two lovable idiots and their love ... not as boring as just any tearjerker...no, one with ups and downs and dogs and food and a band and cars and cigarettes and much more...
on hiatus
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(🍋slightly lemons🍋)
Impatiently, Vic tore the jacket off her skin and Francesca's with it. Her fingers ran over the warm skin of the other and felt their way impatiently. But as already mentioned, Francesca was no bottom, so she grabbed both impatient hands and pinned Victoria against the wall, holding her hands above her head. The other hand ran agonisingly slowly over the other's soft pink skin. Gently she kissed down further, leaving a wet trail of her tongue on Victoria's collarbone. Her reaction was a loud moan and impatiently she stretched her abdomen forward. Grinning, France released her hands so that Victoria could hold on to her. Deftly, she carried her into the bedroom and placed the young beauty on the king-size bed. The room was filled with passion and lust, which became apparent through Victoria's loud moans and the smacking sound of the kisses on her skin. Gently the long fingers stroked between her breasts, over her ribs, around her belly button and around the button of her green velvet trousers which were nimbly undone. Those trousers flew in a high arc into some corner. Long legs wrapped around a dark neck, which sank down and sank into the sea of lust.
But he was held back, held back by a lock in his brain. Victoria stopped her moaning and let Francesca go, who was looking critically at a vague point in front of her. Carefully, the blonde placed her hands in the dark curls and let her fingers slide through them. ,,France? Hey, everything is fine. Talk to me," Vic whispered into the grey of the morning. Eyes like liquid dark chocolate stared into the bluer than the Indian Ocean. "I'm no good for you, Victoria," Francesca whispered, her Italian accent coming through clearly. To Vic it sounded like a dark message, crawled straight from the depths of hell and everything in her head screamed to let that message slide, that she knew from the start that there was something wrong with this woman. Incredibly rich, only one father for a family and all this in the south of Italy probably sounds more like a Mafiosi novel than real life, but Vic doubted that Mister Massouri was a boss of the Mafia. The fact that she didn't believe in fanciful theories and that her heart was stronger than her head meant that her lips gently approached those of her opponent and blew light air in their direction. Cautiously, the dark menace's lips opened and Victoria took a taste of the taste of hell itself. Like a drug, her body craved more and more. Her head stopped and her body alone seemed to rule. Her body, her heart and her almost endless lust.
The next morning, the first thing Victoria heard was the sound of water. Yawning, she looked through the large windows and saw a grey, rainy sky. The blonde reached for the thin white blanket and wrapped it around her body. Like a train it dragged behind her ,as Vic went into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. Half asleep, she waited beside the machine, which made hissing noises.
The smell of fresh flowers rose to her nose and something wet settled on her shoulder. Kisses spread over her neck and Vic put her head back to give the other more room to move. "Good morning." Francesca mumbled into the crook of her neck. Amused, Vic snorted and turned around. Her hands wrapped around France's neck, who had hers resting on the other's hip. "You mean good noon!" Puzzled, France looked at the clock above the fridge, which read just before twelve. "Oh, yes, I suppose you're right." she laughed and turned back to Victoria. ,,I'm always right!" she giggled and gave France a little kiss, then grabbed a cup, poured herself some coffee and marched out of the kitchen with her blanket cape. Francesca stood there, puzzled, until she realised and quickly ran after her. They still had some time before their departure and since it was raining they couldn't go out anyway.
Victoria dreamily stroked the black ink, which had immortalised itself under the brown skin. A snake snaked between Francesca's breasts and seemed to warn everyone. ,,How did you get all those tattoos?" Vic asked curiously. ,,I've always loved art and I always thought that kind of art suited my character. Have you ever thought about getting some?" France answered her question. ,,Yes, yes I have. The boys are having some and I've always been fascinated by them too. I wanted to get one together with my ex, but then he cheated on me and nothing came of it. I can't think of a motif now, otherwise I would certainly have one already," Vic explained and stroked the dragon on Francesca's right leg. ,,This dragon represents the coat of arms of my family. It stands for protection, family, power, strength and long life. Every Massouri has it ,had it and will have it. Of course, it is only given to those of a certain age and only with the sure consent of the future bearer. I don't want you to think that we tattoo babies." Towards the end they both started to laugh. "What does this snake mean, France?" ,,The snake often stands for something negative, like the snake that seduced Eve into the apple, or generally as a symbol of death. In my case, however, it represents the bond between death and life. The rebirth from my old life into the new," France explained matter-of-factly, stroking the little creature between her breasts. ,,Our flight leaves in two hours, maybe we should get ready," Francesca said and crawled out of bed. Grinning, Victoria looked at the naked body and whistled mischievously. "I could get used to this sight!" she called after France, who disappeared into the bathroom, snorting with amusement.
Half an hour later, the suitcases were packed and both women were fully dressed. ,,I don't want to go home yet!" Victoria whined and threw herself onto the couch. ,,I don't expect to have much to do for the next few days, so what do you say you stay with me? It's almost like a holiday," Francesca made her an offer she was only too happy to accept, but- "We have a meeting with potential management the day after tomorrow," Victoria explained, painfully reminding Francesca that she had originally wanted something other than the bass guitarist in her bed (not that that was a bad thing). Slowly she lowered herself next to the blonde and looked deep into her eyes. "Victoria, I want to ask you something."
