-like jugs harder into the bed as she began vigorously pushing back loudly hissing Oh Yesssss! Fuck ME!! MORE! MORE! HARDER! DEEPER!!! ~ Millie The contraction powering my next orgasm was nuclear driven. I will come like that once in a while but this was one of the top ten for sheer animal force. I clamped down on him and had machine gun-like contractions. Normally there is a period of quivering and shaking after I come like that but Tom was in an uncharacteristically rough mood and without so much as breaking stride he just flipped me over and buried my face in the pillow. I had not been fucked like that since my wildest days with my college boyfriend, who is a pro linebacker now. I wasn't sure I liked it. But at the same time I was so out of control that I had to have him deeper inside me. Meanwhile the little lady in my head was fanning herself and whispering in a very judgmental tone, "Get yourself under control you slut or you are going to blow all of the circuit breakers in your head again". ~ Tom I was now in a classic rock and a hard place. If I interrupted those two intensely fucking people the fuckee was going to immediately find out two very unwelcome things. First and most critically important, she was going to find out that the guy fucking her wasn't ME!! Second she was going to discover that the guy who was ACTUALLY fucking her was an itinerant and very hairy salesman from somewhere in the former People's Democratic Republic of Yugoslavia!! Those two inescapable facts created a major ethical dilemma that begged for an immediate "selfless" decision, damn any infidelity implications. I was certain beyond the shadow of the doubt that Millie had made one basic and very reasonable mistake. She was drunk and because it was hard to navigate up there anyhow, she had gone to sleep in the wrong room. Only to have what she thought was her husband wake her up in the middle of the night with sex on his mind. The fact that she knew we were sleeping in different beds just made the error more understandable and forgivable. And it was hard to blame the guy. He had come home from what smelled like a hard night of drinking to find the sexiest woman in the world nude in his bed. Nobody from a culture that doesn't have a mess of Puritans hanging from its family tree could ever say "no" to those huge, beautiful naked tits. He must have thought it was Christmas, or whatever the equivalent was in his home village. Understanding as much as a simple-minded male can about the female psyche, I had a pretty good idea about how much therapy I would have to pay for if Millie suddenly discovered that she was being ravished by a bald, perspiring, middle aged Sasquatch. And more selfishly I had some idea about how that would totally mess up the dynamics of our happy marriage, long-term. And I couldn't imagine what it would do to her if she EVER found out that she had just come twice for a traveling Bosnian salesman. It was just inconceivable that I would ever allow her to be hurt like that. That simple fact led to an inescapable conclusion. Above all things I had to ensure that she never found out the truth! Ergo, no matter how much sheer jealousy I was feeling at the point and it was almost killing me, the most selfish thing I could do was interrupt the proceedings to challenge the guy to pistols at dawn. Things had just progressed too far too fast at this point and so the best I could hope for was that I could redeem the situation for her. She gets so involved with the fuck that she will frequently pass out for a short time after a strong orgasm. That was what I was praying would happen in this case. So I resolved to grit my teeth and await further developments. Of course, I would also be lying if I didn't tell you that my excited little friend was struggling to get out of my pants, because I was seeing her in action as an uninvolved observer. I'm sure that that is the reason why couples make recordings of themselves having sex. I will concede that the idea for that recording usually comes from the male half of the population, since we are the ones who keep the internet porn sights humming day and night. But I now had a single unique chance to actually see what I had only experienced up to this point. Millie's sheer physical strength, incredible depth of passion and total commitment to her own satisfaction was an incomparable show. All men know that, like the dance, it is the actions of the female that make the act of sex remarkable, or mundane. Millie was putting on the sort of bravura performance that would have drawn rave reviews at the Bolshoi. That is, if that place put on live sex shows. And thanks to her frantically gyrating hips I could tell that our new, acquaintance was quickly getting around to the place he had been trying to get to for over a half hour, which was own orgasm. The resulting "Arrrrrrghhhh!!!" probably cracked the ceiling tiles in the Vatican, while the guy buried himself balls deep in my very receptive and violently bucking wife. His unloading in her put her on a new pinnacle of shuddering, frenzied shaking, screaming, and lustful moaning; he held that rigid orgasmic embrace for what seemed like an hour while he filled her up. With each of his spasms she would shriek and convulse with ecstasy. Finally, she passed out cold, stretched face down on the bed, as I had expected her to. ~ Mille The sensations were getting too much for me to bear. I had been out of control this way before with Tom and he knows that sometimes I just have to shut down in order to save my sanity. That moment was rapidly approaching. The little lady in my head had her hand on the circuit breaker when Tom finally shot off inside me. He was at my deepest point when he did that and I felt the force of the huge load of hot sperm like it was going to end up somewhere in my stomach. He shot several times and I shrieked at each pulse. The little lady in my head was tut-tutting about how I was going to wake up the guy next door, the family downstairs,and maybe even the dead. But I didn't care at that point. My heart rate had hit the red line and I couldn't seem to be able to breath. I felt myself shriek one last time, then everything exploded in a giant contraction and the little lady in my head threw all of the circuit breakers. The next thing I knew it was morning. ~ Tom The guy slowly withdrew from her abruptly dead body. He looked very drunk and confused as he started for the door. I ducked behind the door frame as he staggered off down the hall to clean up. As soon as he disappeared into the gloom at the end of the hall, I scooped Millie off the bed. She was out cold but she is so feather light, even with those mammoth jugs, that she was easy to carry. The bed itself was a total loss, bodily fluids everywhere, most of which had drained out of her. My only thought as I whisked my thoroughly unconscious wife around the corner and back into our room was "good luck to you my man!" At least he had just gotten the fucking of his life and there were still spare rooms up there that he could borrow. I knew that if I ever wanted to have sex again I would have to dispose of the evidence. Using the towels in the room, I cleaned her up as best I could. From the shrieking and the general condition of her pussy I was certain that she was going to remembered that she had been fucked. But I was already warming up the "surprising night of overwhelming passion" story in the bull-pen. She had clearly drunk all of the Pernod before she came down and I doubted that she would remember minor details such as "it wasn't actually me". That is exactly what came to pass. The guy next door checked out early. So he was nowhere to be seen. And when Millie finally dragged her totally abused and hung over body out of bed to a glorious Roman morning there was no other culprit in the entire upstairs except me. ~ Millie I came to with the sun shining on my face. I cringed from the sheer pain of the light in my eyes. My head hurt, my mouth felt like the bottom of a bird cage and I thought that my poor pussy was going to never stop throbbing. Tom was looking at me with a totally self-satisfied grin, and I might add that he should have had one after ravishing me as thoroughly as he had done last night. He said, "Feeling better?" I answered him with prolonged groan and then threw up in the bucket that he had kindly placed next to the bed. I swore I would never drink alcohol again. He said, "You were incredible last night, I have never felt so much passion with you." I said, "That's what you get for sneaking up on me in the middle of the night". I said, "Was I too loud, did the guy next door hear me?" He looked at me oddly exceptionally lovingly and said, "I'm sure the guy next door heard you and I am also pretty certain that he didn't mind". I said, "Maybe I should go next door and apologize for waking him up." He looked amused and said, "He checked out an hour ago and if you were to apologize to every creature who heard you last night you would probably have to include most of this part of the city". The little lady in my head laughed and said, "Just don't look any of them in the eye on the way out of town". I was also very, very sticky. So cautiously I dragged my beaten up and hung-over body out from underneath the covers, put on a wrap and made my way wearily down to the shower. A long hot shower, four aspirins and a cup of coffee, which that wonderful man had scored for me from the place across the street, later I was feeling a little bit less like I was going to die. I dried my hair and without even putting on makeup I dressed in an old red V-neck sweater which I love. I poured myself into a pair of skin tight jeans and pulled on my traveling boots, calf high and four inch heels. Tom had settled up and brought the car around front and all I had to do was scurry past the family carrying my little ditty bag, throw it in the boot and we made our escape south. The warm sun on my face was making me feel very content and very much in love with the wonderful man who was sitting next to me. ~ Tom Once she had finished the shower and all of her other things necessary to get her back to joining the living, I ransomed the car from the guy who was guarding it. He and the other Italian males in his family were treating me like I had suddenly been promoted to soccer-god status. Having been a witness to the same performance that they had heard last night I had a good idea why they were treating me that way. We made our way back south through Rome, on the modern road that sits on top of the old Appian Way and joined up with the A1 south of the ring road around the city. From there the drive down to Salerno in a delightful Italian spring day was glorious.