MARCELLA
Italian girls had always intrigued me. Especially ones with very cute mouths, full lower lips; and who on special occasions pout. Marcella was such a girl.
The first time I set eyes on her was the morning we enrolled for art school, and as soon as I did I knew that she was a rare creature. Everything about her I liked, even the tendency to confusion when things got busy during enrollment, and so I decided that we would meet, when the time was right.
For the first three days I observed Marcella from a safe distance, asked no questions yet took notice of her comments in the classes we attended together. She was surprisingly serious, with a feminist bent, but also obviously intelligent. Her clothes were simply cut from cotton and other natural fibers, but even if she was only wearing jeans and shirt she’d usually have a scarf or other accessory which would give her a sexy accent followed though by the way she moved, or at times looked totally disinterested in everything.
I took note of the books she carried and read a couple  I’d managed to find in the library. Her car, the window decals and bumper stickers told me the rest.
From a distance I observed who Marcella spoke with, but noticed that she didn’t waste too much time talking to other people, especially aussie yobs, though it was interesting to see that her eyes were always on the move and when she recognized a look of lust on some young fools face she turned away coldly; seemingly pleased nonetheless.
And then, “by chance”, she and I met. Both assigned to the same project. Our group got together around a round table in the library to discuss the outlines of our proposed submission. Each of us was expected to introduce ourselves briefly so after the most basic information I subtly mentioned the environmental, feminist and aboriginal land rights strands of the new age chic in a quiet but sincere voice and felt Marcella and I lightly touching shoulder to shoulder.
It was the first time I had been so close to Marcella and though she usually wore a smile I could see that there was some deep anger or existential anxiety in the back of her mind which made her just that desirably intense, anyway, she more or less took over the discussion, emphasizing anti-tyrannical vigilance, and I made sure that I was her best lieutenant, channeling ideas through her, always agreeing with her side of the argument, and generally being supportive while keeping a low profile.
As the brainstorming wound down I managed to spill some papers on the floor in front of her, but not too close, and while on one knee looked up, made embarrassed eye contact for a hesitant second, flooding her ego with enough subconscious messages to ensure that she would inevitably be mine.
The next day we all met again and afterward Marcella and I talked for a while before agreeing to continue working at my place and it was midnight before we knew it.
“Wow, it’s late. I think I should go to bed so I’m ready for that tutorial first thing tomorrow. Do you feel like driving? There’s a spare bed there with everything you need.” I said indicating a single bed in the corner of the study room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll see you in the morning.”
We’d worked closely together all evening and I’d decided it was time for me to go to bed when the luscious feeling created by her breath on the edge of my ear warned me there was a limit to my self control. It was the sweet breath of perfumed gardens and I had spontaneously formed a mental image of her resting in a sunlit meadow of golden flowers.
Once in bed I could hear Marcella wondering why I hadn’t made an attempt at sweet-talking her. The clothes she’d worn were beautiful so it was flattering to think that perhaps she had made the effort on my behalf. 
The next morning we ate a delicious breakfast, sipped coffee, and talked comfortably. Just as though we’d been together for weeks.
It was perfect, so, two nights later I was very pleased when Marcella came again. We worked hard and after several intensive hours we’d completed our part of the project. It felt good and I’d had the foresight to buy a bottle of mid-priced wine to celebrate our shared success. It was a dusty bottle I put on the bottom shelf of the pantry as though it had been there for months. If it had been champagne my companion would have ignored the message and felt sufficiently satisfied. I'd have never got into her pants; which was where I intended to go.
We smiled at each other, clicked glasses, sipped the blood warm wine and the time just came by itself for us to kiss. Soft, skimming, sugar sweet kisses. Her mouth was warm and wet, and adventurous. My hand slid round her waist until my fingertips could feel the separate muscles of her back beneath her silk blouse. She put her fingers in my hair held my mouth to hers and pressed her hips against me so then I figured it was just a matter of getting horizontal.
Watching Marcella undress was stimulating, and caused a perceptible vibration in the room. I handed her a hanger for her trousers and winked. She laughed with a slight nervousness I noticed, but expected.
Almost naked on the bed we kissed much more of course, slow and slippery, delicate yet deep. I was licking pieces off her because she was made off toffee. Eyes closing, murmuring floatfulness. We were made for each other!
As our love play progressed I stroked and kissed her full shaped breasts, behind her ears, and along her thighs right down to her pretty toes. Every centimeter of her was from God’s best machine and when I finally slid her plain white panties along her thighs I found a lovely sound hiding in Marcella’s little pink thing.
Her pussy was very smooth in shape with a softly curved slit with the juicy wet inner lips protruding perfectly. Blonde wispy hair adorned each side, not much in the way, but as she became more aroused the edges of her vagina were noticeably hot and enlarged and the lips seemed to wave imperceptibly like kelp at night.
I held her lips apart and counted her pulse by watching her clitoris rise and pivot. At the same time the diaphanous skin on the inside changed a darker shade of pink and the juice and saliva, they were a glistening testament to the power and importance of sex. And the sound I found? It was tantalizing!
Whenever I’d explore Marcella’s candy cave with my tongue I’d hear a purring feline. Not a cat; more like a sated ocelot or puma kitten; but it was simply Marcella’s purring, and purring as my tongue controlled the volume and frequency. She was amazing. So Italian, so unpredictable. So kitten. An arrogant, stuck up Italian kitten who wouldn’t have been with me if I’d spoken my mind on her favorite issues. Strange twist because I adored her and wanted in. And I was going in. And that was the overriding consideration!
Marcella lay on her back with her legs spread wide apart so I enjoyed the unobstructed view of her thighs, her belly, her breasts, and her gorgeous face surrounded by her glossy auburn hair spreading out across the pillow. Her mouth was a kissing shape and the lips were almost silently vibrating. I looked back down at her vagina which I’d just been licking and the way the inner lips were still slowly folding themselves back together gave me an intense feeling of anticipation, like looking down a valley after a hard days hiking and seeing whispey smoke rising from the chimney of a cottage.
At that stage I hadn’t realized there was a difficulty related to penetration, but when I placed the shining head of my penis at the gateway to paradise, intent on sliding it in, each time she put her hand there and wiggled her bottom away. Just shy or something I thought, and her eyes being closed didn’t help, so I went back to just grooving on hugging and holding and moving my hands all over her smooth, perfumed, manicured and pampered body. But eventually I realized Marcella was afraid of being penetrated. Her body said “Please!” but her mind said, “No, no, no!”
I’d heard of women with such fears but never encountered one. The problem’s root cause most likely derived from early trauma and would likely require several hundred hours of psychotherapy with no guarantee of success. I didn’t have the time, so I weighed up the forces and decided, “It’s only in her mind, so let’s have faith in the pleasure principle.”
Motivated by pure lust I stroked and licked and kissed and kneaded Marcella into a fifty five kilogram erogenous zone on red alert so she was sucking air and bucking by the time I managed to get my knob between her sweet and shiny fur-lined lips. Her head went back like she had been impaled so I stroked her forehead with my left hand to soothe her as I went a little bit further and pulled her a little bit closer to me, placing one slender ankle on each of my shoulders. Squatting between her legs, for maximum flexibility, I held the crest of her right hip with one hand as I prepared to guide my penis further. She was sucking her fingers and panting like a thirsty hound but still I had to take it slowly if I wanted to deliver my twitching tool. It was a psychological front I was working on.
With some deft hand work, all the time keeping my thumb working her slippery clit while rotating the shining head of my cock in slow circles watching the inside of her vagina pulsing I finally slid the first part of my excited weapon into her hungry sexual organ. The head was buried!
Immediately she tensed again but then went almost limp; totally resigned to her sexuality. I soothed her upper arms and throat as I began a very gentle rhythm sliding a bit more into her with every move. She kissed me like I was a dream and then went into a wild frenzied licking of my face, neck, ears and hands, and then I was really in and sliding. Ooh, …wow, ooh, …wow, what an exquisite feeling! And Marcella began moving with me.
Oh Marcella! She was like a cat hanging on the downside of a wet pipe. Her hair was standing, her eyes open wide, her fingers clenching the edges of my scapulae. She was a human woman pumping beyond her fears and I was her engine so we drove, sometimes fast and close, sometimes along with long even strokes, each slide more satisfying than any other, until we knew we both needed time for a tender rest.
It was a lot of fun actually fucking with her after all of the pre-nuptials, and a fantastic relief to be lying there with her in my embrace, held together by our pleasure. How long had it been since Marcella had succumbed to herself?
Soon; to be cuddling was still heavenly but to be moving seemed like such an excellent idea.
“Cella?”
Mmmmh.”
Hey Baby, If I change around will that be alright with you?”
“Mmm.”
I want to slip it in from behind so we can move even easier. Okay?”
“Mmmm.”
I pulled out, slowly, kissed her on her belly and rolled her over, but wouldn’t you know it, she pressed her thighs together and wouldn’t let me back in! Her gloriously round dancer’s bottom was right there before me but she’d swallowed the keys. It was an unpleasant surprise, only designed to tease me, I hoped.
But no, it seemed she’d had her fun as she flopped flat on the bed. I’d been her slave, more fool me, but a reasonably happy fool so I swallowed the lump in my throat and began caressing her back and kissing the smooth cheeks of her bottom and took it from there. Pretty soon Marcella was purring again and a new shine shone on those lips so I slid back in. Mama mia, mama mia! Slipping and a sliding! What else could heaven be?
Later on we lay around in bed and ate some fruit and yoghurt that Marcella had produced from her bag. She was a health-freak, no problem about that, but once she started talking at me about this that and the other thing, mostly pop psychology and disease data, I had to switch off, spend my time looking at her eyes and lips and cute brown nose and just agreeing with her in a roundabout way by making parallel sort of remarks.
After a few weeks Marcella and I were becoming a real couple. People were used to seeing us together. We spent each day together. She had some funny ways about her but just as I loved the way she interpreted the English language in her own inimitable style I also adored all of the antics she performed, and her own brand of confusion she seemed to carry about with her. In the middle of a class she’d begun to panic about losing her passport and she stopped proceedings completely with her frantic antics until she finally found it, where she’d looked the first time.
On Wednesday afternoons we had some time free so Marcella and I went to our favorite outdoor restaurant for entrees and a couple of glasses of champagne. It was a bit extravagant for a art students but we were celebrating something. Perhaps our one month anniversary. Whatever, Marcella was being very nice to me, looking straight into my eyes as we sipped the champagne, rubbing up against me a little bit, and while we were waiting for the bill she told me she loved me.
It was a thrill to hear her say that because my feelings for Marcella had been growing stronger all the time. Her sense of pleasure aligned with mine, our bodies had come to know each other very well, and it seemed as though I’d finally managed to quell her fears.
We drove home after lunch and went into the bedroom before she went to shower and wash her hair. The window let out onto the next door backyard and my neighbour was a cop who was out on the lawn kicking a ball around with his two young sons. I drew the curtain and soon forgot about them.
There were a couple of glossy books I’d left in the car so decided to take advantage of quiet time to browse.
If she hadn’t been such a honey I wouldn’t have been able to put up with some of the horse shit she came out with. Historical perspective, cultural continuity, deep ecology, gay families, basically white colonialist junk food but when I went to take the car keys from the pocket of her jacket hanging on the doorknob I was surprised to discover a couple of folded photocopies. “What's this?” I wondered. “Not looking like anything private.” 
And then I laughed because at the first glance I could see that they were just a couple of pages of unimaginative pornography. The content, more than the style, was interesting though, and it made me wonder where it had come from. Had she chosen those pages. Was it her secret fantasy?
I folded the pages up and put them back in the pocket where I’d found them. At least they’d kept me amused while Marcella washed, polished, and powdered that sleek and sumptuous sex machine of hers.
An eternity later she walked in warm dry naked from her shower and we kissed and necked and snuggled up together on the bed in a comfortable lovers embrace. After only a few minutes of smooching Marcella entered a state of arousal that would have normally taken at least half an hour. The far-off look and the gradually becoming purring was turning me so far on!!
We began making love after a briefer than usual interval of foreplay and I was almost resentful for being denied the extended arousal which I’d prepared myself for. One thing for certain it ensured I was going to take my time. Once enjoined with my sweet Cikita I wasn’t going to waste a moment of the pleasure. She'd become everything I thought about so I was far more accepting of her wily whims and every other day intent fancies.
Marcella had her bottom on a silk cushion. We were making sweet easy love. I looked at her divinely sculpted face, those delicious pink lips, and felt tremendously deep love for her, and not only sexual love, although it did have the floor, but I’d begun to see deeply into her soul like looking through the reflection on the surface of the sea and discovering the richness and beauty of life in the depths for the first time, so, naturally, I wanted to hold that girls smooth round rump in my hands and watch my cock slide in and out of her slippery cunt like an over-fed chimpanzee enjoying her last sweet banana.
After a few minutes of long stroking thrusts, withdrawing my cock to the point where its head almost broached, and then all the way in until my balls slapped against her bum I was in a state of distracted bliss but I wanted to be able to run my fingers up and down that tantalizing groove of her back and on to her hidden breasts as she pushed against me, purring and moaning simultaneously.
“Cella?”
“Mmmm.”
“Hey baby, if I change round will that be alright with you?’
“Mmm.”
“I want to slip it in from behind so we can move easier, OK?”
“Mmmm.”
I pulled out, slowly, kissed her on her belly and rolled her over onto her knees so that her vagina was right before me, squeezed between the cheeks of her bum, but wouldn’t you know it, she put her hand over her fanny like a lid, with fine blonde hair struggling out between her painted nails, and she wouldn’t let me back in!
I couldn’t believe it! I was as horny as hell and on a pre-orgasmic plateau of pleasure.
“Please Marcella; don’t you know how much I want to keep fucking you?” I said to the back of her head. “Don’t you want my throbbing cock sliding inside you so it can squirt its hot juice?” I whispered closer to her ear.
She just shook her head. To both suggestions.
I lay down beside her and stewed. I didn’t consider attempting any of the arguments. I just lay there sort of stunned.
“It’s my choice.” she said unexpectedly. “I say “No”, so its No.” And then after a few seconds of silence she asked me what part of no I didn’t understand.
Although her face was turned away I could see the tips of her ears were red, as though she was laughing to herself.
“Yeah Marcella. I know what’s no, but you were having the time of your life.” I told her.
“Says who?”
“Said you Marcella! With every move you made and the sublime look on your face.” I slid up close, gently but firmly grasping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her face to look into her dark brown eyes. “Marcella, my goddess and angel, you have to let me back in.” I kissed her lightly on the lips a couple of times, “I need you, darling. My balls are full and my cock is on fire!”“
“Then pull yourself!” she said with the air of a queen, as she turned her face away, leaving my hand floating in space...
“Pull myself hey, yeh; sure I could do that, but no way Marcella. I took you out of yourself onto a whole different plane. Don’t I deserve to share the final pleasure too?”
“Maybe. But that's up to me. You shouldn’t have come out then, should you?”
“Well Marcella, maybe I can make amends by licking your slippery cunt?” I enquired, ‘cause once she was hot, talking to her like that usually met with coy approval.
“Don’t talk to me like that!” she said as she turned her face directly toward me, lips pursed. Eyes defiant.
I must have looked slightly shamed, so as the silence settled between us, her pose softened.
“Oh Marcella, your warmth, your sweetness, our passion is the inspiration for living. You are my oasis of peace and meaning in a one dimensional world. Please let my tongue  dance freely in the centre of the universe.” I tried again in the whisper of a castaway, looking into her eyes the way a starving man might look up at a mango hanging out of reach.
“Well, I suppose so.” she murmured distractedly as she lay her head back on the pillow and opened her legs.
Her fine blonde hair was already wet from our pleasure so I tantalized her every corner and found the places which had previously made her lose that stubborn Italian control, pinching her lips together gently with my thumb and forefinger and running my tongue the length of where her inner lips protruded and came apart like a clam out of water.
Another half hour floated by massaging, caressing, man-handling her, whispering to her, stroking, tickling and enticing, teasing and tempting her with tastes of erotic adventure until there was seminal fluid dangling from the eye of my dick. Marcella was animated from the waist down but unresponsive above and without thinking she answered “no” to all of my attempts to negotiate my way back in, despite the fact there was moisture trickling from her down to a wet patch on the sheet.
It couldn’t be true. I was becoming increasingly impatient.
“Hey Marcella, stop foolin’ around, please! You’ve had your fun but when we climbed onto this bed it was a partnership and now you aren’t prepared to fulfill your part of the plan. Unlike you, I haven’t had enough, yet who’s been doing all the work while you lay there like Lucrezia Borgia licking the juice off your fingers! You know I could just take you anytime I wanted. If I decided to!” I said recklessly, thinking of the story in her pocket.
“Oh yeah! Says who?” snapped Marcella.
I paused, but not for long enough. “I’m sure you realize, my darling, that I’m much stronger than you so it would be no trouble for me to overwhelm you. But please sweetheart, don’t torture me, don’t cause me pain. I love you and I thought that you loved me.”
She ignored the love overtures but latched onto the veiled threat. She had fire in her eyes and with clenched fists challenged me to try whatever I wanted to try but no way could I make her have sex with me if she didn’t agree to it because I was too scrawny, and didn’t have the balls!
Oh yeah!
The first thing was grab Marcella’s black pantyhose from the bed frame to wrap around one of her arms and use it to turn her onto her stomach then grabbed the other arm as she reached to grab me and threw a couple of turns around her wrists, finishing off with a pair of half-hitches.
And then I pulled her legs apart. What a glorious arse. So strong and alive.
With a couple of quick knee stepping movements I was between her legs with my penis held half an inch from her wet slit, but before I went in I took note of her relative receptivity and decided that it would take away some of her fun if she didn’t have a bit more of a struggle, so I began to tell her what I really thought of all the bleeding heart lefty bullshit she spouted.
‘The environment!” I began. “What’s going to happen when the planet is literally crawling with people? Feminism; the perfect parody of itself which has lowered the ethical standards for the entire human race!” That was as far as I got before she let out a howl like I’d never heard before.
Suddenly the entire situation had changed. It was no longer playing around. It was very serious. The neighborhood cop re­merged into my consciousness as I looked down at the tangle around Marcella’s wrists getting tighter with every futile attempt to struggle free. How would it look if the cop stuck his head through the open window? I was looking at ten years behind bars for mis-reading mixed messages. I’d no idea she would freak out like that. Had she been raped when she was a kid or something? Where did those pages come from if she hadn’t chosen them herself? Was it really only her response to the realization I’d been raping her mind all along’ Shit! I was seeing bars.
Somehow I managed to get the pantyhose untangled from Marcella’s wrists and calmed her down by assuring her that everything I’d said about everything was just meant to annoy her. Nothing more. Of course I believed in The Environment and Feminism, and after a while it was as though it had never happened at all as we lay there arm in arm and Marcella dozed off and began snoring like a flower with a bee inside. She was quite a girl but I’d already decided she was too much for me, “I love you Marcella”, I thought as I looked at her sweet face, “but you’d definitely drive me crazy, and who is it you are in love with anyway if I must always conform to your ideas?