Impossibly glamorous

I didn’t think I’d ever report that I think my cunt needs a rest, but half way through our holiday I just felt just that. I suggested a day trip.

If you can imagine Bond Street with pavement cafes and sunshine but even more expensive, that is pretty much what it’s like on Capri. Each of us bought a few bits and pieces, but it was so that we could let slip easy comments that would imply we were globetrotting sophisticates when we got home rather than serious shopping. My credit card couldn’t stretch much further than that.

The three of us were sitting drinking coffee in a little square, trying our best to look urbane. My pussy still felt a little tender, and I reckon that Lora’s cunt felt the same after being fucked by Marco and Francisco on the stone bench. And after Alice’s bombshell, well, I only could guess.

It was then we spotted one of those impossibly glamorous Italian women. She was probably in her late forties and was immaculately dressed in a pencil skirt and matching bolero jacket, cream blouse that showed a plump cleavage and lovely stiletto heels. She had an understated but very sexy walk and her curvy hips were drawing a lot of attention from various men, big sunglasses and even bigger hair. She looked like Sophia Lauren in her prime and she would have stopped traffic if there’d been any.

What intrigued me was that she was followed by a well-dressed man about our age who was obviously not her husband, or indeed her son. He was carrying all of her bags – and there were a great many of them – and he appeared to be devoted to her. I wondered what their relationship was, and I’m ashamed to say that I found myself questioning whether it was so kind of professional arrangement. I say ashamed because there was no reason on Earth why she shouldn’t have had such a devoted younger boyfriend, but whatever the dynamic was between them, I think the guy would have been very lucky to have her sucking his dick.