The alarm betrayed me and woke me up at eight in the morning.

Why did I even set an alarm on vacation? I was in Rome, I was supposed to be enjoying life, not getting yanked awake at eight by a phone. Then again, more time awake meant more time to see the city.

I took a quick shower, went downstairs to the bakery for a croissant, and came back to the apartment. I made myself a coffee and went out to drink it on the terrace.

While having breakfast, I tried to plan my day. Of course, my vacation had only just begun, but still, I wanted to see as much as possible.

Somewhere between planning lunch, I was already browsing places for it, I thought it might be nice to have a bit of fun, too. Not the kind that involves going to a club or a bar, but the kind that involves meeting a handsome Italian. So I reactivated my dating app, the one I hadn't used in quite a while.

Within ten minutes, I already had plenty of options. Honestly, I didn't expect that. It felt like I had just opened an online ice cream display case.

After scrolling through all the profiles, I picked one man who was completely my type, beard, mustache, long hair, a serious, piercing look. I instantly knew this could get interesting.

I replied to him, and he immediately suggested meeting that same evening for a glass of wine. I agreed.

A couple of hours later, he texted again, saying he and his friends were planning to hit a club in the south of Rome later that night, and invited me to join them there instead. Some random club, with a man I hadn't even met yet, it made me a little uneasy. So I told him I'd rather stick to our original plan, wine first, then we'd see about the club. He didn't argue much.

With our evening date settled, I set off to explore the city.

The streets opened up around every corner into something else entirely, a fountain, a crumbling wall older than my whole country, the smell of espresso drifting out of some doorway I hadn't even noticed. None of it felt overwhelming, not the massive buildings, not the crowds of tourists, maybe because the weather made it so easy to keep walking, warm without being hot.

After a couple of hours of walking, I decided it was time for lunch and went to a small restaurant a friend of mine, who used to live in Rome, had recommended. The pasta came out glossy with olive oil and studded with capers, and I ate slower than I meant to, just to make it last.

There was still plenty of time before my evening date, so I kept sightseeing. But before heading out, I decided to stop by the apartment I was renting to freshen up and get ready.

Then I left for the bar in the south of Rome, where the man from the app, Davide, had suggested we meet.

When I arrived at the bar, I texted Davide to let him know I was there. He replied that he was on his way.

The place was buzzing with people, not surprising for such a lovely Friday evening.

I had no idea how I was supposed to recognize someone I'd never seen in person. But I did. He looked even better in real life than in his photos, as is so often the case with men. Completely my type. I could already feel the anticipation of how this sultry evening might unfold.

Davide recognized me too.

"Ciao bella," he said, kissing me on the cheek in greeting.

"Good evening," I replied, and right then I knew I definitely wanted to spend the evening with this man, and maybe the night too. But there was a faint feeling I couldn't shake off, the sense that maybe he didn't like me quite as much as I liked him. At least, not yet.

We walked into the bar. It was crowded and loud, but we managed to find a relatively quiet corner.

The conversation didn't really flow at first. We asked each other the usual things, where we were from, what we did, whether I liked Rome, and so on. Well, that's it, I thought. He's not into me.

And just as I thought that, he leaned closer and said:

"You know, I really want to touch you, but I don't know if that's acceptable. You see, lately there have been so many tourists in Rome, it's not that easy to feel like yourself in your own country. You never know how a woman might react to what you do, even when I'm sure she likes me."

What he said surprised me. On the outside, he looked so confident and intense, like the kind of man who always gets what he wants.

"You know," I began, "I came to Rome precisely to experience all that charm and allure Italian men are famous for, so famous that there are too many stereotypes about it. I miss that passion and spontaneity. So yes, you can touch me, because I really like you. But I'm glad you asked. Thank you."

My words seemed to relax Davide. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around my waist. Then he looked into my eyes and said, "You have such beautiful eyes. So alive and full of passion."

Of course they're full of passion, I thought. I've been sitting here for half an hour dying to fuck you.

But what I said aloud was:

"Thank you for the compliment," and I began to melt.

Without wasting time, Davide kissed me, at first gently, as if testing my reaction, then more firmly, once he realized I wanted it too.

It was a long kiss. At some point my jaw started to ache a little. And, more importantly, I was completely wet.

I was wearing a skirt and stockings. Davide placed his hand on my thigh and slowly slid it upward. A shiver ran straight up my spine and settled somewhere low in my stomach. I wanted him to take me right there, on that couch, in the middle of this crowded bar.

But then Davide stopped, pulled away slightly, and said in a low voice:

"I'm supposed to meet my friends at the club; I told you about that."

"Yes, I remember," I replied, though my voice was so faint I wasn't sure he even heard me.

"So, shall we go?"

"...Sure," I said, though some part of me would rather have stayed right there on that couch.

I stood up, and immediately fell back onto the couch. My head spun, everything below my waist still humming.

"Are you okay?" Davide asked.

"Yes, yes. Just a bit lightheaded from standing up too fast," I said, though what I was really thinking was how this man could stay so calm and composed while I was barely holding it together.

Luckily, the nightclub was just around the corner, so we didn't have to walk far.

Inside, electronic Italian music was playing, surprisingly good, actually. One of Davide's friends came up right away to greet him. Davide introduced me, and we headed to the other side of the room where the rest of his friends were waiting.

Davide introduced me to the rest of his friends. They all looked at me with open curiosity, and I studied them just as closely. In the center of Rome, it was almost impossible to meet real locals, it was all tourists. But here, everyone was Roman, guys and girls alike. It was exactly the vibe I'd been looking for.

Davide turned back to me and asked what I wanted to drink. I said I'd like a glass of red wine. He ran his hand down my back and went to get the drinks, leaving me alone with his friends. For a moment I felt slightly uncomfortable, but once we started chatting, the tension eased.

Davide returned with our drinks, and for a while we just talked about nothing in particular. Then he leaned toward me and said he wanted to dance.

That, at least, I didn't have to think twice about, not with everything still simmering in me since the bar. And, of course, at some point Davide came closer to me, took me by the waist, and we started dancing together. It thrilled me: I could feel his scent, his breath against my skin. The nearness of his body left no doubt that he wanted me too.

We started kissing, and the heat between us climbed again, faster this time. Davide suggested we take a break and catch our breath.

We settled comfortably on a small sofa in the corner of the dance floor, away from his friends.

As soon as I sat down on the sofa, this man pounced on me as if he hadn't had a woman in years. And I can't say I didn't like it.

Davide caressed my neck and gently bit it. A sharp, warm current ran down through me, straight to my knees.

"I want you right here, right now," he said, breathing heavily.

"I don't think this is a very appropriate place," I replied, trying to catch my breath. "After all, this isn't a sex party; it's just a regular nightclub."

Davide suddenly stopped caressing me, looked at me intently, and said,

"There's a private room here." With that, he slipped his hand under my skirt between my legs. My body trembled in anticipation.

"Why a private room?" I moaned. "We can go to your place and have sex in a comfortable environment where no one will disturb us."

"I want you here and now," he repeated, and it sounded like an order.

Well, I'm on vacation, I thought. And I want him here and now too, and I'm afraid I won't be able to wait until we get to a comfortable bed. I wanted this man to take me without any unnecessary distractions.

"Okay," my voice began to weaken, and I decided to give in. "Where is this private room?"

"Good girl," Davide rasped, and looked at me with lust in his eyes. "The room is over there." And he pointed in the direction of the stage where half-naked girls were dancing.

It took some time to get to that room, because at some point, Davide pressed me against the wall with his whole body and kissed me hard. His hands wandered over my body. Through my clothes, he caressed my breasts, carefully slipping his fingers under my panties so that no one would notice what he was doing.

"Damn, you're so wet," he said and licked his fingers. I thought I was about to come when he did that.

My moans grew louder and louder. It was good that the music in the nightclub was always very loud, so no one paid any attention to us.

Then Davide told me to turn around. I obeyed. He bit into the back of my neck, and a sharp gasp broke out of me before I could stop it.

I could feel how hard he was against me, pressing into my lower back, ready to take me at any moment.

With some effort, I turned around and whispered in his ear:

"Please, let's go to that private room already. I don't want to get into trouble in a foreign country for inappropriate behavior in public."

"Like I said, good girl," Davide said with a sly smile, giving my butt a quick squeeze. "Let's see just how good you'll be in that room."

He took my hand, and we finally headed toward the mysterious private room.

To be honest, I was worried it might be dirty, after all, it was called a private room for a reason. It didn't seem like the kind of place where people came to discuss books.

But to my surprise, it was spotless. There was even a small plate on the table with condoms neatly arranged on it.

While I was taking it all in, Davide locked the door and came up behind me. His movements were different now, slower, more deliberate. He gently ran his tongue along my neck and began to undress me piece by piece.

When I tried to take something off myself, he stopped me with a look that said I shouldn't.

Moments later, I was standing completely naked before him, wearing nothing but my stockings.

Davide circled me slowly, as if I weren't a person but a sculpture he was studying with focused attention.

Then he stepped closer, placed his hands on my ass, and drew me against him. His tongue pressed insistently into my mouth, demanding more.

When his hand slid up to my neck, a moan escaped me, low and uncontrollable, as pleasure rippled through my body.

Then he pushed me gently away, tangled his fingers in my hair, unzipped his pants with one hand, and guided me down onto my knees before him.

In that moment, I finally saw what I had been aching to feel inside me for so long.

I slowly took his cock into my mouth. It was hot and throbbing. Davide moaned. At first I moved slowly, then began to pick up the pace. I wrapped my tongue around the head of his cock, trying to swallow it as deep as possible. Davide's hoarse moans excited me even more.

He grabbed my hair again, lifted me up, and pulled me toward him.

Quickly getting rid of his clothes, he picked me up and carried me to the huge sofa in the room.

Leaning his whole body on me, Davide first just covered my face with kisses. Moving lower, he slowly ran his tongue around my nipples. His lips were soft and hot. His mouth closed around one nipple, and his tongue circled it slowly, unhurried, like he had all night.

At that moment, he slid his fingers into my pussy, and my hips lifted off the sofa on their own, chasing his hand. He pulled them out and made me lick them clean.

"You're not such a good girl in bed," he whispered in my ear, "but I like that. I like that you're so naughty."

He lifted himself up on his hands, looked intently into my eyes, and said:

"I like the contrast. When I first saw you, I thought it would be just ordinary sex. But you're only quiet on the outside." And at that moment, I felt him enter me.

He entered me with a sharp thrust, and I cried out with pleasure. I tried to hold back, afraid that someone might hear us, although who could hear us here. Davide cupped my face in his hand and said:

"I don't want you to hold back. Even if someone can hear us, I don't care."

And I let go completely.

Davide, who was still on top of me, folded my legs back until my knees nearly touched the sofa on either side of my head, my hips tilted up to meet him. In this position, I could feel every stroke of his cock catch against my G-spot, a slow drag that made my whole body clench around him. The sensations were so intense that my eyes rolled back and for a second I thought I was going to squirt, but it didn't happen. My ears rang, and for a moment the whole world went quiet inside my head. When I came to my senses, I realized that I was ready to come again.

Davide's movements became a little rougher and more abrupt, and another orgasm tore through me before I could brace for it. I screamed, my fists pounding against the sofa, ready to beg for mercy. But Davide just looked at me and smiled a devilish smile.

Then he lifted me up, told me to turn around, and get on all fours.

My legs were still shaking from the orgasms I'd just had, so it was a little hard to hold that position at first.

Davide spread my legs wider and entered me again. That deep, full sensation spread through me once more, thick and warm.

This time his movements were painfully slow, while I craved roughness and urgency.

"Please, I want you to fuck me hard," I moaned.

"I want to make the pleasure last," he said, a drop of sweat falling onto my back. "Besides, I like it when you beg."

His hand closed around my throat as he pulled me in for a desperate kiss. Then he pushed me down, my face against the sofa, and entered me again, deeper, rougher.

"Yes... please... don't stop," I cried, barely aware of my own voice.

He drove into me hard, no more holding back, his hips slamming against mine with every thrust.

His movements quickened, and then another orgasm burst through me, bright and sudden, like a current thrown straight through my spine.

I was sure my screams could be heard all the way out on the dance floor.

Davide gasped above me, and I felt him reach his release. Exhausted, he collapsed onto me. I lay sprawled across the sofa, our bodies still tangled as we caught our breath.

After we got dressed, we returned to his friends and spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking, as if nothing had happened.

When I was about to leave, Davide asked if I'd like to see him again, and of course, I said yes.

He promised to show me a side of Rome tourists never get to see.

And, well, that offer was far too tempting to refuse.