“Hasselblad,” I said, more to myself than to anyone else.The word was on the front of a giant camera, about half a metre away from my bare breasts. “Yes, ‘Hasselblad’, Swedish. One of the finest cameras in the world.” Meet Gastone Contini. He’s the grey-haired man holding the camera. He is father to Giulia and Marco and husband to Flora, and right now we are in his studio and he taking pictures of me.Gastone arrived home a few weeks ago after a long series of concert tours. There was a magnificent party in his honour. I will tell you about it later, but right now, I am half standing, half kneeling, on an ornate antique chair in just my panties.”That’s lovely, Sophie!””Suzy,” I corrected. “So sorry, my dear. Now, if you could pull your panties to one side?”The shutter goes again and again, and after each click, Gastone winds the film forward to the next frame. And so it goes on, click and wind, click and wind. It’s hypnotic. At first, I wondered if there was even film in the camera, but later, he showed me some of the results. He was actually an excellent photographer. He’s got a proper darkroom and everything and develops his pictures himself.Now it’s Ankara escort my bottom’s turn. Gastone likes to take pictures of my anus. He calls it my ‘Rosebud’. I have always detested the term. Actually, he isn’t too bad, middle-aged, well-groomed, ever so charming. He calls me his muse, and often he invites me to his studio, where he takes pictures of me with no clothes on. He never touches me or anything. He did that first night, of course, at the big party, just about everybody touched me that night!I know that Gastone takes photographs of Marco and Giulia, often both together, but he always photographs me alone. He’s very polite and charming and ever so complimentary about my looks, my body, my ‘rosebud!’Eventually, the photo session is over, and I am allowed to get dressed. Gastone kisses me on both cheeks, and I leave.”To the next time!” he says with a dazzling smile. Now I feel guilty at being so half-hearted with him. Waiting for me in the blazing sunlight is Marco in his lovely bright red Spider. We are to go up into the mountains where there is a village with a beautiful Byzantine church. I am learning Ankara escort bayan loads about art and churches and many other essential things. For example, it is NEVER correct to drink a cappuccino after 10:30 in the morning. For the rest of the day, one drinks un caffe, an espresso coffee. Strangely, ‘correctness’ is essential to Italians when it comes to unimportant things. Now we are following the twists and turns as the road snakes up the mountain. Marco drives ever so well, and he never takes risks when I am with him. At the very top of the mountain is the pass. There’s a bar there, and inside, there are ancient, faded pictures of men in mountaineering costumes posing outside the self-same bar.We both have un caffe and a glass of Prosecco. Then it’s back on the road, and suddenly we are in the tiny village. Marco parks (sensibly), and a small group of boys gather around his car, admiring it. The church is all cool and dark inside. Marco dips his fingers in the holy water thingy, and he makes the sign of the cross on my forehead. Neither of us seriously believe in God anymore, but Marco was raised as a Catholic, Escort Ankara and some things never leave you.We look at the tall wooden confessionals. Perhaps not for us!I am fascinated by an enormous painting of St Agatha. She is just standing there patiently and wearing a strange smile while some men are cutting her breasts off. One is already off and is sitting on the ground, nipple upwards. Marco explains that people needed vivid and realistic images in the middle ages to understand the horrors of martyrdom. There is a small doorway on one side of the church, and through it, I can see a pretty garden. The door creaks as we push it open, and suddenly we are in the fresh air. Marco and I sit together and share a kiss, and then another.Marco makes me feel ever so relaxed and comfortable when we are alone together. We kiss a bit more, and I cautiously unbutton his jeans. Marco always goes commando. I do as well, but not if I will be getting in and out of a sports car!Flipping the top button, open his jeans properly and release his cock. It really is lovely. As you know, I don’t have vast experience of men in that way, but I know what I like.He’s a perfect size for me, just a bit under six inches. (I have measured.) And he is circumcised, which I prefer. There is something about the exposed head that makes it look ever so cute. And the shaft is not all veiny and lumpy either. (I am not sure if ‘shaft’ is the usual word, but I like it.)