Fresh or chilled

Fresh or chilled Fabiana didn't seem to understand what was happening or what had just happened, anyway, after all the feeling that ran through her whole body didn't allow her to guess where or when she was. All that remained for her was to enjoy every infinite second of those almost two long minutes of uncontrollable and never before experienced sensation. Days before, in Venice, an Italian city where she lived with her father Martino, a successful pharmacist, her mother Roberta and her younger brother, Carlo, Fabiana was celebrating the closing of another school year. On the eve of her 18th birthday, Fabiana could finally, in the company of her family, enjoy the summer holidays on a trip that would make the wonderful and continental tropical country, before the classes began at the Faculty of Physiotherapy. Irrelevant for her that in Brazil we were choosing to enter the winter, since the temperatures in the southeastern region of the country would not be so low for the European standards. Global warming and changes in the agricultural calendar were undoubtedly new to Fabiana, because on the coldest days, the temperatures would remain around the 15th of July in the city of São Paulo, she would be able to finally enjoy the summer holidays in the company of her family, in a trip that would make the wonderful and continental tropical country, before classes began at the Faculty of Physiotherapy. Fabiana had a special affection for her uncle Francesco: in the position of trust of an Italian multinational, based in the neighborhood of Itaim, since she was little he took her in his lap and, together, they spent long hours walking, playing and laughing through the wooded squares of Venice. Aunt Nubia, on the other hand, was a helpful housewife, as well as Roberta, Fabiana's mother, making the traditionalism of the Italian people in its purest form. "Oh, what a dream!" were Fabiana's first words as she stepped on Brazilian soil, in Portuguese heavily laden with the delicious Italian accent. They were perhaps the only words Fabiana knew how to pronounce in Portuguese. Such exhaustion was not for nothing. Having had the misery of enduring approximately ten hours of travel in an uncomfortable tourist-class seat, she was still confused by the time difference between the two countries. Passing through customs, with nothing to declare, after a long wait by the baggage runway of Guarulhos Airport, Fabiana's family soon spotted uncles Francesco and Núbia. Fabiana was the first to run to meet the uncles. Instinctively she greeted her aunt first. Quite affectionate, she gave her a kiss on the face and a hug. She turned and looked her uncle Francesco in the eyes. Yes, now she could give him a nice hug, as in the old days. The old warrior Francesco, with his 55 years of age, could hardly believe what he saw: - <unk>Bellissima ragazza!<unk> were the only words he could utter at that moment. Fabiana, in fact, looked nothing like that thirteen-year-old child that Uncle Francesco had left in Italy. Two days short of turning eighteen, how tall the girl was! I venture to say that her height was one meter and seventy-eight centimeters, including the pair of medium-heeled sandals she was wearing. She certainly drew Martino, the father. And the girl's face? Our! What white, smooth skin! Francesco had never seen anything like it. Bright features, dark brown eyes, deep underarms, well-made, prominent nipples, big nose... Like every good Italian! A mouth: Venetian! Raised to kiss. Lips endowed with sufficiently thin flesh would be uncomfortable for any living species of human with a supply of testosterone in the body. Bellas! Everyone greeted each other and little Carlo, Fabiana's brother, was also not unnoticed. At the age of seven he was strong and handsome, his traits reminded him of his mother but he had the genius of his father. They all got into the car of his uncles and headed to the southern zone of the São Paulo capital, towards Chácara Sto. Antonio. Already in the evening, they tasted the delicious dishes that Aunt Núbia had prepared, with the help of Mrs. Gumercinda, especially for that occasion. There was no shortage of tortito, palm cheese and meat croquettes. After the meal, tired of the trip, the guests retired to the rooms offered by the hosts. Fabiana's parents would sleep in the largest room on the upper floor, facing the bathroom. Fabiana and Carlo would be in a small room alone, very sheltered under the pavement, during the same night, Francesca Fabiana would give up during a disturbance, in the same corridor. Chácara St. Antonio was once a peaceful place to live. Birds of various species, including woodpeckers, were frequently spotted in the backyards of the houses. Today, in the few trees that resist the unscrupulous deforestation promoted by builders of mediocre residential condominiums, especially during the last decade, a very reduced number of birds is observed. Fabiana's sleep on that first night on Brazilian soil was disturbed only by the noise of the night watchman's whistle, commonly heard in large cities in our country. On Sunday morning, Fabiana was going for a walk with her parents, her uncles and her brother. Even Mrs. Gumercinda was accompanying them. The intention was to visit the beautiful old city center. The College Courtyard, the Church of St. Benedict and the fair that takes place on Sundays in the Republic Square were some of the places that Nubia wanted to take them. During the family breakfast, amidst the news that everyone was telling, Uncle Francesco tried to ignore the body of his niece, completely naked, under the white silk sweater. That frozen palmito cake was really delicious! That Sunday Fabiana had plenty of time to walk hand in hand with her favorite uncle. The day was great, and by the time they realized it, they were all together again for Monday's breakfast. That Monday had something very special: it was Fabiana's 18th birthday! She was born in Venice at ten-five in the morning, so a little over five in the morning in Brazil. Amidst the gifts and hugs Uncle Francesco appears, in overcoat and tie, late for work. He hadn't slept right. Something was bothering him the last two nights. Fabiana wasted no time and jumped on his lap, giving him a strong kiss on the face. A strong embrace, Francesco, a man, a few inches taller than Fabiana could feel. Fabiana's body and the weight of her camel. At the same time, she didn't even realize that the warmth and the warmth of her uncle's white coat and tie were enough to create a barrier. Fabiana hadn't even noticed that Fabiana was a little different. The feeling of the wet kiss on the face remained for about a minute in old Francesco who was undoubtedly disturbed, and he said goodbye to everyone with the promise to return, if possible, before eight o'clock in the evening, to the celebration they would make for Fabiana's birthday. Fabiana just smiled. Then, after the uncle's exit, he looked at everyone in order to see if anyone else had noticed anything strange. Unaware of what was happening, everyone seemed more concerned about taking care of little Carlo, who had just spilled a liter of whole milk on the carpet of the dining room. Fabiana ran up the stairs and went to the room. Thinking about the friends and girlfriends she had left in Italy, Fabiana knew little about the strange feeling that had taken over her body in recent times. For about three or four years now, every now and then, she felt a shiver. A kind of chill. Fabiana had already heard a lot about sex, both at school, among friends, and from television programs. A certain resistance, however, she found within her own home, as happens in most Italian families, where one tries to preserve the traditions and good customs. Without the support of the Catholic Church, in the 21st century, few Italian parents are prudent enough to guide their children about the practices of sexual acts and the use of contraceptive methods. Things still happen almost as they used to. The fact is that although Fabiana was endowed with a certain evil feeling, she was able to talk about sex, both in school, among friends, and through television shows. A certain resistance, however, she found within her own home, as it happens in most Italian families, where one tries to preserve the traditions and good customs. Without the support of the Catholic Church, in the 21st century, few Italian parents are prudent enough to guide their children about the practices of sexual acts and the use of contraceptive methods. Things still happen almost as they used to do in the old days. The fact is that although Fabiana was endowed with a certain evil feeling, she had heard a lot about sex, both in school, among friends, among friends, and by the television shows. The evening came and Fabiana remained in her room, thinking and listening to music. Sometimes it played and when she did, she would think of her uncle. Her heart raced and small chills took over her young body. A feeling of guilt came and she soon stopped. At two o'clock in the afternoon her mother enters the room and sees her lying there in bed, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Mrs. Roberta warns that she and her aunt are going to Uncle Virgílio's house in Moema, and asks if she wants to accompany them. Martino, her father, had taken little Carlo to the Ibirapuera Park. From Moema they would follow their meeting and return for the birthday celebrations. Fabiana tells her mother that she prefers to stay and just asks: -<unk>Mama, quanti abitanti sono ci Venezia?<unk> which means: <unk>Mama, how many inhabitants are there in the city of Venice?<unk> The mother answers that she does not know, stops and thinks for a moment, and says goodbye to the daughter with a kiss on the forehead. While Mrs. Gumercinda, the maid, takes a nap on an old mattress in her modest back room, Fabiana decides to take a long bath. The bathroom in the hallway next to her room is small but functional. It has a good clarity, which Fabiana was able to see with the entrance of the evening sun rays. The tiles in white color, with pink details, help to clarify the environment and the imagination of Fabiana who, naked, lets the water run over her body while scribbling on the wall vaporized by the heat of the water. Fabiana's long brown hair, wet, is massaged by a shampoo with a different essence, green apple, which she finds in the bathroom and likes to be her aunt Nubia: -Hmmm! Time passes and Fabiana doesn't see it passing, but the vanilla-scented soap that her mother bought her in a cosmetics shop in Venice runs all over her body. Fabiana runs the soap over her belly, over her small, hard, pink breasts, over her long legs, her butt, and over her thighs, which are richly supplied with fine pubic hair. Fabiana touches her sex. Her body is still undergoing transformations, she knows that. But how nice it is to be sprayed all over! At half past three in the afternoon Fabiana closes the shower faucet. One can see the tiny droplets of water vapor floating in the air, through the rays of sunlight that penetrate, through the window, the bathroom, illuminating it, as well as Fabiana's naked body, barefoot on the floor. Distracted and still wet, wrapped in a lemon-green towel, Fabiana leaves the bathroom and walks towards the room. The door handle is carved in bronze and Fabiana enters, closes the door and gets rid of the towel. Looking in the direction of the window is frightened by what he sees: there is a man bent out! As soon as it is about his uncle Francesco, who enjoys the view of the garden. As soon as it is about his uncle Francesco, who enjoys the view of the garden. As soon as it is about his uncle Francesco, who enjoys the view of the garden. As soon as it is about his uncle Francesco, who enjoys the view of the garden. - What a beauty! Without taking her eyes from her uncle's eyes, Fabiana smiled. It was enough for Francesco to begin a long walk of five steps from the hippocampus to Fabiana's house with a smile still tinged by the scarred lips of Francesco. With each step, the heartbeats of both reached proportions that surpassed the acceptable by known medicine. As Francesco stood facing the nephew, Francesco could feel the smell of green apple exhaled by Fabiana's wet hair. Still puzzled by what was happening, Francesco hesitated for an instant. Fabiana then, without turning away, smiled lightly and gave a caring look at the corner of the uncle's mouth. After a while, Francesco began to explore other parts of Fabiana's body. His tongue went through the ribs of the girl and went up to her left armpit. But she still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. But she still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. But she still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. But she still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. She still felt a burning desire to suck through the red lips of the girl. As he sucked his niece's cunt, Francesco forced the thumb of his right hand on Fabiana's cock, which responded with more groans. A few minutes passed, and Francesco realized that Fabiana would not endure any more. She was about to have her first full orgasm. The uncle, of course, did not know this, only suspected. He then stopped sucking her. They looked at each other for an instant. Francesco positioned Fabiana better. He raised the girl's legs and then held her member that was as stiff as an iron bar. He placed the cock's head on the entrance door of the crate soaked with Fabiana, who had no way to resist. Forcedly wandering the cock between the two vaginal pleasures of the girl's mouth, Francesco took advantage of the endless minutes until he felt that the girl's entire body was uncontrollable. Francesco groaned uncontrollably, allowing Fabiana to feel the heat of his vulgar cock's head. When Fabiana was about to have her first full orgasm, the uncle, of course, only suspected it. He then stopped sucking her. They looked at each other for an instant. Francesco positioned Fabiana better. He lifted the girl's legs, and then held the cock's legs, and then began to shake the whole cock's head with a feeling that was as stiff as hard as an iron rod as a stick. Fabiana's. Fabiana obeyed her uncle's footsteps and stood on all fours, with that enormous butt pulled up. Francesco observed that the niece had, perhaps because of the orgasm, a little cellulite, a fact that, inexplicably, left him even more excited! Very submissive, as every female should be during intercourse, Fabiana could pull her head from the mattress side by side, leaving her body tilted, in a diagonal position, while the uncle would again place her body in this absurd position on the little butt of the niece. Fabiana was beautiful! Fabiana was beautiful! Doce Dolce Fabiana! Fabiana's head would be pulled up by the tail. Fabiana's head would still be pulled up by the tail. Fabiana's head would be pulled up by the tail. Fabiana's head would be pulled down by the tail. Fabiana's head would still be pulled up by the tail. Fabiana's head would be pulled down by the tail. Fabiana's head would be pulled up by the tail. Fabiana's head would be pulled down by the tail. Fabiana's head was pulled up by the tail. A few hours later, at the dining room table, Fabiana, in the company of her family, was cutting the chocolate and strawberry cake from the bottom up, as tradition dictates, and, with a twinkle in her eye, quietly made a request. A generous piece was lovingly offered to her little brother Carlo. The end of the fantasy. However, not everything is flowers in the world of mortals. The feeling of guilt that took over both after the act is something that I do not even like to remember. The problems generated by this incestuous relationship are things that I prefer not to put on paper, so as not to cause nausea in the audience. (a) the amount of the aid to be recovered from the beneficiary; Author's comment: <unk>This is my first short story. Currently, however, I prefer to remain anonymous. It was designed for people of good taste, like you. The reading is long, I know, but if you came here it is because you enjoyed it. This is someone with a minimum of culture and common sense, the kind of person rare nowadays. I published the short story in order to check the reaction of the general public to well-told stories. Depending on the degree of acceptance of people, I may publish others, in the future. Your opinion is welcome to my electronic address: de [email protected]. Intelligent people, as you know, like all stories and any other page of erotic stories from the world wide web, this one is also purely erotic. Any difference between the names, always left in this narrative, of the sex, or of the places, the type of person is rare nowadays. Thank you for reading the story in order to check the reaction of the general public to well-told stories. Depending on the degree of acceptance of people, I may publish others, in the future. 11 and 12 November 2005