My wife, Angie, and I have been married for just about twenty years, and I had decided it was time to give her the anniversary trip of her dreams. We had seen the world together, taking incredible trips to unbelievable locations, but for years she had dreamed about renting a villa on the Italian coastline near Puglia and living out there for a summer. We both own and run our own separate businesses, so taking a few months away had never really been an option. I spent my twenties and thirties building my law firm and Angie ran her own skincare brand. I had hired the appropriate staff and made the necessary preparations in order to take a 2 month leave, and Angie had done the same. I secured a beautiful villa that rested on a cliff side looking out at the Adriatic Sea. I hired a staff, a couple of maids, a masseuse and a private chef. The plan was to completely unplug from our lives back in Manhattan and take the time to rekindle our relationship and fall in love all over again. Plus, there was an added benefit that our daughter Rebecca would be doing a European tour vacation with her two girlfriends as a graduation gift, and we had made arrangements for the three of them to route there travel in order to spend a weekend with us in Puglia.
It was day before our flight out of New York when Angie called me with some bad news.
"Honey, I don't know how to say this..." she seemed upset but also distracted. "Mini Talbert...THE Mini Talbert...has agreed to come on as the celebrity face of the company."
"That's incredible darling!" I exclaimed. Angie had been competing in a market with the likes of Rihanna and Hailey Bieber and Kylie Jenner, and she had said for years that the only way to break into the next, elite tier of skin care and feminine care product companies was to sign on an elite household name - Mini Talbert was easily one of the fastest rising names in American culture, so this was a big opportunity for Angie's companies.
"Yes...it is...but..."
"But what? This is fantastic!" I added.
"Honey, Mini and her team want to fly into town on Thursday and we'll need to be all hands on deck for the next few months while we build out the marketing and rollout for something like this. Babe...I can't do this trip!"
I felt that in my gut. It hurt. This was important to me. When we first met, it was electric. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. We craved each other all day, every day. When Rebecca came along, the flame started to flicker out - not completely, but it certainly wasn't burning as bright. Life got in the way. My firm took off. We landed some massive clients that kept me in the office for many late nights where I'd come home to a house already asleep. Her company took off as well and she did a lot of traveling and needed to spend more and more time with her team. We'd take little one-week trips here and there to try and reconnect with each other, but we were always attached to our phones and emails and it just never felt like we were going to get back to what was most important...each other. This trip was designed for her and I to completely unplug from all the distractions and focus solely on our love and our marriage. This was a devastating phone call for me.
"I...." I paused. "I understand Angie. This is huge."
"I've got to go. I'm so sorry. I love you!" And she hung up.
That night, we talked it over and we made the decision that I would still go on the trip and she would try and make it out for as many days as she could, even if it meant flying back and forth. I had a library of books I wanted to read, and I didn't want to waste this opportunity - not to mention the money I had spent on it that I couldn't get back. In addition, we promised Rebecca that she and her friends could come crash at the villa and hang by the pool and enjoy Puglia in style, and I didn't want to take that away from them.
The next day, I boarded a flight alone and headed to Italy.
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Upon arriving at the villa, I was blown away at the complete and utter beauty of this place. The house was way too big for just me, although it did have living quarters for the staff I hired. It was a 5 bedroom masterpiece. Three floors that layered down the edge of the cliff side. It was an architectural marvel. Each floor had a massive balcony that looked out over the water, and the lowest level's balcony included an infinity pool and jacuzzi that spilled over the edge, seemingly into the ocean below. A long wooden staircase led down the cliff side to a small private sandy beach. The house was peak luxury with every unnecessary amenity you could think of. And while it was beautiful and breathtaking, it was lonely and quiet.
I spent the first couple weeks working on getting through my first two books, lounging in the pool and swimming in the ocean every morning. Each day that went by made it harder and harder for me to accept the reality that this would end in a couple months. How could a person leave this place? My chef, Matteo, would have something incredible made for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and always had a spread of fresh fruit and cheeses for afternoon snacks. He was becoming a friend and he was slowly teaching me little bits of Italian - which I was very clearly butchering.
While the house did feel lonely, there was, however, one bit of company that I enjoyed every afternoon. The masseuse I hired, Elena, would come collect me from the pool or the sauna or wherever I happened to be at the moment, and lay me down on a very relaxing massage table in a gorgeously designed relaxation spa room in the house. She was stunningly beautiful. Tall, long legs, dark hair, with big blue eyes you could get lost in. Her body was in peak fitness, like an Olympian. The first day, she gave me a wonderful massage and in her horribly broken English, tried to ask me about why I was here alone and why my wife was not joining. The second day, knowing Angie was not going to be coming, the massage came with a very lovely handjob at the end. I didn't ask for it, and she didn't ask for permission...she just flipped me over, massaged my chest and legs, and then sensually pumped the cum right out of me. There was a palpable unspoken bond and agreement that she was there to take care of me, and she likely knew at the end of the two months, I would take care of her generously. She wasn't wrong. The third day, that handjob quickly turned warm and wet and I opened my eyes to see my cock all the way down her throat. After that...as you could imagine...my afternoon massages consisted of a brilliantly relaxing massage followed by her stripping down and riding my cock. Maybe it was the fact that she spoke zero English, but again, there were no words spoken about this. She just did it. She knew how to ask me if I wanted my massage harder or softer, and knew the words for the parts of my body I'd want her to focus on, but when the massage would end, she took it upon herself to take care of me sexually. After the handjob, and after the blowjob, when it came time to fuck me, she never even asked me to put on a condom or mention if she was on birth control. She just climbed aboard and rode me until I came, filling herself up. Then she'd climb off, clean me up and that was that. She would let me go down on her if I wanted, but she seemed to want this to be about me, not her. I would hear her moan and scream, and I would feel her cum, but it seemed like that was just an added benefit for her if it happened...not something she was looking for me to give her each time. The transactional feeling of our little masseuse/client relationship was honestly refreshing, and given the resentment I was clearly harboring towards Angie for bailing on our trip, I felt very little guilt about stepping out on our marriage in this way. I convinced myself this was somehow not cheating...don't ask me how.
The third week, Rebecca and her two friends, Julie and Faye, arrived. They had spent the last few weeks in Paris and the south of France and parts of Italy, and were eager for a little pause and relaxation on Dad's dime in a luxury villa. I, having spent the last couple weeks surrounded by only my Italian staff (and overly caring masseuse), was more than happy to oblige them.
We spent the first couple days lounging by the pool, enjoying the incredible feasts that Matteo would make for us and drinking absurd amounts of fine, Italian wine. I figured, it was legal here and they were adults...what did I care if my 18 year old daughter had a littlee fun in Italy. The girls would take turns with Elena, always coming back from the spa glowing and relaxed. A part of me wondered if they were getting the same treatment I was, which made me laugh inside thinking about. Wouldn't that be something?
These girls were the absolute definition of hot and sexy. Julie was the blonde with zero body fat and fake tits. Her parents, old money New York wealth, had gifted her a new set of breasts a couple years ago. At the time it happened, I remembered rolling my eyes listening to her and Rebecca talking about it. Now, however, I quite enjoyed the view by the pool and the way they burst out of her way too small bikini. Faye was the redhead - a little more full around the places you want...not crazy skinny, but definitely not fat. She had grown into a massive set of naturally massive breasts - DD? Bigger? I didn't know, but they were a wild sight to see. She always had her curly hair up in a ponytail and her adorable freckles added something extra to her sexiness. She was very much like an hourglass - massive in the breasts, somehow small in the stomach, with a juicy ass that would constantly walk around the house in nothing but a small strip of bikini fabric that maybe only covered her asshole. And then there was my beautiful Rebecca.
Rebecca looked just like her mom when Angie was her age. She was a dancer, and kept her body firm and in shape. She was stunningly beautiful, like a Hollywood starlet, but also carried herself in such a way as to almost be the hidden gem in the library...covered up in a too-big sweatshirt and glasses, head in a book. I loved Rebecca with all my heart and was so proud of the woman she was becoming. However, on this trip, seeing her alongside her friends by the pool, she was no longer a hidden gem. She knocked the other two out of the park with the way she could rock her outfits and slips and bikinis. She had a new look each day, each somehow more stunning than the last. The way she held her body as she laid by the pool...it was as if she knew how to seduce the world. It was a view of Rebecca I had not seen before - free from the concrete jungle of home and the stress of school and extracurriculars. This was Rebecca, the free, young spirit. I liked this version of my daughter.
That night, Matteo made us a traditional Italian Sunday feast accompanied by endless bottles of delicious wines. Every time he came out from the kitchen to refill our glasses, Julie and Faye would bat their eyes at him and they would smirk and flirt, and Matteo seemed to thoroughly enjoy the attention he was receiving. After the feast and after enough booze, I was feeling extra fun and frisky and told Matteo to go grab some swim trunks from my closet and enjoy the pool and jacuzzi with Julie and Faye - who had been joking with him to do so all evening.
"I might come down later" Rebecca said to the girls as they skipped off downstairs to the pool. "Ok if I hang with you dad?"
"Of course my love" I told her. "How about I open a special bottle, since it's just going to be us?"
"Oooh! What do you have?" Her eyes lit up. She had learned a lot about wine from me over the years, and I would always let her taste a bottle that I'd open at home.
"Well, I bought of few bottles of Lefite-Rothschild Bordeaux...2018...for your mom and I for our anniversary. But since she's not here to enjoy it, why don't I enjoy it with the most beautiful girl in the world, my lovely Rebecca."
She blushed, smiled and leaned over to kiss my cheek.
"I love you dad. You're so sweet. I'm sorry mom bailed on your big trip. I know you were looking forward to it."
"Well I'm here aren't I? I'm having a great time, especially now that you've shown up. I just wish you didn't have to leave."
An adorable pout hit her lips accompanied by a, "Oh dad...You're the best. Mom doesn't know what she's missing." And she kissed my cheek again.
