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Being born in the late 40’s has some big disadvantages but definitely some interesting sides which Carlo Prati experienced with the years.
When you are 18 years old and you are in the 1963, you can see the industrial boom exploding in your home country, everything changes and the wealth arriving even in the big popular condominium where you live.
His father bought the first car in that year; it was a little one, ‘Utilitaria’ was the definition of the type of that machine and effectively was nothing fancy but still, it had four wheel, four seats and it gave you the joy of a ride to the lakes on the Sundays.
Carlo was living with his family in a two bedrooms apartment, he was forced to share his room with the grandmother, a woman with a strong character who took care of the daughter by herself after the separation from the husband.
It was unusual in Italy during the 40’s be a separated woman, divorce wasn’t allowed and the Carlo’s grandma had taken the decision after years spent with a man addicted to the women, gambling and especially alcohol; She was coming from a family where the father was an alcoholic himself, beating the wife and mistreating the daughter, therefore running away was the only way to build a decent life.
The relationship with the 68 years old woman wasn’t easy for Carlo as well. He had just started to stay out a little bit later in the night, his mom wasn’t complaining too much and his father was definitely more permissive.
The biggest problem was the grandma. He could be silent as a thief when coming back at midnight, maximum time allowed anyway, but she was always awake, waiting for his return and ready for a formal complain toward the poor boy.
‘You don’t have any respect for the other people living in this house’, was the classical beginning of the discussion. ‘You should be ashamed of your behavior, how can you be sharp at school when you act like this’, those words were the same even if it was Saturday.
Carlo was used to this daily sermon but still he was always experiencing a uncomfortable feeling.
The Prati’s family included a little dog, the favorite of the matronly woman. He was a happy puppy, jumping and barking, always ready for a walking in the park.
The father had brought back from a friend of him living in the countryside when Carlo was 13 but the dog wasn’t grown too much, still a short legs, with a rusty colored furry body.
As almost all the teenagers, the boy wasn’t paying too many attentions to him apart from some particular occasions.
The parents of Carlo were both working and his grandmother was in charge for all the house, something she probably loved to do but even something which she was always ready to complain about.
She never missed the opportunity to express at the ‘husband of her daughter’ her disappointment for his low interest in the family’s affairs and the fact that take care of Carlo was a big duty.
The life in this matriarcal democracy had modified some mental structures in Carlo’s mind.
He was a healthy man, 6′ tall, broad shoulders and chest (of course coming from the mother’s side as proudly his nanny used to say), handsome and with a full developed manhood; He had the opportunity to verify his over-average dimension during the post-training shower sessions at school, he wasn’t exceptionally gifted but endowed with a thick and long penis, uncommon through his comrades.
During those years, it wasn’t easy to have physical encounters with the girls, apart from some petting.
At that time, the biggest sexual relationship was with your right hand in the bathroom, occasionally supported by a black and white ‘over-18 man only’ magazine, where the maximum expression of the nudity was a female bare chest but always on legs clad in stockings with garters.
That was the hot spot for Carlo, he loved nylons and female feet and he used to climax fantasizing on those black or tan-brown shiny stockings.
There were just two points on his sex scoreboard and the most recent one izmir escort was only a easy penalty kick.
Carlo met this girl at the hotel on the Italian sea-coast where he used to spend all the summers with his family.
She was from Germany, Mannheim, as for her girl friend accommodated in the same hotel. He and his friend Osvaldo took some time before to find the courage to speak with them.
Actually, the families were probably the thread allowing the meeting.
They began to go out together, on the beach during the day and for an ice cream in the evenings. She wasn’t exactly a top model but, for a 16 years old boy, that was the best he could find.
During those years, the beach huts were still made of wood and the only other recreation of Carlo was to spy on the women changing their clothes in them. There were holes in the dividing walls, in some cases more than in a slice of swiss cheese, and through them it was possible to peep the occupant of the adjacent cabin.
It could happen to fall upon some nice girl but Carlo was already developing his Gerontophiliatic fetishism.
He was sexually aroused by a significantly older woman and, as soon as an over 50 years old female was entering the other cabin, his remarkable dick was quickly growing in the swimsuit.
The furtive and unclear sight through the hole of those saggy breasts, flaccid bellies and gray bushes was making him beat his meat feverishly until a liberating ejaculation was erupting on the planks of the shelter.
The occasion for his first interpersonal contact with a representative of the opposite sex was on a trip by pedal boat. The German girl expressed the desire to get a ride on one of them and Carlo was the other cyclist.
They reached the open sea, where you see the beach umbrellas like little matches and the people is indistinct.
The girl bent on him and smacked a kiss on his lips, he answered happy, the mouths opened and the tongues interweave.
Carlo put a hand on the little breasts of the girl who didn’t make any effort to escape from the touch. His male organ was throbbing and, unconsciously, he took her hand to put it on his penis. The girl moved the hand inside the elastic belt of his swimsuit, she lowered it and grabbed the shaft of his cock.
Carlo acted in the same way, putting his hand in her bikini’s pants and sliding a finger in her bush. She moaned and pushed his finger inside the slid of her womanhood. He tickled her clitoris and she stroke the dick, faster as fast he was masturbating her until Carlo felt his testicles tightening and a big flow of sperm spurted all over his belly and her hand.
As all the summer stories, they wrote each other some letters during the following Winter until eventually they got bored and the words ‘The End’ was shown on the screen.
The second shagging time of Carlo was his first complete copulation and, as very often was happening during the 60’s, it was with a prostitute.
He had a friend of a couple of years older and licensed to drive the ‘business car’ of the father which was nothing more than a little engine car with a presumptuous trunk defined as a wagon.
They were four of them, strolling around the city streets making fun of the tarts walking along the boulevards in order to show the merchandise to the possible customers.
It was already four years since the “Legge Merlin”, the law which abrogated brothels in 1959, had brought all the prostitutes on the street, a place where now it was allowed to practice the “world’s oldest profession”.
One of the favorite activities of the youth was, and it is still even now, drive cars, scooters or bicycles in those areas and express appreciation, opinions and comments about the ladies of the night.
This was something in the middle between spending time laughing with your friends and evaluation of financial resources for a possible investment in five minutes of pleasure.
That night all the group was horny for sex, they were alsancak escort very attentive to the girls, the comments were less sarcastic and you could feel a particular atmosphere.
The problem was the money, none of them was wealthy enough to afford one of the upper-class whores, therefore they moved to an outlying zone of the city where the countryside was still overcoming the buildings.
Bonfires, made with old car’s tires and kerosene, lighted up the spots where the prostitutes were waiting for customers; they were visibly less attractive than the ones in the city, their dresses weren’t as fancy as for the others and they drew the attention of the customers by courses and yells.
The friends of Carlo spotted a couple of those women apparently cuter and younger than the rest of them and decided to stop the car there.
They got out the car and moved around the fire engaging in conversation with the ladies.
Carlo wasn’t really interested in that and actually he was feeling quite uncomfortable even because it was already 10 p.m. and worried about the grandmother’s sharp rebuke at his return at home.
He started to walk along the road, scent of grass wet of dew was filling his nostrils while he was moving away from the place where his friends were laughing and bargaining the services price.
A little bit later he reached another bonfire, smaller this time and with just a woman sat on a low stool.
His heart had a jump when he realized she was old enough to be at least 60, blond hair probably dyed, a red top holding a prosperous bosom.
She was sitting leg-crossed with the short black skirt unveiling the top of her suntan stockings, clipped together with a black corset, and the foot was dangling a high heeled clog.
Carlo was wordless, lost in the view of those stockinged legs and feet, until the woman’s voice woke him up: “Hey handsome, are you taking me for a cock-ride?”
The boy got back in control enough to ask how much it was; it was definitely affordable for his finances, he felt a heat raising from his pelvis up to his face, the control was lost again and now just the lust was driving his actions.
She brought him behind some bushes where an old mattress represented the bitch’s alcove.
He didn’t know really what to do but the experienced old whore had the necessary skills.
She made him lie back on the straw mattress after unbuttoning his jeans and lowered the briefs, then she knelt down and engulfed his cock in her mouth.
Carlo was in an hormonal storm, watching at the wrinkled face bent on him and the lips sealed on his dick-head was overwhelming, he stretched out the hand heading for the legs clad in the stockings.
The feeling was incredible, the nylon was soft and silky and the top of the stocking was smooth and thicker, the flabby and cold flesh of the bare top of her legs was extremely exciting, she pumped a couple of times more the cock and the way too long abstinence of pure sex made him explode in her mouth prematurely.
The old slut sucked out accurately all the sperm aided by a slow motion of her hand on the shaft, then she turned back and spat the thick cream in the grass.
“It had to be a long time since you had a blow job sweety, you came so fast”, were her first words.
Carlo told her that it was actually his first time and the thing made her raucously laugh; “You are still virgin, aren’t you?”, asked her and he nodded ashamed.
“Well darling, I cannot miss the chance to wean a virgin boy, especially when he has a so outstanding prick!”, declared the matron while she was raising her top over the huge breasts, giving Carlo the view of a couple of floppy, oblong and enormous tits.
“Believe me sweety, I see a lot of dicks in my profession but with difficulty I had the pleasure to meet a so precious tool, especially in a boy as you are, therefore, if you are able to come back hard in a very short while, I will let you fuck my pussy for free”.
She buca escort took his hands and put them on her breasts, they were flabby and heavy, large pink halos and thick nipples.
It was easy for Carlo to be hard again quickly, he was 18 and deeply lost in the fetishism for old women; the penis rose his head in front of the delighted eyes of his occasional partner.
She opened the handbag, took a condom and tore the package apart; The left hand of the woman was holding the top of the rubber whilst the other hand was unrolling it on the shaft of Carlo’s cock.
“I hope it’s big enough for you, honey”, the elderly woman was puzzled about the size of the condom.
At the end of the operation, the penis of Carlo was wrapped up in a pale cream colored hose but at least 1/3 of its length was uncovered.
She moved on him, mounting atop and astride on his crotch, then she rose the elderly hips and fell, slowly, as she took his stiff, throbbing prick into her gray-haired pussy.
He eased her onto his lap, her sheer stockinged legs rubbing against his supporting thighs. Lower and lower until finally, marvelously, he entered in her.
Ablaze, Carlo now thrust himself into the elderly woman womb. Above him, she gasped and groaned at the penetration of her old, shriveled pussy.
As she now rode his hard, remarkable phallus, groaning deeply at the powerful penetration of her aged vagina, Carlo’s hands began to stoke the matron’s heavy, firm thighs sheathed in the sheer brown stockings. His stroking palms tingled and tingled with hot fetish friction as they rubbed against those nylons, feeling the taut film of them and his partner’s warm, satiny thighs beneath. The boy’s cock pulsated hotly as it thrust and thrust up into her old pussy, then he moved smoothly his hand down the calves heading for her feet soles. They were hot and sweaty, the smell of them was almost perceptible and the feeling of the nylon was fantastic.
Carlo increased the powerful strokes of his rigid prick into her churning cunt tunnel. His inflamed dick was lurching now in the elderly woman’s enfolding pussy sheath, groaning soulfully, he increased the speed of his heaves, thrusting deeply his swelling cock pole in that gray-haired pussy slit. Her breasts hopped with the rhythmic movements, her thick nipples erect, while the boy was gripping her girdled ass tightly as she rose and fell.
Carlo lunged upward faster, thrusting deeper into the hot pussy heaven until his burning cock jolted, electrically, spilling stream after stream of white-hot sperm into the undersized condom.
The elderly tart cleaned his softening but still big dick with a paper handkerchief and remained there, watching Carlo getting dress again.
The old whore seemed very satisfied of the ride and, as she had promised before, Carlo didn’t pay for the full service. She kissed his cheek and winked while saying: “hope to see you again soon sweet boy”.
He arrived back on the street just in time to find his friends looking for him. They spent all the way back home talking about their experiences.
Unlocking the door of his home, Carlo already knew what was waiting for him there; it was way past midnight and somebody was, for sure, still awake.
The boy tried to be more silent than a feather opening his room door; he slide in, no lights, and undressed slowly. He was getting under the sheets when suddenly the light of the side table went on.
His grandmother was there, sitting on her bed arms folded, wide open eyes, lips shut in a facial expression denoting all the anger and disapproval, a light pink nightdress was slightly unveiling the shape of her pendulous breasts.
‘You don’t have any respect for the other people living in this house, do you? You should be ashamed of your behavior, how can you be sharp at school when you act like this!?’. Same words, same situation as always; Carlo should be used to this but every time he was experiencing that uneasy feeling of guilt and the desire to run away from there.
She continued to talk, basically by herself, for another while, no apologizes were enough to shut her up.
Carlo fell asleep, dreaming the legs of the prostitute clad in stockings under his hands and rubbing against his hips; he loved old women, why the one living in his house was so mean?
He hated her!
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