Italian Women's Erotic Sins, Volume I. Giovanna Esse
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Now, all this was contrasted by the fantastic ambient before her.
Immediately she was hailed as the most beautiful of princesses: the most exclusive cocoa mixtures came from all over the world to for her chocolates, while biscuits, marzipan and honey jujube, never lacked at tea time.
The Fairy Iron was uncompromising: first of all you had to do homework; but then, as if by magic, they flew past fast. It was nice to even study if the prize was an affable and allied smile of the fairy. The young girl did her best to collect good grades, not to interrupt the happy union.
The Fairy Iron proved to be the best and most trustworthy of friends. Beautiful, large and prosperous; she always wore colorful and cheerful clothes: a real ode to joy. She had a thousand outfits, all too short to hide the thick buttery legs; all too narrow to contain the swollen breasts and round buttocks.
In the Fairy's house everything was available and there was nothing to do but be happy. The hostess helped Alba in her choices without overpowering, sharing ideas. The girl would find no objection to the whispered advice, but would hanging on every word she would whisper. It was amazing to receive her full, unconditional attention.
Nothing in that house was more important than the princess; she was the Iron Fairyâs center of the universe, all that Alba was interesting, unique and valuable.
Although we would be pleased to see her family, she could never wait to run back to the world of fairy tales, to the house at the end of the path, amidst the colored and poisonous bougainvilleas and oleanders. Each day the princess felt bigger and stronger; running toward new experiences day by day. And, hidden in the heart of small sinner, she had a shameful but sublime secret. One of the things that attracted her was the body of the fairy; she could have remained hours admiring her. Only that enchantment was enough to make the visits hurried.
She was beautiful and, to the delight of Dawn, very distracted. When they sat at the delicacies table, she would often opulently cross her legs, careless of the rising of her apron going up, with every movement disclosing her stockings; always of different, new colors. The ones she liked the most were black. The black stockings seemed smaller by a size, the silk stretched on her skin creating mouth-watering lights and shades. Her gaze, hypnotized by that vision, would search the place where the strong black laced rim freed, with very slight snort, her rosy, clear fresh. Even when she sat on a low ottoman, munching beans and Tears of love, it was not difficult for Alba to steal a picture of her panties, squashed between her thighs. The poor fairy sat there, to not to steal Dawnâs space that, as the princess she was, reserved the place of honor on the couch. Sometimes she wandered around the house, looking for a coward speck of dust, or one of the many items that, in the fairy house, had the terrible tendency to fall into the most hidden corners. Since he had found out that, to find them, the fairy would get on all fours, showing her ass or her glorious breasts; Dawn, although of affectionate and obliging nature, never offered to volunteer for the research. The fairy had infinite patience and asked nothing of its precious guests. Fortunately, all the redness and flushing of the sinful girl passed unnoticed. Until one day Dawn gathered her courage and called her godmother from the toilet with an excuse, letting herself be found sitting on the pot, her thin legs parted. Even then, the fairy said and saw nothing, locked in her âchasteâ indifference. On the contrary, the princess fell in unexpected shame after the excitement, she seeked a hasty excuse to go home and for a few days there was no sign of her. But on the third day the fairy called, and everything resumed as before.
4
The governess: charm, but firm hand. (Reality)
Flora thought she was going crazy, the situation had become untenable. Despite the promises made to herself and to the mother of Nicòle, the girl`s presence had become too intriguing, however oppressing for her. Her pleasure in feeling secretly observed from that little slut stirred the blood in her veins and, as soon as she saw or thought of her, she would find herself horny. From the very moment Nicòle would arrive at her home, her most inner part would begin to drool pleasure; she desired the orgasm for hours, while her cheeks glazed and her breasts sweat. She wanted her! And, of course, in the end she was left frustrated by the âstalemateâ that she had solemnly imposed herself. She wanted to vent about her delicate body that infinite desire. The first day that Nicòle deserted lessons, Flora breathed of relief, after weeks of stress she seemed to regain control of her life and home. She had become a small despot; a real little rogue, that princess! The second day she got gloomy. She missed her. She wanted to still be bullied by the impertinent spy. She missed her eyes staring at her thighs. True that Nicòle had gone too far; being found naked on the toilet, still wet. Delicious thoughts had crossed her mind, as galvanic sparking currents, but she had to behave like a responsible adult. She had to resist! That evening she made up her mind and called one of her friends to give vent to her volcano of lust, but the man already had a commitment. The fact that she could have not him made her even more furious. She fumbled in her intimacy mechanically in bed, but the pleasure made her even more excited and unable to overcome her desire for Nicòle.
In the evening of the third day she decided to put an end to it and phoned.
"Yet, I was sure that she had warned you," said Franca, perplexed "today's young people no longer have any respect."
"No, leave her alone, they are just kids, maybe she gets bored here with me. Unfortunately I do not have neighbors with children of her age. I understand the poor girl." Flora justified her.
"Wait Iâll call for her, letâs see how she feels." Then Flora, anxious and awkward, heard the distant voices of Nicòle and her mother:
"What are you thinking? Why did you not warn Flora you were sick? "
"Ugh, but I was not well, I thought you had told her."
"You're a so rude. Now get on the phone and apologize ... " Other words that Flora could not hear followed. Shortly after, Nicòle came to the phone:
"Sorry!" she began.
"For what, my darling? I'm sorry you were not well," beaming Flora said " but now how are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine," Nicòle continued, somewhat laconic. Then, again, Flora heard mother and daughter confabulating in the background.
"Mom says: if it's not too much trouble, can I continue coming to you?"
Flora didnât know how to conceal the joy that those words brought to her, her voice broke in trepidation, as she said:
"You know, Nicòle, now this is your home. You have to decide, if you want ⦠us to see each other again."
"Yup. I still want to come" said the young girl.
The next day, when she entered the house, a fragrant scent of apple pie and cinnamon filled her senses. Flora went to meet her and they embraced without speaking. Since then, however, she no longer sat on the ottoman, but on the couch, next to Nicòle.
5
Perversed enchantment (Fairy Tale)
Now that the ice had been broken the Iron Fairy no longer kept her secrets for herself. On the contrary, buttery and languished, she had decided to give her soul and, if possible, even her body to the princess.
To Dawn it didnât seem real: after homework, in the afternoon, they would have tea and chat like best friends. And since Dawn had never been so good and willing in her studies, in the end she would get a prize. This prize was presented as confidence and intimacy.
The fairy, resigned, would give herself to her completely, so to let her satisfy her lust and languished feelings of young and impertinent girl.
So the naughty girl would sit beside her.
They would often make use of a small blanket with a scottish pattern, times when Dawn would rejoice even more. They would watch television or Flora would read something in the long winter evenings. She would crash on the sofa and follow pretending interest to any