Story Excerpt

Fottimi Nel Culo

The sun’s a bitch, burning down on my back as I’m hunched over her in the middle of this goddamn vineyard. Sweat stings my eyes, dripping off my chin, and the dirt’s rough under my knees, grinding into my skin. Rows of grapevines stretch out around us, their heavy, sweet smell mixing with the raw musk of her body and our heat. The distant farmhouse is a speck through the leaves—family’s probably still stuffing their faces with lunch—but right now, it’s just me and her, hidden in this tangle of vines. I’m balls-deep in her ass, thrusting hard, each slam of my hips making her whole frame shake against the gnarled wooden post she’s gripping like a lifeline.

She’s fucking screaming, her voice ragged and piercing, slicing through the still air. “Ai, ai, ai! Sì, cazzo, così! In culo, non smettere!” I don’t catch all of it—my Italian’s shit—but I know she’s telling me to keep going, to fuck her ass raw. Her round, juicy cheeks bounce with every thrust, perfect and full, the kind of ass you can’t look away from, all smooth olive skin glistening with sweat. I grab a handful, squeezing hard, my fingers digging into that plush flesh, and she gasps, arching back into me like she can’t get enough. Her asshole’s tight, gripping me like a vacuum hose, every move slick with spit and need, and I’m grunting with the effort, my cock throbbing inside her.

“Fuck, you’re loud,” I pant, my voice rough, barely above a growl. “Someone’s gonna hear us, you crazy bitch.” I glance around, half-expecting to see some nosy uncle stomping through the vines, but there’s nothing—just her wild laugh, low and reckless, vibrating through her chest. She twists her head to look at me over her shoulder, her dark eyes burning with something feral, her full lips parted as she breathes heavy. Her hair’s a mess, thick dark waves sticking to her neck with sweat, framing that face—sharp cheekbones, a little scar on her chin, fucking gorgeous in a way that’s been screwing with my head since I got here.

“No stop,” she snaps back, her broken English thick with accent. “Fuck me harder. No babies, capisci? Only culo!” She slaps her own ass for emphasis, the sound cracking through the air, and I damn near lose it right there. I can see the dark, curly hair on her pussy peeking out as her dress is bunched up around her waist, wild and untamed, a stark contrast to that smooth, plump backside I’m buried in. It’s fucking primal, that hairy snatch untouched while I’m wrecking her other hole, and the sight of it—wet, glistening, just out of reach—drives me nuts even though she won’t let me near it.

“Yeah, I get it,” I mutter, gripping her hips tighter, my thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass. “No fucking babies. Just this tight little ass of yours.” I ram into her harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing, and she cries out again, her nails clawing at the vine post, splintering the wood. Her body’s a work of art under me—curves for days, her waist cinching in just right before flaring out to those hips, that ass, all of it trembling in time as I fuck her like I’m trying to break her. Her skin’s hot to the touch, slick with our mixed sweat, and I can’t help but lean down, biting at the back of her neck, tasting the salt on her.

“Più forte, cazzo!” she growls, pushing back against me, meeting every thrust with her own hunger. Her voice is pure need, and it’s got me spiraling, my rhythm getting sloppy as I feel that edge creeping up. “Break me, fuck, break me!” she adds, her English jagged but clear enough, and I let out a harsh laugh, my hands sliding up under her dress to grip her tits through the fabric—full, heavy, no bra, nipples hard as rocks against my palms.