It’s now a cinematic trope: the classic Christmas movie, with the inevitable Christian De Sica who has to juggle between wife and mistress.
I have neither a wife nor a mistress, but this is the time when I had to leave one girl at my house to run to the other. But let’s go in order.
For a few months now, I’ve been seeing both Ninfetta and PiccoLina. Ninfetta is abroad, but I import her to home soil for a few weeks each month. PiccoLina is in my city and we see each other often. Except when the other one is at my place, obviously.
They both know I see other people; they both always find some clothing or object of the other in the Women’s Drawer (where I put the objects that “inexplicably“, every single time, the girl of the moment forgets).
This is Ninfetta’s week. I notify PiccoLina that I won’t be available this week. She tries to figure out if I’ll spend it with her bitter rival (whom she doesn’t hesitate to call “slut“, “escort“, “fish with inflatable lips“, etc.) or with others. I’ve been very clear: it shouldn’t matter to her who I’m with; it’s my choice. So I don’t disclose. I tell her I have to leave and go out of Milan, when instead I’ll spend all the time at home having sex with Ninfetta. But she’s not stupid.
For both of them, when they’re at my place it’s like we’re living together. PiccoLina orders furniture and decorates my house, leaving her touch and showing the other girl a feminine presence.
Ninfetta, on the other hand, acts (or pretends to be) the caring girlfriend: she dyes my beard, gives massages, and tons of great sex.
This time Ninfetta is a bit different. She seems less into it. She was supposed to come a week ago but “inexplicably” missed the train (actually, there is an explanation but I’ll discover it – alas – only many months later). And, moreover, she’s on her period.
A warrior like me isn’t scared by a little blood on his sword. But she doesn’t want to hear about it, she says to wait a few days for it to end before having sex… And she’s always fiddling with that phone, a bit less present than usual. I’m quite annoyed by this; something doesn’t add up. And this feeling will make possible what I’m about to tell.
PiccoLina writes to me:
SCROLL RIGHT TO READ IN ENGLISH – Scroll right to read in Russian
Ok, this is PiccoLina’s way of speaking, her essential glossary: by “sausage” or “little sausage” she means penis; by “Naughty/Naughty” she means the person you’re fucking; by “games” she means sex toys.
Moreover, despite being a pipsqueak, she has the same authority as Napoleon. She doesn’t ask: she commands. She doesn’t say “please”; she demands. Especially when… “she’s throbbing”!
I’m very hesitant. I strongly believe in respect and transparency: leaving one girl at home to fuck another isn’t aligned with my values.
It’s also true that Ninfetta is behaving badly: she “lost” the plane, delaying her arrival by a week (and making me waste a lot of money on tickets), she’s not very connected and sexually unavailable. Ok, she’s on her period, but she doesn’t want to hear about anal sex and even blowjobs – her pride and excellence – are done with less spontaneity. And you know how much I care about blowjobs!
Nothing, Ninfetta neglects my sausage, I neglect her and decide to let myself be tempted by PiccoLina’s brutal advances.
Well… she’s naughty! What can you do?
We’ve reached threats! Now we’re fighting! I can only capitulate…
And let’s wash the sausage, then!
I tell Ninfetta that a friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend and I have to go console him. She doesn’t object to anything, I think she’s even happy… Something’s not right, I feel her distant.
I pick up PiccoLina from her student residence and we rush to the nearest hotel. “What time will you leave the room?” they ask me. Lina looks like a 14-year-old, I’m embarrassed to let them understand that I’m there to fuck her and be taken for a pedophile… I imply that we’re father and daughter, traveling and that we just need to rest for a couple of hours during the trip.
PiccoLina is super horny. Rabbit tail anal plug, nipple stimulator used on the clitoris, various lubricants. We spend two excellent hours of sex, I think it’s among the best fucks we’ve had together. I take PiccoLina home. She’s super affectionate:
And she’ll be even more so in the following days.
I return home, Ninfetta is busy with her things, she doesn’t suspect anything. The next morning, she finds me at the Mac.
Her: “What are you doing?”,
Me: “Buying some tickets”
Her: “for whom?”
Me: “For you. I’m sending you home early. You leave this afternoon”
Her: “but why!?”
Me: “Ninfetta, you’re not present, you don’t fuck me, you’re not affectionate, you’re elsewhere in your mind… there’s no point in dedicating time to you”
She starts jumping around all worried and is finally affectionate. The bitch.
A week of great sex begins, provocative photos. We have anal sex, and as the French Goddess teaches, the ass is the way to the heart.
She’s finally caring and proactive. She even sends me some discreet nudes while I’m at work.
At the end of the week, I take her to the airport.
I’m a bit in a hurry, because – like a good De Sica – I’ve arranged for the same evening a meeting with Teppistella: another girl, super young, lover of social causes who had been asking to see me for a while.
Teppistella finishes her pro-Palestine demonstration and comes to my place in full protest camouflage gear, complete with a 6-foot peace flag. She’s covered in bruises from getting beaten by police batons, tired and all disheveled. I decide to cheer her up by taking her to a Michelin-starred sushi place, an experience she’s never had.
She washes up and changes at my place. She puts on an evening dress. She’s stunning, shining like the moon in the desert.
We arrive at the restaurant. Ninfetta starts texting. She missed her train; she needs help finding another one. She’s in some godforsaken place in Germany, surrounded by sketchy people, at a station forgotten by God. She can’t solve anything on her own, so I’m forced to help her, with Teppistella next to me pretending to understand. I – increasingly like De Sica – find myself managing both situations.
Finally we get home. Finally, Teppistella and I allow ourselves a moment of passion. We start undressing. We admire each other, touch, lick. We caress, cuddle, stroke. She’s young, so I go slow. But right at the best part… the phone rings! Ninfetta is still in trouble. Teppistella smiles nervously, saying “I’m tired from the demonstration, I want to go home.”
She’s right, it was supposed to be her night. But how can I leave Ninfetta alone?
The next morning PiccoLina comes to me. “Not bad!” – I think – “three girls in 12 hours!”.
She runs toward me, jumps into my arms. Then she steps back, turns me around, looks at me and says: “Hey, what’s that giant hickey on your neck?!”
So that’s what that neck pain was with Ninfetta. The bitch wanted to mark her territory. That hadn’t happened to me even when I was 15.
PiccoLina doesn’t take it very well
PiccoLina extorts from me the identity of the girl I hosted for a week. The drama begins:
Anyway, the competition between the two is quite intense… I’d let you judge for yourselves, but PiccoLina hasn’t authorized me to post – even anonymized – her photos. I’ll just leave you Ninfetta’s butt.
On the other hand, Piccolina and I look beautiful together!
And finally this is me (still De Sica) talking to my worried father friends (Boldi):
