One of the advantages of living in Italy is that trades people have long lunch breaks and you can get some really good trade between one thirty and five in the afternoon. I have two favourite hunting grounds: the open air fruit market and the supermarket. Most of the fine young hunks go home to mama for lunch, but the sexually hungry ones can occasionally be tempted to cut the maternal apron strings and eat dick instead of pasta. Of course, nine times out of ten it's mostly only physical, and I can't even remember their names afterwards. In fact sometimes we don't even get round to actually exchanging names as our mouths are otherwise engaged, so to speak. But once in a wonderful while you meet that special guy, and some spark ignites and the heat that is produced tells you that you're both cooked.

Alessio is a case in point.

There's an open air market just down from my house, and the best time to go shopping is around seven in the morning if you want everything fresh. Around two in the afternoon is better if you want a good price or, as in my case, if you want to get fresh with the guy on the fruit stall. Most of these stalls are run by unhappily married couples, and most of the men are pretty rough and ready, having been ruined by their wives or too much wine and pasta. But the second and even third generation is really something else. You have to keep your eyes open for them, however, as they only help out at odd times since their doting parents usually sent them off to some prestigious university and hopefully on to better things. Alessio entered my horny horizon late one July.

I was in search of apricots and too busy examining the meagre selection of fruit to notice the juicy abundance standing right next to me. It was nearly closing time, and he'd already started stacking boxes prior to loading them on his father's truck. He was extremely well stacked himself, was bare-chested and brown as a berry. He gave me a paper bag so I could help myself. I almost said, "How am I going to get all of you in this little brown bag?" but thought better of it. It was such a dumb line. I was so taken aback by the beauty of him that I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Just stuffed the bag with apricots and turned to go. I was so overcome I almost forgot to pay.

"It's ok," he said in Italian, "those are too ripe for our regular customers. Please accept them as a gift." His generosity made me feel even more embarrassed, and I began to wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

I heard a voice rather like mine say. "Can I at least offer you a drink?"

He smiled happily and said, "That would be great. Just give me five more minutes, and I'm all yours." I wanted to offer to help him load the truck, but knew I'd probably drop everything given the state I was in. I mean I'm only twenty five and was acting like someone three times my age. This guy was sent from heaven.

I just stood there and loved every muscle as he picked up two or three boxes at a time and put them on the truck. I'd intended taking him to a bar nearby, but he offered me a ride home and casually asked if he could come up. In fact, if he hadn't taken all the initiative I'd still be standing there with the apricots. "You'll have to excuse the state of me," he said. "Do you mind if I wash up?" What could I say except yes. I gave him a towel and showed him to the bathroom.

I'd just about had time to pour him a beer and was thinking of inviting him to stay to lunch, when he came out of the bathroom and into my mouth, so to speak. He just pulled me to him and kissed me. His tongue was just as muscular as the rest of him, and my mouth responded like apple to treacle. Still it wasn't your actual "shove it down your throat" aggressive kind of kiss. It seemed to be more intent on getting to know me, and it was deep and exploratory. A shiver of satisfaction went through me as I realized that soon he would be continuing the investigation with his dick.

Meanwhile, my hands were doing their own exploratory work with his body, and it didn't take me long to find my horny way to his butt, which was so hot and hard and luscious that I wanted to feed off it. He obviously had similar ideas about me, and I found my clothes leaving my body in quick succession as he undressed me and spread me out on the bed like lamb on a platter. Except very soon I became lamb on a spit, and sizzled succulently as he roasted my ass real good, and then started to marinate me with the sweet juice coming out of his dick. Then he licked me clean and sucked me dry. In less than an hour after giving me the apricots, he'd made a three course meal out of me. Mouth, ass and dick. Later he told me he'd been worshipping me from afar for almost a week and thought I would never notice him. I was flattered he'd found me so attractive but somewhat surprised I'd had the same effect on him as he'd had on me.

So far it had been electric, and I was still tingling from his fucking and sucking. Afterwards we got under the shower together, and I lathered him up real good and soon felt like liquid soap myself as I slid and slithered against his rock ribbed chest. I massaged his magnificent butt, sipped the shower dew from his pecs, and wallowed wantonly in his wet mouth. If it had been at all possible, I would have absorbed every precious pore of him. I felt him gently yield to my caresses, become soft with love for me, and then hard with desire again. Now it was my turn to feed from his dick and nuzzle his ass and devour his big, brown, beautiful roast beef body. I rubbed him down first with a towel, then with my tongue, and then ground my groin against him. I teased and tantalized and tormented him. I oiled him and I broiled him. I tasted him, and I basted him. Then when he was finally ready for the oven, I made a three course meal out of him too. Later we both agreed it was probably the finest lunch either of us had ever had.