#jojo formaggio

It’s the peak of summer in Italy, and there’s no relief even with the gentle breeze from the window that causes the curtains to flutter. The sheets are scratchy under your body with most of them having been messily strewn halfway onto the floor.

It didn’t help that Formaggio is between your parted legs, his hard cock sitting even hotter against your thigh even through the thin material of his boxers. His hands are on you and drag across your skin that’s coated in a sheen of sweat with every touch.

Your head spins as you moan into the kiss while your own hands grasp at his shoulders, torn between tugging him closer and wanting to push him away due to the heat.

Formaggio’s mouth swallows your moans, and you can feel the way his lips curl upward into a grin before he pulls away to plant open-mouthed kisses starting at your jaw and trailing down your neck.

“S’too hot for this,” you breathe out despite how you tilt your head back to give him more room, and the feeling of his lips dragging across your heated skin has more sweat pooling under your back. He chuckles against the flesh before continuing to lavish your neck in kisses and nips alike.

“Guess I’ll have to distract you from it then, yeah?”

Before you can retort, his tongue is licking a wet stripe from the base of your throat upwards as the muscle collects the rivulet of sweat that’s collected there. You gasp and playfully slap a hand against one of his bare shoulders with a cry.

“You’re so gross!”

Formaggio only laughs as his lips curl upwards with that same sharp, toothy grin.

“Yeah, but you like it,” he purrs and wiggles his arched eyebrows down at you even while you roll your eyes. But then he’s leaning in with a bead of sweat trickling down his temple before his lips are connecting with yours again. 

Formaggio’s hips give a roll to grind his clothed cock against your panty-clad pussy, and he grunts into your mouth at the friction while his fingers twitch at your hips. One of his hands trails upwards, fingertips dragging along your damp skin before he tugs at one of your bra straps with a snap.

“Maybe getting rid of this will help you cool off.”

You can’t help but snort at that, knowing very well that ridding yourself of what little clothing you still had on wouldn’t do much good in this kind of heat. But you reach behind yourself regardless to unhook your bra as Formaggio tugs his boxers down and kicks them to the side, the material joining the heap of clothes that the two of you had stripped yourselves of earlier. Your panties follow suit to leave the both of you bare with your skin still sticky from the heat.

He settles between your legs again with his hands dragging along your calves before lingering at your knees. His cock stands proudly between his legs, throbbing in want and need as it juts towards you. Formaggio shifts closer, and his fingertips drag across the skin of your hips.

“Still think you can handle the heat, babe?”

He grins down at you as the tip of his cock drags along your dripping slit before nudging your hole. You watch as he lets out a choked laugh when the cockhead threatens to push past your ring of muscle, and his fingers twitch against you. All you can do is hum in response and lazily wrap your arms around his neck.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

His hips give an experimental roll forward as his cock slowly stretches your pussy, and his body slumps forward to press his chest against your own and to rest his forehead at your shoulder.

“Of course I can,” he murmurs to you, and his tone is cocky even as it morphs into a low groan once he’s fully seated inside of you. That has you sucking in a deep breath with your head falling backwards to rest on the pillow while sweat-soaked strands of hair cling to your forehead. His breath is hot against your already heated skin with each pant and huff as he begins to rock in and out of you.

It’s almost too much: from the way his curved cock hits that spot deep inside of you so sweetly to the combined heat of the room and how his body is pressed so tightly against yours. Yet all you can do is writhe underneath Formaggio with your hands scrambling for purchase at his back as the sound of skin slapping against wet skin fills the air along with the squelch of your pussy sucking him in every bit further.

His fingers grasp at your hips tighter while he pounds into you and tugs you down even further onto his length, almost as if you might try to run. Yet you never do, not even in moments like these with the heat and sweat that sticks to you both like a second skin. And you stay long after you’ve wondered if you were having a heat stroke or hitting your high as your limbs trembled and your pussy clenched with a wetness staining the sheets underneath your bodies even further.