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Choose Your Poison: An Italian Threesome Giggle
By Giovanni Rossetti

Hoy, sono Giovanni Rossetti! I’m the peppy Italian bartender who keeps things vibin’ at the bustling La Piña cocktail bar in the heart of Milan. My regulars know they can expect a smile, a joke, and the best bloody mary in town when they slide up to my bar. But little do they know, those early evening hours are when the charade begins. This isn’t my only gig. Oh, no. The name’s Gio, but you can call me… Mr. Threesome.

I’ve always had a thing for petite little minxes, and lately, this skinny, sprightly teenita, Barbie, has been coming around my place after hours. The coochie-coo eyes she flings my way have got me seeing triple. She sure knows how to work a man, but it’s not just her twinkle toes that have me Archive.org’d. No, there are two other lads, her mejores amigos, who know how to complement a woman’s curves. Let me give you the inside scoop on our most recent Italian Job.

It was a chilly Thursday evening, and Barbie stopped by my bar after her shift at La Piña. Her two compadres, Castello and Marco, were already cuddled up at a back booth, sporting matching wolf grins. Barbie swaggered over, ample cleavage peekabooing from her cropped top, and plopped down beside me. She purred, “Gio, my lucky charms are here, and they want to play strip poker. You in?”

C மற்றும் How could I resist Generation Z’s take on a classic grease spot? We shook on it, and the games commenced. I played mad ’til the cards were thrust aside, and we all collided to christen the bar top. The camaraderie shifted gears, transformed into a horny hellraiser.

Barbie peeled off her top, freeing her pebbled nips, and plunged her hand into her tronchitas. I shivered at the sight of her, all skinny ravenette with a penchant for messy display. Marco and Castello pitched in, firing up the significativo flames. They wrestled post-haste for primo position between Barbie’s thighs, and finally, all systems were go.

The cowgirl rode Marco like it was a mechanical bull at the rodeo while Castello worked on coaxing an oh-la-la from Barbie’s plush mouth. I couldn’t stand it anymore. My bulge swelled, begging to be freed. I stepped in to join, or perhaps prolong, the fun.

Besides, when in Italy, indulge thrice. I wet my thumb and pointer finger, then ring-fingered Barbie’s brand-new Saturday night peashell. Marco pulled aside Barbie’s skimpy lace slides, exposing honeycomb. This prompted a round of mouths-on action, as Castello worshipped her toes and traffic-stopping toned legs while Marco feasted at the buffet between them.

Gentleman caller that I am, I conjured up my trusty dop kit, fished out a flavored condom, tore it open, and rolled it up Marco’s rigid rail. We switched positions, and I arranged for Barbie to straddle my hips western-style. The cowpoke in me had to see to it that she wallowed in pleasure, uncomfortable or not. Girls go crazy for a man in command.

With stars in my eyes, I enjoyed the ride as Barbie bounced on and off my dinky diaper, doling out a lewd retassium. Meanwhile, Marco molded his pride and joy to her mouth, tracing her lips with the banking ball.

Then came a twist I’ll never Forget: Barbie scurried over to step on his dick like it was the best game of Twister in town! With assistance from her backside colleagues, she made a smoochie sandwich of Marco’s All-You-Can-Eat Garden. The forbidden fruit was ours to pluck.

With Barbie’s Houdini hips putting on quite the show, I couldn’t help but whip out my Ichibun T Love Lotion for a lustrous clean-up. But before I could reach her, she nipped mine in the bud. She guiding it to her juicy targets with a devilish grin.

The three of us subsequently had a cum-bital epiphany. First, I painted her fun bags with my salty seal. Barbie looked up at me with a coquettish “grazie” as I aimed my paintball gun to full-monty her naked breasts.

Marco globbed Christie from above while Barbi Hornitably rode his inferno. All of us in the entire bar could hear his freakish holler, “Yeeeoww!”

Later, as we gathered ourselves together, Marco sheepishly shared, “Unfortunately, I polished off at the feet job festival!”

And with that, we were back for bar time. Round ’em up and move ’em out. Time to saddle up and play cowgirls again in the near future. For now, folks, until next time, I’m Mr. Threesome, storming out of the La Piña Signora…