ORIGINS
Chapter 1 – Under the Tuscan Sun

The Tuscan sun lit up the sky like fireworks. It was another scorching day in the life of the hardest working olive planter at the Bramasole villa. Marina bent down to pick up another net. And another. And another. By the end of the day, her hands were bloody from picking so much damn cotton. She was about to go back into the house, when her master, Diane Lane, told her to go pick some fresh tomatoes in the marketplace for dinner.
Wasting no time, Marina hauled her hot little ***** over to the local farm stand. As she made her way to the produce section, she accidentally bumped into a tall, beast of woman. Excuse me, you just bumped into me- oh una signa de dio! Youve gotten your blood all over my white linen pantsuit!
Oh, oh, Marina stammered in a husky, baritone, Im so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Let me get that for you”
Its alright. I never really liked this outfit.
Dont be silly, Marina coaxed. You look great in it. Someone like you you probably shine like the eyes of Athena in anything you wear. The stranger smiled and looked deep into Marinas dark eyes.
Im Francesca.
Marina. Let me take of that for you. I know a really great way to get stains out.
And what might that entail?
Do you have an old-fashioned grape press?
Its Tuscany. Do you even need to ask? Marina laughed a hearty laugh before realizing she still had a bushel of tomatoes on her hands.
Oh no, she said quietly, these have to get back to the villa.
Whats it called?
Bramasole. Its just a little place-
I know it. Ill give you a ride.
Oh you dont have to-
Shut up and get on. Francesca motioned to the pale sea foam Vespa parked on the cobblestone.
You dont have to do this.
I want to. Francesca placed her hand on Marinas shoulder, grazing her breast as she reached out. Marina shuttered, down there, and hopped on the bike behind Francesca, wrapping her toned arms around Frans waist, inadvertently caressing her taut abdomen. They dropped off the tomatoes and Francesca asked, So whats this about an old grape press?
Oh, its quite complicated, Marina said sweetly. I couldnt explain it to you. Id have to show you.
Hop on. In no time at all, the two women had reached Francescas own villa, a massive three story palace built for a goddess with views of the entire valley. Hold on, said Francesca. I want to show you something. She led Marina around to the orchard. There, nestled among the olive trees, were several marble statues of Rosie.
Theyre wonderful! Marina laughed.
Im glad you like them. Oxygens got some Ellen reruns on right now if you wanna watch-
That not what I want to do right now.
Then what are you in the mood for? Fran asked. That grape press-
Thats not what Im in the mood for either, Marina said, inching closer and closer to Francesca.
Hmmm what about this? she asked, putting her hand on Marinas soft face. Marina took her fingers in her mouth and sucked on each individually, like a Fruit-Roll up. Then, she forcefully grabbed Frans face and pulled it into her own, thrusting her experienced tongue deep within the recesses of Francescas hot mouth. They gingerly explored each others lips for what seemed like hours. All the while, Fran was tracing the lines of Marinas toned abs with her wet fingers. As they kissed, she moved her hands inside of Marinas high-waisted white khakis. Moving further and further and down, she could feel the warmth emanating from Marinas crotch. She felt the tiniest of stubble and finally, her sweet, throbbing *****, soaking wet. With all of their clothes still on, Fran penetrated Marinas ***** with one finger, then two, then three until Marina couldnt take it anymore. Ahh! This is just like a novel I once read. In this scene, you take off all your clothes.
Sounds good to me. Fran ripped off her linen pantsuit, throwing the top over one of the Rosie statues. Marina took care of the pants, literally tearing them to shreds with her calloused hands. Fran now lay on the grass completely naked, her obviously wet, extremely hairy bush pulsating. Without so much as a nod of warning, Marina dove head first into Frans waiting *****. She peeled the lips apart with her hands and devoured the dripping folds. She continued on this course, until Fran yelled at her to position herself so they could both enjoy such a pleasure. Marina moved her crotch to Frans face, initiating a glorious 69. Even though her high waisted khakis were still on, Marina could still feel Frans rigid tongue and teeth eating her lunch box. Before she knew it, Fran had peeled off the khakis, leaving Marina in a pearl thong- and nothing else. Marina felt her face being covered in more and more secretion until she heard Fran let out a scream. Her love soda was bubbling all over Marinas mouth, down her cheeks, collecting in pools on her chest.
Suddenly, Fran stopped munching, got up and grabbed Marina by the ankles. Marina barely had time to realize Frans ***** was no longer in her mouth before she was in the wheelbarrow position. Trust me, coaxed Fran. Youll enjoy this.
I dont remember this in Eros the Bittersweet.
Shut up, peasant. Do as your told. Fran drove Marina like a garden appliance all the way up to her bedroom on the third floor of her magnificent villa. Once there, she body slammed Marina onto her bed, which had a mural of Rosie on the headboard. Wasting no time, Fran clenched her fist and began pummeling Marinas quickly expanding cooter.
Ooo, Marina moaned a husky voice. That is a beautiful thing, what you are doing. Soon enough, Fran had both arms inside and was bringing Marina to a powerful climax. Her deep, Navajo groans grew louder and louder as Fran sped up the pace. Ohhh, ahhhhh! she cried, delicious Italian ***** juice spilling all over the bedspread. Mmmm, deliciosa.
Wait just a minute little girl, Francesca cooed. Were not done yet.
How about we finish later? I do have some fruit to deliver.
Hmmm, thought Fran. Well, I suppose. But you havent even shown me what to do with that grape press.
The time will come.
And so will you.