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"Why not?"

"It says here that it is common on most Italian beaches for women to sunbathe topless."

"Not me."

"I want to get a nice tan, but not everywhere."

"Connie, with your big ones, you'll certainly turn heads," said the nurse.

"Look who's talking. You think you can hide them under your nurse's uniform," they all laughed.

Two days after school was out, they flew to Rome, then by train to Naples and finally by ferry to the lovely Mediterranean island of Sierra. To be clear, their goal was to leave their virginity behind in Italy.

The home they'd rented was gorgeous, right on the beach with its own private swimming pool.

While Constance and Nurse Alicia went grocery shopping, Gladys and Fran walked along the beach; both wearing shorts and tee shirts.

When they were back together, Gladys reported, "ladies, walking the beach, we saw lots of men."

"Like that article said, men outnumber women six to one. The good news is they're all gorgeous, wearing those skimpy bathing suits."

"Here's the bad news, every guy we saw was in his twenties," Fran added.

"Oh no. We all know we came here for a little romance, right? It's not going to happen. They're boys."

The next night, after recovering from the time change, they walked to one of the beach bars not more than a hundred yards from the house they'd rented. They were dressed in skirts and blouses, age appropriate.

Yes, there were lots of men. Yes, there were lots of twenty-something men.

Late that night, they trudged back home disappointed.

It had been fun; they laughed a lot, and what could be better than sitting under a Mediterranean moon, drinking Italian wine? "Those men sure are gorgeous," Fran mused.

"Everyone more handsome than the next," Alicia said, and the others nodded.

"I think they're almost the same age as some of my senior boys," Connie added.

"Did they even look twice at us?"

Still, they decided to go back the next night. The day was spent on the beach sunbathing and staring at those handsome young men. Staring at the significant bulge their tight swimsuits created. Young men who were ogling topless women. Of course, not those four American women who were not topless.

It was late on that second night that a young Italian man asked Fran McComber to dance. He spoke English very well, and to her surprise as they danced she felt his hand on her ass. Her fifty-three-year-old ass.

His name was Giorgio and Fran had a few glasses of wine. Under 99% of other circumstances, she would have removed his hand. Not tonight. "Signora Francesca, there are lots of girls here, but not many women. You are a lovely woman."

"Thank you, Giorgio. I've never danced with a more handsome man." In her head she was thinking boy. He must have been all of twenty-three. Maybe.

Minutes later, they were walking along the beach, hand-in-hand. Fran found it very romantic. He stopped and took her in his arms. The kiss was not the kiss a boy might give, although Fran didn't have much experience with this, especially when he started using his tongue. Okay, she had no experience. None.

It took her a moment; but soon she caught on. While Giorgio's tongue was busy, his hands, both hands were holding her ass, and he was grinding against her.

She was a virgin, but not naïve. She could feel his hardness against her.

Giorgio led her to a beach chair. They continued to kiss while Fran sat on his lap. She did not resist when he put his hand on her breast and massaged one tit through her blouse and bra.

Her resistance kicked in when Giorgio started unbuttoning her blouse. "Not here, Giorgio." She pushed his hand away.

"Signora Francesca, you didn't say no; you just said not here."

Fran McComber had never done anything like this. It was confusing but she had to admit his hand felt good. She made an instant and irrational decision. "Come with me."

She took him by the hand, walked passed the beach bar, waving to her friends and took him to her room in the house they were renting.

Giorgio's hands were all over her when they were inside her room with the door closed. Now, she didn't resist when he tried to unbutton her blouse. In fact, "Giorgio, let me." Once her blouse was off, his hands were feeling her up through her bra.

"Signora Francesca, they are so beautiful. I can't help myself; I want more." One hand tried to unhook her bra, while the other guided her hand to his crotch. "Feel what you do to me."

Fran had never . . .

On the other hand, Giorgio couldn't figure out how to unhook her bra. Afterall, many girls his age could and did go braless, especially in the summer. She let him try while she explored. Of course, she had an idea what men looked like although she'd never actually seen one and certainly not touched one. She was fifty-three; she was nervous and anxious.

"Here, Giorgio. Let me." With one hand she unhooked her bra. She was a little embarrassed. Thankfully, the room was mostly dark. No man except her doctor had seen them.

As her bra fell off her shoulders, Giorgio's hands did what no man had done before. "Signora, they're lovely." He kissed one then the other.

When his lips and tongue found her nipple, Fran McComber sighed audibly. "Giorgio, you make me feel like I've never felt before." It was true.

Giorgio was confused. He'd fucked numerous girls, and any number told him he'd made them feel like they'd never felt before, but that was while he was fucking them or eating their pussies. But this was an old woman, and he was just feeling up her titties.

Unlike the girls he'd fucked, Fran's tits were soft melons, not the firm tits of those twenty-year-olds. He thought Fran's felt great in his hand and in his mouth.

Her hand was still rubbing his crotch. She wanted to investigate more but wasn't sure how. Giorgio must have read her mind. "Here let me help you."

He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his shorts and pulled his zipper down.

Fran tentatively put her hand inside his open pants. The thin fabric of his underwear gave her a better idea of what he felt like; what a man felt like.

Then, depending how you look at it, it got better. Giorgio took his hand and lifted the band on his underwear. "Try this, Francesca."

She had no idea what to expect when she slid her hand inside his briefs. It was a revelation.

A revelation interrupted as Giorgio's hand slipped under her skirt to her upper thigh. "Please Giorgio, not yet."

"What is it, Signora?"

"I have a confession to make; this is all new to me."

"What? You're . . ."

"Fifty-three-years-old and I never. . ."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. . . would you like me to leave?" Giorgio was thinking, it was still early enough, maybe I have time to find another girl. Although to be fair, it wouldn't be right to call Fran a girl.

"No, no, no, I want you to stay, but for now, I think you've gone far enough. Please stay." Fran guided his hand back to her breasts. Something, a few hours ago, she couldn't imagine doing.

They kissed; they hugged. Giorgio's hands and mouth were all over her titties. He took off his shorts and underwear. Fran's hand found something she'd never experienced before. It was much bigger and harder than she thought it might be. She liked the feeling in her hand.

That was as far as they went tonight. They slept in each other's arms.

In the morning, Fran McComber was awake first. It took her a moment to catch her bearings and remember the name of the boy in her bed. He was handsome she thought; gorgeous. She looked down; she only had her panties on.

Quietly she lifted the blanket and looked: he was naked. Now, she remembered. Remembered how hard he was. It was eye-opening, she smiled to herself.

Her movement must have awakened Giorgio. "Good morning, Signora Francesca. You look even more lovely with the morning sun in your face."

Quickly she pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"I'll be right back." Nonchalantly, like he did not have a care in the world, Giorgio walked to the bathroom.

Just as carefree, he walked back to her bed. This time, she had a frontal view. His manhood seemed to be rising.

Fran took a deep breath and threw back the covers. "Giorgio, thank you for staying. I appreciate your patience."

"I am sure, the wait will be worth it." He came into her arms and his hands found her breasts again. "They're more lovely in the daylight." He kissed them. "But Francesca, don't you think it's unfair that I have lost all my clothes and you . . ."

He reached for the waist band of her panties.

"Ummmmm, I-I-I can do it."

Fran slowly did it but was unsure of herself. "Giorgio, like I said, I've never . . ."

He kissed her on the mouth, and his thumb and forefinger massaged a nipple.

Meanwhile, after throwing her panties aside, she reached for his semi-hard cock. "Giorgio, I had fun playing last night. You know it was a first for me."

"I still find that hard to believe. Are you ready for another first?"

"If you take it slow. Giorgio, you know I'm nervous."

"I promise." He kissed each breast one more time then crawled between Fran's legs.

She was embarrassed. When she tried on the two-piece bikini, Fran noticed that there were unsightly hairs sticking out of the crotch of her swimsuit bottom. She used a razor and scissors to do some trimming. She also noticed some grey hairs down there.

Now, Giorgio would see them. He already knew how old she was; this would just confirm it.

He spread her legs wide. "Signora Francesca, you are beautiful. May I kiss you."

Instinctively, she knew where he wanted to kiss her, but couldn't imagine why?

Twenty minutes later, she knew why. "Francesca," he mumbled, "you have the sweetest pussy," as his tongue played with her inner labia. It was a feeling she'd never experienced before; it was a feeling she want to feel again and again.

Giorgio had fucked a lot of girls; he'd eaten a lot of pussy. If you could eavesdrop on a conversation between two girls who'd been with him, you'd hear something like this.

"Marcella, how was your weekend with Giorgio?"

"Theresa, it was okay' his cock wasn't all that impressive."

"What about his tongue?"

"Oh my, I can't wait until he gives me that tongue again. He's incredible. Theresa, why did you break up with him?"

"Marcella, there must be a hundred girls around here. Giorgio can't help himself; he wants to fuck every one of them. That's not the kind of guy I can be with."

It was true, but of all the women Giorgio had been with, none had a pussy as tasty as this old American lady. He kept eating, and Fran kept moaning.

Later if you told her that her hips and ass were moving, she'd deny it. It was all involuntary and she was in such a state, she had no idea. All she knew was that she wanted it to continue.

Then it got better. Giorgio's tongue started massaging her clitoris. It was engorged. He found it about average size but far more sensitive than any girl he'd been with. "OOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOOH, GIORGIO, OOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOH, GIORGIO. I'VE NEVER . . ." Fran was loud, very loud.

Then she started squealing, bucking, humping, wrapping her legs around his head.

The house the women rented had four bedrooms, all on the second floor. The three other women, Connie, Gladys and Alicia couldn't help but hear her. Almost simultaneously they came out of their rooms wondering what all the noise was about.

For a moment they thought Fran was hurt or being hurt. They started for her door. "No wait. I'm sure she has a man in there."

"And?"

"I think they're doing it."

"Is that what it sounds like?"

"I don't know, but I don't think we should disturb them."

"Me neither, good for her. Maybe we should take a walk along the beach."

"Good idea."

TO BE CONTINUED

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