"Make me come. Make me a baby inside. Fill me with your love." I covered his mouth with mine, and lifted his butt up a little, then put a pillow under the small of his back. He wrapped his arms around me, and I began the fucking, starting by only going out a half inch or so, then an inch, then three or four. He whimpered each time I got to the bottom, and each time I got to about one third of the way in, so I knew where his nut was. I started to pound a little, enjoying the incredible tightness, the warmth and silky smoothness of it all, and his thrusting up with my every downstroke, meeting me halfway, drawing me into the most incredible sexual frenzy ever. I started to speed up, and he started keening non-stop, and I knew he was getting close, going to come even without me touching him. I hit the no-return point, and just let go, fucking as deeply into him as I could, long strokes, not too fast.
He went berserk. His whole body tensed up, his legs shook like a vibrator, his feet dug into the small of my back, and he screamed into my mouth, just as a vise gripped my dick and I exploded into him, the contractions under my nuts almost painful as I jetted out the semen that had been stored there since the Sunday before when I had a wet dream. I felt a warm splash on my belly, as he came in spurts between us. I broke away from his lips for a second and heard someone shout as I looked down and saw his penis jetting out a long dollop of his semen, just as I ejaculated into his deepest recesses another dose of mine.
We collapsed into a deep embrace as the last spasms went through us, and I licked a taste of him from his right tit, where a little had reached. We kissed the kiss of lovers, of wedding nights, high school proms, beach parties, and long-wedded couples, all at once. I tried to get deeper inside him somehow, wriggling and moving, but could get no farther. He stroked my back, taking away the beads of sweat, and held my balls, kneading them like delicate clay. Our breathing came back to normal, and the kisses became intimate pecks, gentle "I Love You's" in lovers' code. "You made me come," he said. "Yes."
"Stay inside me. I want to do it again."
or "Me too."
"Wait a minute."
"Yes." He turned slightly, and rolled us onto my left side, my back towards the window. His leg was pinned under my waist, but he seemed not to mind. He reached over me and did something, and suddenly presented me with a wineglass, partly filled. We sipped from it, spoke of silly things. He said I was the biggest man he ever met. I said he was the only Italian I had ever loved. The told me he wanted me to stay inside him forever, just like that. I agreed wholeheartedly. Ten minutes later, my fires were restoked, and we were soon writhing in passion once again. This time, I used his cream to lubricate him, and stroked him in time with my thrusts, bringing him to an orgasm only a few seconds after mine. By the time we reached Mainz, we had slept only a few hours, and made love five times, each time more romantically than the last. I was head over heels in love. It was definite. He was intelligent, a university lecturer, athletic, loved receiving my body, got my hormone into a tornado of desire just by looking at me.
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After Mainz, we just slept, until there was a rap on the door. Jon opened the door before we could make ourselves decent. Giordano was laying chest to chest with me, his legs around my waist, his butt towards the door, my dick -- still almost painfully hard -- deeply imbedded in him. I looked right at Jon as he put a little tray with coffee in place of the now-empty bottle of water. He didn't take his eyes off Giordano's butt, even when I pulled out of him so as to cover him up. His eyes got kinda wide as I pulled out, but that was his problem, not mine. He backed out and closed the door. I don't think Giordano woke until after. Giordano whispered "thank you" into my ear as I pulled an errant blanket over him to cover his butt, and kissed me on the nose. "You are so handsome," he said. "Like an American Movie Star." Pure blindness, of course. I'm just ordinary-looking. But I was flattered.
"I need to shower," he said. He got up and went into the tiny stall, and I heard the sounds of water as he cleansed himself. I drank a little coffee waiting for him, and dumped the rest of the wine down the sink. I washed my penis with soap and a little warm water, and feeling the urgent need to pee, and having the sink at exactly the right height, I put the head of my dick into the drain hole and let loose. Giordano came out of the shower stall, and looked at me standing there, my dick plugged into the plumbing, and just watched while I finished, drying himself. "Is beautiful, seeing gorgeous man with big thing in morning," he said. I just laughed and kept peeing, and when I was done, pulled back and milked the last drops out. When I stepped away from the sink, Giordano dropped down to his knees and dried my penis, cooing over it like it was the one that made love to him last night, not me.
He called it all sorts of baby names, kissed it, said it was the most he had ever hoped for, that kind of stuff. I know it was said for my benefit, because he said it in English. Then he took it in his mouth and suckled on it, gagging as it got hard and hit the back of his throat. He took it out, and said "make me come, Jeremiah. Make a baby in me and make me come." I was inside him in no time, our mouths not glued, but talking through it, him telling me how deep it felt in his body, how big it was, how he still had all my seed from the night inside him, how he was going to keep it there. He massaged my balls, and told me he wanted me to empty them completely inside him, and it began to get urgent, as we approached the City of Amsterdam.
"Hurry," he said, "Fill me one more time before we get there! Make me come!" I did. He shouted out his release as he grasped me unmercifully in the vise of his butt, and forced me into the . . . fifth? Sixth? I don't remember -- orgasm of the night. We kissed lovingly, but only for moments, as he said "Hurry, shower. We are almost there!" I pulled out of him, still erect, and kissed him again, jumping into the shower, no bigger than a telephone booth.
"How long can you stay with me in Amsterdam?" I called out through the thin partition. He was headed for Groeningen, in northern Holland, but I wasn't sure if he was supposed to be there on Monday or Sunday, tomorrow.
"For a little while," he said.
"We'll see." I lathered up, and shampooed, all the while talking with Giordano. Where we'd stay, what we'd do. I heard him thumping about, and at one point the compartment door opened and closed. "What on earth are you doing?" I called out.
"I put together the bed and the bucket out the door," he said. I rinsed off, and opened the shower partition thing, and there he was all dressed, in a nice sweater and black jeans, just beautiful. I got a kiss. I was in love, no doubt about it. I toweled off, just as we started to pull into the station, Oh, christ, I'd done it again! I grabbed at my little case to get underwear and socks, and managed to get them on before we got to the end of the platform. I had forgotten that we were now the first car on the train, not the last, as first class cars they tried to get closest to the front of the platform. "We have time," Giordano said. "There is plenty of time. It takes twenty minutes for all the passengers to get off." I got a long, deep kiss as if to prove the point. He tugged at my dick, and said, "This is one I will never not remember." I laughed at his fractured English, but gently. I reached up for my big case, to get out a fresh shirt and a sweater, like Giordano, just as the train stopped. "Hurry!" he said. "I'll get out of here to let you more room to dress. I'll wait in the corridor." I opened the case and pulled out the sweater and shirt, and called through the door, "Where shall we have breakfast?" There was no response. I just heard thumps as people hit bags against the door.
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