Mattie and Nellie

This story dates from when I lived in Italy. I was there for a year when I was 26 in a small town about 20 kilometres inland from Ancona. I was there as a coordinator for a programme my Paris office was running, but it soon became obvious that it was a gardening leave position and I was really only there while my other projects matured and head office could find something to do with me. As things turned out, I left the firm before that happened and my life took a different turn, but that's not really relevant to the story so imagine if you will a 26-year-old me stuck in small town Italy for what would be at least nine months doing effectively a job that didn't need to be done and drawing a decent wage for signing the occasional paper, writing a monthly report and enjoying the sun and the wine of eastern Italy.

There were only about twenty people at the site, including me - and nine of them weren't even in my division so I had direct oversight over ten people. I had a decent apartment five miles away and I bought my bike with me and was enjoying the freedom of racing along empty roads without having to wear a crash helmet on my daily commute. My bike is a 1969 BSA. It's a 900 CC model and I inherited it from my father who was a sometime collector of vintage motorbikes. By the time I was in Italy, British bikes had pretty much become rarities on the roads, and certainly in Italy, the only models you saw were Japanese and Ducatis. Mine turned heads - especially from those who knew their bike history. Triumphs, Nortons and BSAs still command huge respect in the bike aficionado's world and Nellie, as I call my BSA, is an attractive beast.

One of the people at my site that I officially had nothing to do with was Mattie. She was about 30 and she was a sort of cross between a PA to the Italian head of PR and a legal officer who took care of all the new EU law compliance that was starting to become a big part of the job for all of us in the admin division. Mattie had dark hair that she wore in a shoulder length bob. She was half Italian half French and spoke three languages fluently. Luckily for me, one of them was English. She dressed with the sort of impeccability you only associate with models. She had great legs and I have to admit I used to sneak long looks at them as she walked the long corridor back to her office from the printer we shared just outside my office. I only ever saw her wearing skirts and blouses. She smelled great too, and she occasionally wore glasses that emphasised her intellectual bearing - although when she left them on the printer one day and I tried them the lenses hardly magnified at all.

I'd met Mattie's husband before I met her. He was called Alberto. He had an office in the town near my apartment and we got to know each other because of Nellie. I'd parked at a little cafe in the piazza one afternoon early on in my stay and he'd remarked on the bike. He didn't really know a whole lot about bikes but he showed interest when I talked about how she had come to my family and in time to me. It turned out he lived only a block from my apartment and I gave him a ride back on the bike. Mattie was getting off the bus when we arrived at his apartment (in that part of Italy the bus pretty much stops wherever you ask the driver to stop) and Alberto waved to her and called her over. We exchanged a few words and I introduced myself and mentioned where I worked. They both cried out in surprise that that was the same office as Mattie and Alberto asked me if I would mind giving her a ride into work each day. I said sure. Mattie looked a little unsure, but I assured her there was plenty of room and I was a careful rider. She said she'd give it a go as the bus ride was uncomfortable and she could almost never get a seat.

So for the next morning there I was waiting outside Alberto's and Mattie's apartment at 7:30 AM wearing my suit with a leather jacket on top and sitting astride Nellie with the sun shining down on me and the prospect of a five mile ride with another man's wife sitting behind me. She came out alone and I could see she had not dressed for a motorbike ride. She wore the same high heels as always, a knee-length skirt, white blouse pale blue silk jacket and her small briefcase in her hand. I'd seen that coming and I had a spare jacket in the rack for her. She put it on without protest - although it sure as hell wasn't a designer brand like all the stuff she was used to wearing, put her briefcase in the rack and I helped her climb on.

Nellie doesn't have anything for a passenger to hang onto. There are footrests, and if you reach behind you you can hold onto the luggage rack, but most novices don't feel comfortable doing that, so I could sense her nervousness. I took her hands and placed them on my waist. Then I throttled back (just a little louder than was necessary) and we shot off. Instantly I felt her grip tighten and she moved her hands further round to my stomach. I tensed my muscles. I was in good shape and I was already feeling the thrill of having another man's wife sitting up close to me with her hands on my stomach. I took the bike up to 60 mph when we got to the highway and she kept the same grip. By now I had a hard on and was really enjoying myself. I saw in one mirror how her skirt had ridden up a little. Although I couldn't make it out for certain I was pretty sure she must be exposing her panties. The thought was thrilling.

I slowed down enough as we got close to the office to ask her if she was OK.

"It's wonderful!" she shouted back. She had a huge smile on her face. Throughout that day whenever I saw her she shot me a smile. I couldn't wait for 5 o' clock and the ride home.

As it turned out she had to stay late that night. She wasn't ready to leave until 6:30 because she'd had to wait for a Fed Ex delivery from the States that had been delayed. I pretended I had to work late too and when we left the building I locked up as we were the last two to go. I helped her onto the saddle and then I put the coat around her shoulders. She smiled and put in on properly. I then pointed to her shoes and suggested she took them off as they weren't the best grip for the footrests. She agreed and I took her left foot and supporting her calf with one hand I slipped off her shoe. I walked around the other side and she smiled and stretched out her leg for me to do the same. I took the shoe off and put them both in the rack. I got on the bike in front of her and she moved her hands around to my stomach and gripped me hard. I checked the mirror. The only way she could sit comfortably on a motorbike saddle in that skirt was to pull it up so that basically she was sitting on her panties with the skirt rucked up around her. Her thighs were right against my hips. This was the closest thing I could get to sex with a married woman without actually crossing a line. I revved up and we sped back. I was careful to keep the speed up on the highway because I knew Nellie would start vibrating at about 65 and I wanted Mattie to feel that throbbing warm engine's pulse against her panties as we neared home.

I pulled up a little way from her apartment. She got her shoes out the rack and smoothed down her skirt.

"Same again tomorrow?" I asked.

"Oh yes please, if it's not a trouble" she said back.

It was certainly no trouble. My only problem was hiding my erection. I rode the short distance home and had to jack off in the shower thinking about her.

For the next two weeks Mattie rode with me the same way. She managed to find a suitable jacket, but even as the mornings grew a little cooler as August turned to September she wore the same short skirts. By now she was holding my stomach in a different way - fingers spread out a little and with the faintest teasing hint of a stroke every now and then. She let me take her shoes off in the same way and I would very lightly stroke her calves as I removed each shoe. It was a little game we were playing but one we never articulated for fear of spoiling it.

One evening, Mattie let me take her shoes off and as I got on in front of her she said "Let me show you a different way home. I think you'll like it."

"Sure," I said.

She gripped me tightly and I could feel her knees pressing into me as she pointed out a track I'd never noticed before off the approach road to the highway. It led between two fields and towards the hills from the top of which you could see the sea. We took the track and I was astonished. It was truly beautiful. The late summer fields were a gorgeous array of yellows and browns, and you could see a line of three villages lining the road towards the distant sea.

"Stop here" she said as we reached the top of the hill. I pulled over and she got off the bike.

"Come on" she called and she ran, still barefooted, towards a patch of grass under some trees on the seaward side of the hill's summit.

I raced after her and laughing we made it into a contest who could get there first. She was fit, but I beat her by a couple of yards. She laughed, pretended to be upset and pushed me down. Then she stood over me wagging her finger at me and standing with one foot either side of my head. I looked up at her. She was dusty and sweaty. I had a clear view of her panties. I reached up and pulled her down on top of me. She looked at me and I put my lips against hers and drank her in.

We kissed for about a minute and I moved my hands down her back to her skirt. I pulled it up and stroked her ass over her panties. She sighed and pushed her crotch into mine. She could feel how hard I was and made no effort to resist as I rolled her over onto her back and pulled her panties down. I pushed my tongue between her cunt's lips and she moaned and I flicked her clit with darting jabs of my tongue. I held her on the brink and with one hand pulled my suit pants and boxers down, exposing my cock which she now grabbed and pulled towards her cunt.

I eased inside her and we kissed passionately. I ground into her and she sighed and moaned and gasped and within moments murmured "J'arrive".

I wanted to come too, so I started thrusting more violently. She moved her hands round to my ass and squeezed me with her fingers digging into my cheeks. Her eyes closed and she smiled as she felt me pumping my cum deep into her pussy. It was heaven. I was fucking another man's wife and I'd never felt anything that good before.

We stayed out there until the sun started to hit the horizon. It was a truly beautiful setting and it became the venue for our once-a-week fucking from then on. Once a week was the maximum time we figured she could convincingly tell Alberto she had to work late. He certainly never seemed to suspect anything.

Mattie always insisted I cum inside her and I never used any protection. I assumed she was using something but I can't remember asking. Our sex was amazing and we kept it up until the week I had to leave. I was 27 and I had applied for and got a place on a college course to further my credentials. I moved to London that summer and that was the last time I saw Mattie.

But last Christmas I got a message on a professional site I'm a member of. It was a photo of a beautiful 50-year-old Italian woman with what was evidently her daughter. The daughter looked nothing like Alberto. And I do find myself wondering if the single word below the picture was really that stunning daughter's name. Nellie.