Part One —
Wed 17th July 2019 – Arrival
The villa was beautiful, perched on a secluded outreach looking down on the promenade of the old fishing town of Boccadasse. It was a big house with 3 bedrooms and a large swimming pool at the rear surrounded by trees, set in a private garden.
Gillian was given one of the bedrooms at the front that looked out onto the harbour and promenade below. The sea was a fantastic glittering expanse of azure as the boats and ships shuttled across it, coming and going from the bay. She unpacked her rucksack slowly, frequently stopping to gaze out at the panoramic view.
She had travelled light without much fuss; 2 pairs of jeans, and the same amount of plain t-shirts. She had also taken a couple of dark green vests with straps as it would be hot, as well as a three nice tops for the evening. For lighter wear she had a couple of pairs of navy shorts, and for her feet, trainers and some brown sandals.
She knew there would be a swimming pool, so in addition to her one piece dark blue costume, she had purchased a couple of bikinis from the shops in Manchester city centre, which she was a bit embarrassed about wearing.
She laid them both out on the bed biting her lip looking at the top and bottom of each, thinking they looked too small. She had tried them both on at home, a light blue plain one and the other with red and white horizontal stripes. The light blue one was fine although she felt a bit awkward wearing it. She didn’t think that she would wear the stripy one at all as it was way too skimpy and the tiny top really struggled to hold her generous 38C breasts. It just managed to preserve her modesty and no more.
On the flight back home a few days later, it was funny thinking back to that moment in her room when she stuffed the stripy bikini back into her rucksack, telling herself that she did not want anyone to see her in that, especially after what would end up happening over those next days.
As needs must, they had planned to go down to a couple of shops in the neighbourhood to stock up on food and drink for the next few days stay.
Gillian decided to change out of her jeans and t shirt, which were hot and sticky from the train journey from Milan. She stripped to her bra and panties and briefly looked at herself in the full-length wardrobe door mirror. Her slim size 8 frame did not have any fat on it and those long legs gave her that impressive 5ft 9″ height. Her white brassiere struggled with the weight of her 38C cup breasts that she personally disliked, despite them giving her a great figure. She thought they sagged a bit. At times she was able to appreciate that she had a good body and was an attractive woman, but it never seemed to give her the self-confidence she craved. She still felt crippled by chronic shyness.
She slipped on her new dark green vest. It was quite tight and accentuated her boobs, which she was not that comfortable about, and always tried to disguise. Briefly she contemplated changing into a baggy t-shirt, but decided to go with it. She put on a pair of cut- off jeans she had made out of a charity shop buy, and applied some sun screen on her milky white shoulders and arms, and up around her neck below her cropped short hairline, and was ready to go.
Marta and Andoni were waiting for her in the hallway. Marta had a pretty little white mini dress with floral patterns printed on, and Andoni looked the epitome of Italian cool in a designer t-shirt, shades and light blue jeans. He wouldn’t parade around in horrible khaki shorts, looking like a British tourist abroad. The genuine warmth from them both was always welcome, and Gillian felt relaxed and at home.
There was a long walk down some pretty steep stairs to the old fishing town. It really was completely unspoiled, and the lack of cars and modernity was quite strange at first, like being shot into a past long forgotten. The buildings in the port were pink and yellow sandstone and it gave the impression of a watercolour painting, the vivid riot of colour and character, a delight to the eyes.
They went to a local market shop buying bread, fresh pasta and also some fish, freshly caught from the harbour. The heat was intense, but a strong afternoon breeze blew in from the sea cooling them. Gillian wasn’t used to the heat like her Italian friends, and quickly felt quite fatigued.
Each one of them took a bag to even out the load; Andoni’s clinking with three bottles of red wine and some beers to add to what they had brought with them from Milan. Stopping off at a local cafe, which was milling with old fishermen and their families, gave her a genuine glimpse into small town coastal Italian life with the view across the harbour sealing the idyllic romance of the place.
Gillian felt a pang of regret that she did not have someone special to be there with her in Italy, her previous romance having broken up almost three months prior, once again foundering on the rocks of anxiety as she had recoiled into herself.
She was on istanbul travesti an upward swing now, having started hillwalking up in the Lake District and Pennines over the past few weeks, which had been real fun and a welcome antidote to the stifling city life. The invitation to come over to Italy and spend a few days in Genoa with Marta and her boyfriend, had come at the right time. She felt good again and she wanted to enjoy life now.
The steep climb back up to the villa was taxing in the mid-afternoon heat, but they made it and collapsed into the cool welcoming shade of the lounge. After they had some water, cheese and bread, Marta said they were going to have a rest and maybe a swim before dinner. Gillian went off to her room, pulling out her dog-eared paperback of ‘The Lovely Bones’. She read for a bit, then came out after an hour.
Marta and Andoni were in the swimming pool larking around as Gillian emerged out onto the patio. Marta called to Gillian asking her if she wanted to come in, but she declined and sat on one of the pool chairs that they had earlier put cushions on.
She gazed at the blue sky watching the shimmer of the trees around the garden contrast against it as she looked heavenwards. Marta and Andoni were splashing about in the pool laughing; their merriment cutting through the silence.
The thought of going back in and getting changed into her swimming costume was scuppered when she noticed that Marta had discarded her bikini top at the side of the pool and was frolicking topless. Feeling a little embarrassed that Marta was half undressed in the pool, she firmly decided not to join them.
After another ten minutes Marta climbed out of the pool and walked over to Gillian. It was a little disconcerting for her to see her Italian friend standing in front of her clad only in a tiny pair of black bikini bottoms.
Her long black hair was slicked back and Gillian tried not to stare at her huge DD cup bosoms with massive areolas, hanging heavy on her wet torso. She was all curves, her hourglass figure almost cartoon like, but healthy and toned with a perfect flat stomach and shapely thighs, very much a beautiful curvaceous young Italian woman in her prime. Gillian wished for an instant that she was confident like that instead of tall, skinny and awkward with her own heavy boobs.
Her attention was soon diverted by Andoni wandering over, white towel in hand for Marta. Gillian had to supress a smile as she caught sight of his beautiful body, thinking stupidly that he looked like a model, all sculpted torso and perfectly toned.
He was in a pair of tight black trunks, the very pronounced bulge of an obviously extremely large penis showing through the stretched fabric as she quickly tried to avert her eyes in embarrassment. Andoni asked her why she hadn’t come in, Gillian replying rather weakly that she was “a bit tired”.
They said that they were going to prepare that evening’s meal, which they would have on the patio. By then it was rapidly getting towards dinner time, and nightfall came quickly in Genova. There was a good satellite TV reception in the villa and Gillian watched a bit of the BBC then went for a shower to freshen up before the evening meal. She hurriedly finished showering and vacated the bathroom, going back to her room to dress.
It turned out a lovely evening as they sat outside under candlelight. Andoni had prepared a Sicilian pork dish called ‘Spitini’ which was meat rolls stuffed with cheese and breadcrumbs, then grilled. It was exquisite, and with the red wine; a heady taste sensation. The pace of dinner was really drawn out as her two Italian friends swopped stories about Milan and the work they were doing.
Gillian and Marta shared some reminiscences about their time in York, and there were plenty of laughs all round. It felt so carefree and easy that Gillian wished life was like this all the time. She did feel lonely as the night went on, and when Marta and Andoni called it a night just before 12, she went back to her room and gazed out of the window for a couple of hours reflecting on her life and what was left for her back home in England.
Teaching English in Italy seemed so out of reach after she failed that TEFL course back before Xmas. That was a complete waste of time as her confidence failed her and she floundered in the practical examinations. She would have to file that away as a low point in her professional journey. After that long day of travel and movement they all retired early, Gillian finding sleep came easily.
Thursday 18th July – Awakening
The next day they rose early and went into Genova city proper. Marta looked beautiful in a little white sundress with black stripes across the bodice accentuating her tiny waist. The plunging neckline showing off her ample cleavage completed the picture. Gillian felt a little jealous that Marta looked so good, as she stood there in her navy shorts, sandals and pink t-shirt, her natural prettiness struggling to overcome her functional istanbul travestileri appearance.
Andoni was immaculate as usual, lightweight navy trousers and an open sky-blue shirt complementing his swarthy good looks. Gillian felt like the dowdy colourless foreigner. She resolved to dress up a bit later and found herself contemplating buying a dress when they got into Genova town, something that she almost never wore.
It was about 3 miles along the picturesque promenade to the main town, so they got a local bus. Genoa was beautifu,l as Marta and Andoni showed her around the old city and took her to the Piazza De Ferrari where the Opera was.
There was a real sense of history in the city, as they wandered around in the warm mid- morning sunshine. A visit to the old harbour and a look at the aquarium was also undertaken, before the morning cool evaporated into the midday heat.
After a lovely light lunch in a harbour cafe, Andoni took them to the museum at the ‘Palazo Rosso’, its art collection housing work by such masters as ‘Van Eyck’.
Marta and Gillian colluded into going for a look around the shops near there, leaving Andoni to go off for a wander and meet his friend Mario, who was studying at the Italian Institute Of Technology nearby.
The two girls went off into the shopping arcade area, Gillian feeling her customary nervousness when surrounded by women’s fashion and couture. She never seemed to have the confidence to dress boldly or even glamourously, finding fashion emporiums and women’s shops imposing and intimidating. There were beautiful dresses in the windows, and she daydreamed of wearing one and stepping out of the shadow of her self- imposed demureness.
Looking wistfully at a couple of dresses, she hesitantly confided in Marta that she wanted to buy one, which excited her friend, who was always trying to bring her out of her shell, going right back to college days in York.
They spent an hour in the mall looking at various dresses, Marta wearing her down with her enthusiasm and exuberance, until she agreed to try a couple of them on. The first one looked nice, but the skirt section fanned out too much, she wanted something she could wear during the day and night, and that one was definitely evening wear. She felt she looked ridiculous with it on, although Marta assured her that she looked very sexy.
The second one made her feel a bit nervous once she had struggled into it in the changing room. It was white with a red floral print which she thought was beautiful and eye catching.
Annoyingly she had to remove her bra in the changing room as it overlapped the tight supported bustier part of the dress. However, bra-less, it still held her figure immaculately, tapering in under the bust which really accentuated the swell of her bosoms. The size 8 bodice flattered her slim long figure although it was very short in the skirt section just reaching past the top of her thighs.
She looked at herself timidly in the mirror, thinking it was a bit revealing, in a way almost afraid of her own reflection. She really couldn’t see herself wearing this dress out anywhere, it was far too revealing.
Beginning to take it back off, she felt annoyed with herself. She had given in again to her inner voices, and retreated into her little shell. How she wished for a drink right at that moment. Some courage and steel.
She bit her lip and looked in the mirror, shuddering slightly as she let the dress float back down and rest gently on her thighs. Gillian leaned forward a little letting her cleavage almost tip out, the white cups of her breasts straining against the thin straps.
She began flushing with embarrassment. Most of her adult life had been spent covering them up with baggy jumpers, loose t-shirts and polo necks. She hated people looking at her, preferring to remain the invisible woman. She heard Marta call out to her, asking how it was.
“I dunno, it’s a bit too small on me” ventured Gillian.
Marta responded by asking if she needed a size 10 instead.
“No, it’s the right size, the dress is just too small, it’s not really me.”
Marta appeared at the curtain and peeked her head around. Gillian instinctively put her arm across her chest covering herself as Marta giggled.
“Come out, let’s see” she coaxed.
Gillian shuffled gingerly out of the cubicle into the shop floor.
“Oh wow” gushed Marta as Gillian stood there awkwardly in the dress.
She wouldn’t let her back into the fitting room, insisting she bought it. Marta kept raving about how it showed off Gillian’s long legs and great figure. She embarrassingly joked to Marta that she was all legs and boobs in it.
“No, you look great , so sexy and beautiful.”
After a couple of minutes Gillian found herself getting used to being in the dress and began feeling slightly emboldened as she stood there in the shop. In fact, Gillian began to feel quite good with it on, almost like a different person. Despite having second and even third thoughts, she decided travesti istanbul to buy it in an uncharacteristic act of impulsiveness.
She fumbled with her credit card at the till and almost took it back to the rack, but Marta’s insistent smiling face barred that course of action.
It was almost 2pm by now and very hot outside. Andoni was at a cafe back down at the harbourside, so they walked down through the town streets to meet him. They got to the cafe and saw Andoni and Mario sitting outside. Andoni embarrassed Gillian by loudly saying “hey Gillian, bella,bella” at the sight of her.
He was being friendly and charming though, and always got away with it, despite making her blush. She thought he was teasing at first, but he praised her beauty sincerely and all three including his friend said she looked lovely.
Stealing a sideways glance at him, she quickly realised that his friend was gorgeous. Gillian felt her heartbeat increase as she was introduced to him; his cool blue eyes which met her gaze with a disarming friendliness, contrasting with his dark sallow skin and black cropped hair.
On the way down Marta had told her that Mario was “lovely…before pausing and adding “and single”, giving her a wink, which made Gillian turn crimson with embarrassed shyness. She was feeling the romance of the place washing over her and was now getting all these silly ideas of some handsome Italian man sweeping her up into his arms.
They didn’t have time to stay for a drink as Mario had to go, but they arranged to meet him tomorrow night when they planned to go out on the town for some drinks and dancing. That sounded exciting to Gillian, a bit of socializing and Italian nightlife!
It was just before 3pm when they got back to the villa. Gillian went into her room and sat on the bed gazing at the brown shopping bag on the bed. It was swelteringly hot, and her mouth was parched.
Removing her brown sandals, she padded out into the hallway, hearing Marta and Andoni talking in their room. Their native tongue sounded so fast and impassioned even though she had no idea of what they were talking about. She helped herself to a large clear glass of crystal cool water from the fridge before taking it back into her room.
Her t-shirt was still sticking to her back from the heat and she slipped it off along with her shorts leaving her in her bra and panties.
Deciding to try the dress on again, she slipped off her bra letting her breasts hang free. It felt cool and relaxing just to be in her panties as she rummaged in the bag taking out the little dress. She held it up against herself, breathing in and trying to suppress a feeling of regret at this impulsive purchase.
She stepped into the dress, pulling it up over her hips and reached around the back to fasten the two clasps pulling at the bust section tucking her breasts into the cups as they pushed together to give a full cleavage line, thinking her breasts looked like two ridiculously large over-ripe melons straining in a basket. Not sexy at all, in her mind.
Despite that, she tentatively admired herself in the dress running her hands over the tight waist. She again let herself off the hook and felt a little bit sexy and actually attractive; and was happy to stare at her own reflection in the mirror for a change, conceding that it made her legs look great.
She heard a knock at the door and Marta came in wearing a tiny white bikini. Seeing she had changed, she once again complemented her on the dress, staying to chat for a few minutes, playfully asking Gillian if she liked Mario; kidding her that she would set them up.
Marta insisted that she show Andoni her new dress which made her very self- conscious. However, she knew she would never wear it unless she was able to gain confidence in it, so followed her friend out into the hallway.
Andoni came out into the room, his handsome sculpted body only covered by some tiny trunks barely able to contain the distractingly huge bulge of his manhood. Gillian felt she was on show and fear gripped her, feelings of flight racing through her mind. However, it was too late to scuttle away now.
She felt her cheeks burn when Andoni was effusive in his praise, compliments tripping off his tongue and admiration written all over his face. Marta didn’t seem to harbour any jealousy and did not mind Andoni’s vocal admiration of her appearance. She actually encouraged her boyfriend’s positive reaction.
Both her and Andoni were going out to the pool to lie and then have a swim, Marta inviting Gillian to join them. Despite the embarrassment, Gillian was feeling a bit more confident about herself after that, although she was still nervous about wearing her bikini in front of Andoni, or anyone really.
She erred on the side of caution and decided to wear her blue one and changed into the bikini bottoms, putting a green wide necked t-shirt over her bikini top.
Andoni and Marta were already outside when she emerged from the villa. Andoni was rubbing sun lotion on Marta’s back. She was topless again, her large breasts already oiled and glistening in the sun. Gillian felt a little bit nervous, biting her lip as she sat down on the lounger, gingerly taking her t-shirt off, feeling exposed, but also prim and overdressed, compared to Marta.