(Taken from a part of a story 
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Description: (Taken from a part of a story that could become a novel) ...They had already passed Genoa when they stopped at a service station. Just enough time for a quick coffee and a croissant, along with the inevitable stop at Francesca's restroom, like any self-respecting woman does when traveling by car, and then they were off again. Just before opening his door, Angelo did something inexplicable: a drop of jam from the croissant he'd just eaten was on his fingertip. Instead of wiping his finger with a tissue, he ran it over the passenger-side window of the car. At Francesca's questioning look, he replied with a laconic, but not at all reassuring, "I've got a little idea." They continued their journey until, having reached Tuscany, he stopped again at a service station. As soon as he turned off the engine, he invited Francesca to use the restroom. “I don't need to.” “Even better, then. You can do it here.” “What?” “Take off your tights and panties.” She was perplexed for a moment and then did as requested, taking advantage of the fact that there were no other cars parked nearby. As soon as he finished, he started the car again and stopped shortly after at the gas pumps. After having her put on her earphones, he dialed her number as he got out of the car. “While I order the gas, you put your feet up on the dashboard like you do when you want to relax. "Keep your thighs parted and describe the scene to me in a whisper as I walk away from the car." A thousand thoughts assailed her. It was easy for anyone near the car to see her thighs, or even her pussy. She suddenly put on a pair of sunglasses and opened a magazine she had in her purse. This way, if anyone passed by, they would think she, absorbed in reading, hadn't considered that with her feet up on the dashboard, a generous portion of her thighs would be exposed to their gaze. Through her headphones, she listened to what Angelo was saying to the gas station attendant. "Fill up, please," and after a pause: "Would you mind cleaning the front window for me? I don't know what insect hit me, but there's an annoying stain right in front of my wife's face." In the meantime, I'll take this opportunity to get a coffee at the bar." After the noise of the fuel pump dispensing fuel, Francesca heard the creak of the fuel tank door being closed, and immediately afterward, a man appeared in her line of sight, holding the necessary supplies to wash the windshield. She pretended to read the magazine, taking advantage of the fact that her eyes were hidden by the dark lenses of her glasses. Luigi's voice reached her through the earphones: "I'm thirty meters in front of you. Do you think the diligent gas station attendant can see anything?" "Part of the outer thighs, definitely," she murmured, trying to move her lips as little as possible. "Spread your legs." "But... if I do that... he can..." She didn't finish her sentence before Luigi urged her: "Exactly. I saw you pretending to be absorbed in reading. Open your legs and show yourself." "I'm embarrassed." "I imagine so. That's why it will be even more beautiful. Trust me.” Unconvinced and gripped by deep shame, Francesca opened her thighs. The gas station attendant, who had already been peeking at her legs, following that movement, moved his face closer to the glass, pretending to want to completely remove the now dried jam stain. In Francesca's throat and chest, a kind of whirlwind. She had never shown her private life to strangers, obviously excluding those who had been in bed with her or, obviously, doctors and gynecologists. Being there, half-lying in the car with her legs raised, opened and without underwear, destabilized her. At least, that's how it seemed to her at first because, almost without knowing why, she murmured to her more distant accomplice. “See?” “I see you're working hard on the stain. Let's hope you don't put a hole in the glass from rubbing so much. Are you watching?” “Yes.” After a pause, she surprised herself by hearing his voice and seeing his knees: “I'm spreading my thighs. Now my pussy is exposed and you can see it effortlessly.” “What do you feel?” “Shame.... Shame and upset.” “Describe it better.” “It seems to be moving.” “My pussy?” “Yes. When I start to get excited, I feel it moving inside.” “Is the gas station attendant still watching?” “He's staring at my pussy, as if there were no tomorrow,” she replied, all in all pleased. After a while, she herself decided to end the exhibition. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she was disturbed by what was happening to her: her vulva was starting to get intensely wet. Regaining her composure, she noticed with relief that the gas station attendant also abandoned his work. They set off again shortly thereafter, chatting about other things as if nothing had happened a moment earlier. Only after rounding Livorno and now off the highway did Francesca return to the subject. “Satisfied?” “With what?” “That I satisfied you by letting a stranger stare at my private parts.” “Not a bad appetizer”...
(Taken from a part of a story that could become a novel) ...They had already passed Genoa when they stopped at a service station. Just enough time for a quick coffee and a croissant, along with the inevitable stop at Francesca's restroom, like any self-respecting woman does when traveling by car, and then they were off again. Just before opening his door, Angelo did something inexplicable: a drop of jam from the croissant he'd just eaten was on his fingertip. Instead of wiping his finger with a tissue, he ran it over the passenger-side window of the car. At Francesca's questioning look, he replied with a laconic, but not at all reassuring, "I've got a little idea." They continued their journey until, having reached Tuscany, he stopped again at a service station. As soon as he turned off the engine, he invited Francesca to use the restroom. “I don't need to.” “Even better, then. You can do it here.” “What?” “Take off your tights and panties.” She was perplexed for a moment and then did as requested, taking advantage of the fact that there were no other cars parked nearby. As soon as he finished, he started the car again and stopped shortly after at the gas pumps. After having her put on her earphones, he dialed her number as he got out of the car. “While I order the gas, you put your feet up on the dashboard like you do when you want to relax. "Keep your thighs parted and describe the scene to me in a whisper as I walk away from the car." A thousand thoughts assailed her. It was easy for anyone near the car to see her thighs, or even her pussy. She suddenly put on a pair of sunglasses and opened a magazine she had in her purse. This way, if anyone passed by, they would think she, absorbed in reading, hadn't considered that with her feet up on the dashboard, a generous portion of her thighs would be exposed to their gaze. Through her headphones, she listened to what Angelo was saying to the gas station attendant. "Fill up, please," and after a pause: "Would you mind cleaning the front window for me? I don't know what insect hit me, but there's an annoying stain right in front of my wife's face." In the meantime, I'll take this opportunity to get a coffee at the bar." After the noise of the fuel pump dispensing fuel, Francesca heard the creak of the fuel tank door being closed, and immediately afterward, a man appeared in her line of sight, holding the necessary supplies to wash the windshield. She pretended to read the magazine, taking advantage of the fact that her eyes were hidden by the dark lenses of her glasses. Luigi's voice reached her through the earphones: "I'm thirty meters in front of you. Do you think the diligent gas station attendant can see anything?" "Part of the outer thighs, definitely," she murmured, trying to move her lips as little as possible. "Spread your legs." "But... if I do that... he can..." She didn't finish her sentence before Luigi urged her: "Exactly. I saw you pretending to be absorbed in reading. Open your legs and show yourself." "I'm embarrassed." "I imagine so. That's why it will be even more beautiful. Trust me.” Unconvinced and gripped by deep shame, Francesca opened her thighs. The gas station attendant, who had already been peeking at her legs, following that movement, moved his face closer to the glass, pretending to want to completely remove the now dried jam stain. In Francesca's throat and chest, a kind of whirlwind. She had never shown her private life to strangers, obviously excluding those who had been in bed with her or, obviously, doctors and gynecologists. Being there, half-lying in the car with her legs raised, opened and without underwear, destabilized her. At least, that's how it seemed to her at first because, almost without knowing why, she murmured to her more distant accomplice. “See?” “I see you're working hard on the stain. Let's hope you don't put a hole in the glass from rubbing so much. Are you watching?” “Yes.” After a pause, she surprised herself by hearing his voice and seeing his knees: “I'm spreading my thighs. Now my pussy is exposed and you can see it effortlessly.” “What do you feel?” “Shame.... Shame and upset.” “Describe it better.” “It seems to be moving.” “My pussy?” “Yes. When I start to get excited, I feel it moving inside.” “Is the gas station attendant still watching?” “He's staring at my pussy, as if there were no tomorrow,” she replied, all in all pleased. After a while, she herself decided to end the exhibition. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she was disturbed by what was happening to her: her vulva was starting to get intensely wet. Regaining her composure, she noticed with relief that the gas station attendant also abandoned his work. They set off again shortly thereafter, chatting about other things as if nothing had happened a moment earlier. Only after rounding Livorno and now off the highway did Francesca return to the subject. “Satisfied?” “With what?” “That I satisfied you by letting a stranger stare at my private parts.” “Not a bad appetizer”...

Date: 31-08-2026 14:59:58
francescaeme

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Molto eccitante il racconto (e anche la vista chiaramente), mi sembrava di essere il benzinaio ed averla così davanti ai miei occi! avatar 🤭😉


francesco963
14-09-2026 18:56:19
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ciao .... complimenti ... io sono Daniele Toscano ti lascio il mio contatto di T.e.l.e.g.r.m. info2567 aspetto un cenno smackkkk


dantexxx
14-09-2026 14:04:33
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Mi è venuto duro


jackbordello
03-09-2026 07:47:11
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Tanta Roba Genuina


MIK1
02-09-2026 19:20:19
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Un bellissimo racconto anche se Marina appare dal nulla... avatar 😄😄😄 in effetti la lei dei racconti articolati dovrebbe essere Marina....vabbeh dai....ho la scusante della vecchiaia...😉


mau74mi
01-09-2026 14:26:09
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Vorrei essere stato il benzinaio...


Attila
01-09-2026 07:58:15
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bel racconto, una domanda, il vetro l'ha pulito bene? avatar 😄😄😄😄


gbquadri
31-08-2026 17:21:28
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Ciao, un osservatore elegante ma porco vi puo interessare? Se si sc4ivetemi su t l g r Briccone61


Intrigoserio
31-08-2026 16:52:52
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Molto eccitante come situazione…


griso
31-08-2026 15:50:11
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Bel racconto complimenti avatar Grazie


escanio73
31-08-2026 15:22:05
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I tuoi racconti Angelo sono sempre molto eccitanti. Sei davvero unico avatar Più unico che raro 😂😂😂😂 Comunque, grazie.


prtasgr
31-08-2026 15:14:28