(NOTE: forgive the typos,random Capital letters and the poor english, it's not my native language and i wrote It all on my smartphone)

It's early morning outside. Might be the birds chirping, or the warm sunlight filtering thru the shutters, drawing Lines in the floor.

I left you and your soft breath sleeping in the bed, so messy yet so perfect, the sheets draped on your sleeping figure like some renaissance canvas. I can't help but let go this stream of thoughts as i walk my way thru the corridor towards one of the bathrooms, after all this house Is so big you might confuse yourself between calling it country house or villa. I still wonder what the odds are, After all: having your way with someone else's wife could happen,but how cool Is doing It on other people's vacation house? The same people who are smiling at me from pictures hanging on the walls, those printed, unsuspecting eyes that won't follow me as i walk naked thru their house.

Cold water in the face is a slap, but suddendly the fresh air of September morning comes in as a caress. As i look at me in the mirror i smile, thinking about those first messages, the first compliments and your first shy nudes you sent,proof It was something new and intriguing to you, a secret escape to break the awfulness of the routine.

"You're a good boy"

The first compliment you made, so pure, honest and innocent, and all the times It came back,this time with a voice broken by pleasure, sometimes thru your teeths clenching a pillow, sometimes shouted in the backseat of my car. Brick after brick we built this complicity, as you unbuttoned your frustrations on being relentlessly ignored by your husband, and as i watch you rejuvinate every time we hooked up.

All steps leading to this weekend in this house,one of the many you work as warden and caretaker. There's light at the other end of the corridor, and the semi closed doors of the rooms give discreet glimpses of what might be coming, since we swore to fuck on every surface possible or die trying.

The luscious stair opens on the dining room, flooded by the sunlight. As i descend, i look upon the remains of the night before like a soldier looks a battlefield where he conquered glory. The big aisle of pillows and carpets is there, along with all the candles, the fruit basket and the glacier where a lonely empty bottle of prosecco floats in what was once ice. Last step, a distract look at the chimney where now is just ash and embers facing the not so distant art decò sofà. I look down,and there It Is, a elongated,sticky stain,running on the floor, a drying testimone of the pinnacle of pleasure, when those lovely brown eyes rolled and you tore your vocal cords by screaming out your pleasure. Few steps and there Is the aisle, still with our clothes scattered like old weapons here and there. I still can picture everything. Your silhouette against the sunset light as you welcomed me, dressed in nothing more than a black silk robe. The pale skin and the curly brown hair, your voluptuous lips opened in a smile,before whispering me to come in. That small chain around your hips,the tiara. A true vision,like a priestess inviting me into her Temple. The time we indulged in foreplay, every single passionate kiss and all the little teasy ones as you let me unveil your firm breast and those puffy nipples, or the spectacle of your Venus mound adorned with a precise strip of fur. The food we consumed like ancient Rome, and the taste of your fluids mixed with the prosecco you poured as i was quenching my thirst and my hunger between your legs. The wet worshipping of my cock, before a tornado of images: you folded under me,legs over my shoulders, nails in my back, asking for more, harder,deeper. The light of the fire and the candles while you were riding me, moaning and shouting, throwing back your head, letting go, savage and passionate. The triumphant moment i grabbed your hips after a first,gentle entry, and went to town claiming your ass like a conqueror. The gran finale,toying on the sofa, your make-up ruined and all messy, giving up to pleasure as you let go for this gran finale, juices flooding everywhere and the hug shortly after with your body shaking from the orgasm, under the mercyful look of Virgin Mary who silently assisted the turning of a haven of peace into the temple of lust.

The kitchen is still, and outside the window some clouds float into the blue sky over the green Tuscan hills. As the espresso pours into the cup i think how about this ten year gap counts nothing when we're togheter, and how we are writing this chapter in both our lives,my sweet Elena. It's not the First and won't be the last. A gentle throat clearing calls me back to reality: she's there,on the door, a lustful smile on her face.

"Are you gonna feed me breakfast, young man?"