One hot, sultry August night, I sat watching a performance of 'The Tempest' in the newly opened Globe Theatre in Rome. The guy playing Caliban was so blatantly sexy, so bestial and earthy, that he immediately had what I call the 'wet/dry effect' on me. Dry throat, wet dick. He was clad in the narrowest of linen loin cloths and the perspiration he produced during the performance made it cling to his crotch like a soggy ice cream wrapper. An ice cream wrapper bulging with the promise of delicious flavours and untasted delights. But what really caught my eye and sent my head spinning was the size of his magnificent nipples. I had only seen nipples that large and succulent once before. It was during a Shakespeare summer course I had organized when I first came to Italy which culminated with me having a wild master and slave affair with one of my students. Now, suddenly and unexpectedly, I was enjoying a repeat performance of deja vu. What's more, I was sitting in the front row and could have reached out and touched him. In fact, strange tingles were sweeping through me as several times I had the impression he was aware of my interest and could feel his eyes on me when he was supposed to be observing the action on stage. Once, as he crouched behind a bush only inches away from my left foot, I distinctly saw him adjusting his dick beneath the flimsy material. Whether it was out of modesty or a deliberate attempt to provoke me I couldn't tell but it was strangely erotic interacting with this heavenly hunk of an actor and wondering whether it was make-believe or reality.

I loved the way he moved and the low guttural timbre of his voice. He grunted and growled and groaned about his unhappy lot and I longed to jump on stage and console him but in a way that would have shocked the audience. It was an excellent production and the island sprites and spirits seemed one with the tangled undergrowth and trees. My mind went off on flights of fancy as I imagined Caliban's tendrils wrapping themselves round me and weaving me into his horny world of fantasy. At the same time, I couldn't wait for him to stand up so I could see what he looked like erect so to speak. He had long legs and arms but they were usually in deformed, twisted positions so it was difficult to imagine how my homo erectus would be at curtain call. During the interval I attempted to quench my thirst for him with a couple of long cool beers. I looked up his name in the program. It was Cosimo Ferelli. I thought of Valerio, my first Italian lover, who I'd met during my course on Shakespeare's Wooden O. I smiled to myself. How strangely significant that the lusty lads and lasses in Italy usually have an erotic vowel sound at the end of their names. 'O' for the boys and 'a' for the girls. Even their genitals finish in the same way: 'cazzo' for him, 'fica' for her.

Naturally I'm more interested in the ohs than the ahs. Except maybe when I'm taking the passive role and can combine both. I'd done that with Valerio who'd taken me through the whole vocal range of ooohhs and aaahhhs as he fucked me into next week, next month and sometimes what seemed to be next year. He told me he got a great kick out of 'fucking the teacher' and I must say I'd never been fucked so long or so strong and I'd recommend it any day. It does wonders for the student/teacher relationship. It first started at a lake just outside Rome. It's called Anguillara, which means eel, and I certainly got my share of eels that year. Valerio's uncle had a restaurant there. All my students, including Valerio, had gone there for a picnic at the end of the course and afterwards he invited me to go for a swim. I soon discovered he was one of those people who look better with their clothes off. Their naked bodies give them an extra dimension so to speak. I mean he was pretty attractive dressed but I didn't really flip till I saw him take his t-shirt off. He had the most spectacular body and it was revealed to me by degrees. If you've ever watched some handsome hunk peel off a tight t-shirt then you'll know what I mean and hopefully you'll have experienced those sensually suspended seconds when his eyes and mouth are momentarily covered and you can eye and mentally mouth and covet those muscular curves as they come into view like a Venetian blind opening slowly to reveal unparalleled vistas. In fact Valerio's six-pack very much resembled a Venetian blind and I was sure there were definitely unparalleled vistas waiting for me below. Moreover, I'd never seen larger or juicier nipples on anyone, male or female. My dick did a double take wondering what the rest of him must be like. He dived in the lake and then stood up in the water shaking his head doggy fashion. This sent cascades of fortunate drops tumbling down his chest encircling his nipples like a sparkling diadem and making them even more pronounced. They glistened and shone in the sun like medals on a general's chest. I stood transfixed drinking them in. My mouth watering, my legs trembling. He beckoned for me to me to join him and I moved slowly forward like one in a dream. By now, I was so intoxicated by the horny sight of him I could have walked on water. Unfortunately I couldn't put my powers of potential levitation to the test as I had no option but to dive in and cover my dignity and quell the heat searing through my delirious dick. Valerio cut through the water with such powerful strokes, his legs propelling him forward at such a pace that I wanted to be boarded, 'overboarded' and submerged forever by those heaving thighs.

We swam out to the middle of the lake, far from the shore and the other students. We floated on our backs and watched the sun set. At least he was looking at the sunset, I was watching his nipples turn a gorgeous gold. I swear if they'd been fruit they'd have been the pick of the crop. On an impulse I reached out and touched one. He didn't seem surprised but laughed and pulled me closer, brushing my dick in the process. Then he kissed me. Soon we were splashing and kicking and grabbing each other under the water. He pulled down my shorts and did his best to fuck me in the water but wouldn't you know I chose that moment to get body cramps. I wasn't a very strong swimmer and I was beginning to feel the chill of the lake. He helped me back to shore and took me to a log cabin belonging to his uncle. He wrapped me in a blanket and gave me a brandy. Then he lit a paraffin stove. He rubbed me dry and then slipped under the blanket with me. I was immediately warm, and hard, again and wasted no more time exploring his body, sucking those luscious nipples and finally feeling his 'wooden o', or rather oar inside me.

He was a fantastic lover. He must have been nine years younger than me but he sure knew what to do with his (and my) equipment. He also had a great sense of humour and quite a good vocabulary. Especially in culinary terms. It seemed his uncle had hired an English chef at one time who'd taught him all the different ways of preparing meat. He told me he was going to baste my dick with his tongue and then broil it between his hot lips and finally roast it in his mouth. And he drove us both demented by doing all three in slow suck-session. Then he said he was going to give me a pastry lesson and skewer me good with his pudding spoon and give me my just desserts. This he duly did while working my dick up to a froth and a frenzy in his hand.

"It's time for the meringue pie," he said as he ground his hips into me and twitched his dick inside me, "Let's make sure we don't waste any," and proceeded to turn my ass into a butt blender while he worked my dick with his hand until every drop of sperm in my balls shot out of my love tube like icing oozing through a cake dispenser. I swear I produced enough cream to ice a whole cake and he made my butt feel like buttermilk. The only thing missing was the cherry on the pie. He'd fucked me doggy fashion and while it was great to feel myself wedged between those terrific thighs while his dick ravaged my asshole with fast deep manly strokes, I missed the sight and nourishment of those nipples of his. I wanted to pull on them like the teats of a cow and suck the shit out of them while he made a milk churn out of my butt as he had that afternoon. Fortunately we had a few more weeks together before the summer was over and I had to return to England. By the end of it all I don't know which was sorer, his nipples or my ass. I only know he turned my butt into a pussy that purred as I happily nipped at his nipples and clawed at his chest while he did the rest. I tell you man by the end of that summer I was well and truly fucked. But like all good things it finally did have to come to an end. He got into hotel management and for 'business reasons' had to marry the boss's daughter. I was heartbroken when I heard and consoled myself by thinking she couldn't possibly have nipples as big as his. But I sure as hell missed them. Now here I was back in Italy with a rosy replica staring me in the face. I went back to my seat determined to make my presence felt.

During the second act, it became clearer than ever that Caliban was interested. He delivered certain words and phrases directly to me and gazed at me between strands of fern as he was ostensibly lurking in the shadows. His eyes were big and green and shone like emeralds in the dark mineshaft of his face. Once again that evening I smiled to myself. Valerio, amongst other things, had given me diamonds and golden medallions and Cosimo was offering me emeralds and who knows what else. And I didn't have to wait for him to take his t-shirt off either. His whole body, including his awesome nipples, was laid out before me. All that is except for what might lay beneath that enticing, tantalising flap of material. Still, by way of compensation I got several juicy glimpses of his firm ass as he climbed trees and slithered over rocks. In fact I soon saw where Tolkein had got his prototype for Gollum.

The night wore on and my dick almost wore the front of my pants out in its appreciation of Cosimo's performance. Finally, towards the end of the play I heard him say the equivalent in Italian of "Good my lord, give me thy favour still. Be patient for the prize I'll bring thee to," and I knew those words were meant for me. As the actors took their bow and were greeted with flowers and applause, I saw that my 'savage and deformed slave' had transformed himself into a tall Greek Adonis. I clapped enthusiastically so there could be no doubt about my appreciation then I made my way back stage between a line of friends and admirers. He saw me coming and moved towards me.

"Thank God," he said, surprisingly in English, "I thought you might decide not to come."

"Thank God," I said in Italian, taking him gratefully by the hand, "I was afraid you might tell me you were shortsighted and had mistaken me for a friend of yours."

"No way," he said still in English, "My eyes sometimes betray me. My dick never."

"Mine neither," I laughed, "It was biting at the bit trying to get out of my trousers."

"As you no doubt saw," he said reverting to Italian. "I wasn't wearing trousers."

"I must admit it didn't exactly escape me." I replied in English.

"Will you wait in the bar while I shower?" he asked. I don't remember in which language.

"I'll try to be patient till the prize you bring me to." I said in Italian.

"Glad you got my message," he said in English.

If anybody had overheard us they would have thought we were either mad or very good friends. I hoped we'd turn out to be both. Our conversation might have been a little stilted, spoken as it was in two languages, but it was surprisingly straightforward seeing we had never met. I didn't have long to wait and he took me back to his place where we made love without another word and had another shower. It was nice to finally see his handsome face and of course what was under the "ice cream wrapper" although I must admit I felt it long before I saw it. He was so eager to get it inside me.

Actions speak louder than words and I must say his dick had a lot to say for itself. As we entered the bedroom his open hand was at once down the back of my trousers, hot and firm on my ass cheek, giving it a preparatory pat as if he always shook hands with the ass he was going to fuck. Meanwhile the other hand was bursting open my flies so that my dick shot forth to lick his hand and wipe its feet on it like a welcome door mat. He used the pre-cum to lubricate my thirsty asshole and then added his own. My ass lips opened like a flower opening its petals to much desired dew. His fingers penetrated me and I let them do the walking. It felt so good. Like a gentle invasion. He used slow, steady pressure which made me groan and growl like a dog waiting for its bone. And then slowly but surely then becomes now and fingers and bone are replaced by a boner. Bigger than my ass has ever consumed. The sensation I feel is beyond description. He is not just big. He is beyond all of that and all of that is now beyond the hungry, thirsty, insatiable ass lips that have devoured him and I am experiencing sensations that have never been put into words. Sensations that take you to the sky and that break the sound barrier. Sensations that sear your soul and leave you crying, whimpering for more. Sensations that dissolve your bones and marrow and boil your blood.

Suddenly I seem to be leaking. Hot tears are streaming down my face. Hot cum is steaming out of me. They are tears of joy, not of pain. Tears of gratitude for being fucked so good. I feel him explode inside me, filling me with his love juice. I scream for him to turn me over so I can drink from the fountain of his erupting cock and nourish myself on those nipples that till now I have only observed from afar but are now mine to feed from. I will suck and suckle myself to my heart's content and my ass will never want for more. Shakespeare's Wooden O has become a vital part of my life.