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If he has no confidence, she?s not going to want him.Dominick arrived at his building, feeling defeated. Itseemed that life was constantly fucking with him. He washappy that he was home and that he wouldn?t have the facethe cold world until tomorrow. Dominick opened the frontdoor, and then stopped at the mailbox. Great. Phone bill.He didn?t know why he had a phone. No one ever called him.Electric bill. Cable bill. Dominick groaned as he made hisway up the stairs. When he got to his apartment, he noticeda package in front of his door. That?s weird, Dominickthought. I wasn?t expecting anything. He bent down to pickit up. It was addressed to him and everything. Dominickshrugged his shoulders, unlocked the door and entered hismodest one bedroom apartment.He turned on the lights and headed straight to hisrefrigerator for a nice cold one. Too many years of downingbeers had also added to the girth in Dominick?s midsection. After retrieving his beer, Dominick headed to hiscouch. He let the. I suspected she would get to keep close to three-quarters. Our longest drive was Sunday, from Milan to Rome. We had decided to leave a day early to give ourselves some extra time in Rome. Neither of us had ever been there before and we wanted to discover it together. It was an almost 600 kilometer drive. Six hours, all of it motorway and most of it tolled. Driving in Italy wasn’t cheap. My Laguna kept pace with the 120 km speed limit without effort, but I was constantly being passed by cars running 30 or 40 kph faster. I had set the cruise on 130 kph, but there were times when I thought I was dawdling by the way I was being passed. Italians like to drive fast. We stayed at the Residenza Cellini, and again the travel agent’s choice was excellent. Not a large hotel, but very nice with an outstanding staff and wonderful antique furnishings. The concierge helped us book a guided tour for Monday morning and recommended a restaurant three blocks from the hotel. We were situated right in.
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“Time for what?” “You’ll see,” I said smiling as my hand brushed the hem of her skirt as it landed on her thigh. Following your directions, we drove through town, my hand brushing against the lacy fabric of your panties. You slid down the seat until I could actually see them, and what my fingers were doing to them. You moaned as you put your hand over mine, pressing my fingers into the dampening material. “Unh Unh,” I said as I pulled away, removing your hand. “You just sit there like a good little girl and enjoy the ride.” Then I returned my hand, only this time I slid it inside the soaked material. My fingers slipped by your trimmed bush before coming in contact with the warm, wet flesh of your pussy. My fingers danced up and down the length of your slit as you squirmed, trying to get my fingers inside. “Good little girls don’t let a man do this,” you said. So I rubbed a little harder, feeling your clit as well as more moisture. More moans and a whispered, “Please,” made me look.

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