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By Fatherodelli (
"When I commiserated with my girl cousins years later
as adults, we all agreed that Uncle Luigi could have
his tongue down your throat and two fingers up your
vagina quicker than you could say the 'Hail Mary'."
My earliest recollection of family reunions was when I
was about four-years-old. Like most Italian families,
we have many, many relatives and we are very close-
knit. It seems to me that true Italian families are
almost always looking for an excuse to have a huge
family reunion to drink wine, eat pasta and talk
loudly with great emotion. This is all done under the
pretext of celebrating a family birthday, graduation
or other event.

I was the only daughter in my family of six children.
It seemed to me that men dominated my entire Italian
family circle. Therefore, since I was the only girl,
I was always the center of attention. Part of it
could also have been that I was what my Uncle Luigi
called "the most beautiful Italian girl in the world."
I've never really thought of myself in that way. I
think my olive skin, long black hair, very dark brown
eyes and prominent nose make me fairly typical of
Italian looks.

Uncle Luigi became an instrumental part of my growing
up very early in my life. My father has eight
brothers and Uncle Luigi was the oldest and also the
only bachelor. He always took a fancy to me. I knew
the minute I showed up at a family reunion that I
might as well seek him out because he would find me
somewhere if I didn't. Hopping up on Uncle Luigi's
knee was just something I did out of habit and also
because I knew my own father expected it. My Father's
expectation where Uncle Luigi was concerned was
ingrained in me for as long as I can remember. father
made it very clear that I was supposed to be extra
nice to Uncle Luigi. It was something about some
financial failures my father had previously and the
fact that his brother Luigi had bailed him out of
those enormous difficulties. I think my father always
felt that I was one of the few assets he could offer
Uncle Luigi and that if my extra niceties to Uncle
Luigi would help to even things out for them, it was
good for my Father.

So, the tacit message was, "never say no to Uncle

Of course, I never knew for sure if there were
absolutely NO boundaries with Uncle Luigi but "never
say no" was the message I got from my father from a
very, very innocent age. Now you can see why I always
had this special responsibility to Uncle Luigi. I'll
admit I also had a very special fondness for him much
like any little girl would have if one person heaped
so much attention upon her.

Therefore, I knew the first thing I was to do when we
arrived was to hop on my Uncle's lap. Of course, he
was always delighted and showered me with kisses and
hugs! He was my idea of a very handsome man. He,
too, had typical Italian looks, with broad shoulders,
combed-back black hair and a great smell of unique
after-shave. I always knew not to expect attention
all the time I sat on his lap. Uncle Luigi was also a
businessman and a successful one at that. He was not
afraid to dominate the conversation and tell everyone
exactly what he thought on a variety of subjects. He
made his points very clear in a most animated way,
gesturing wildly with his arms and talking loudly.
What that meant for me, the little girl on his lap,
was to realize that he would give me overzealous
attention for about ten seconds every couple of
minutes. Then I would have to hang onto his neck for
the next minute or so while he went through his
communication antics.

These family reunions were usually quite formal, so I
wore a pretty dress. As I sat on my Uncle's lap, he
would put a hand under my dress and stroke my knees
and up my thighs, all the while being totally involved
in a business conversation. When my ten seconds of
absolute attention time came, he would kiss my ears,
my neck, and my lips and literally fondle my entire
body. He would also whisper in my ear things every
little girl and young woman loves to hear like
"Giovanna, you are the most beautiful woman in all the
world; bellissomo, bellissomo!" From time to time, I
would almost slip off his lap as he moved around
erratically, but he would grab me around the stomach
or chest and pull me back onto his lap rather roughly,
then stroke my hair in the most gentle way.

This scenario repeated itself from about age four to
my middle teen years, probably about twice a month. I
knew my responsibility to my father and that was to
share special times with Uncle Luigi. I liked the way
my father would look at me as things went well on
Uncle Luigi's lap. I would involuntary glance at my
Father and he would smile slightly at me, indicating
his approval of my behavior. I also came to realize
that at some point my father would nod slightly to me
and that meant that I could slip away at the next
convenient time to go play with my cousins.

Inherently, every girl knows when a touch by someone
doesn't seem quite right. I knew that, too, but
always buried it down deep in my mind because I always
felt that my father expected, encouraged and approved
of anything Uncle Luigi did. For example, as Uncle
Luigi would gyrate and gesture wildly with one hand,
expressing himself vociferously to the men assembled,
he would have his other hand under my dress with his
thumb rubbing up and down my pussy lips. Sometimes
his thumb would be on top of my panties, but more
often it would be under my panties. Frankly, I'm not
sure exactly what went on under my panties in those
days. It just seemed like a flurry of activity. When
I was smaller, it was the soft massage of my pussy
with his thumb. But in later years, it was a
combination of Uncle Luigi's fingers sliding in and
out of my vagina while he almost simultaneously
massaged circles on my little clit. My father surely
knew what was going on [and the rest of the relatives,
too] but I NEVER got so much as a negative look from
anyone. Looking back, I think Uncle Luigi and his
behavior was never talked about by the family but
tolerated because of his financial standing. The
respect he had gained from everyone because of his
success in life overpowered any issues of morality.

That's the way I came to remember Uncle Luigi. He
demonstrated so many kinds of behavior to a female in
rapid-fire order. If he thought my legs weren't
spread enough, he firmly but gently opened them up.
If he couldn't feel my tits because there were too
many layers of clothes, he calmly but assertively
unbuttoned the offending vest or sweater.

Every little kid is used to his older relatives
noticing and commenting on his physical development.
I think every little kid is probably appreciative of
that attention. Well, Uncle Luigi took it upon
himself to comment more than on just how tall I was
getting. He seemed to pay particular attention to
sexual development.

To illustrate that point, I remember one day when I
was 11 years old. It was unusually warm and I wore my
favorite yellow sundress to a family event. It had
narrow straps over the shoulders. I swear he noticed
things even I had hardly noticed about myself.
Without saying anything, he tugged slightly on the
soft, wispy black hairs curling up in front of my
armpits. I never said anything; I just blushed and
let him continue with his informal examination of my

Actually, I remember liking his physical attention
more and more as I approached puberty. On another day
when I was about 12 years old, he had his hand under
my dress, softly but firmly sliding a finger or two in
and out of my pussy in that same familiar routine.
Hardly breaking stride in his loud business
conversation with the rest of the men, he abruptly
(but very softly) whispered into my ear, "you're
getting some little hairs on that sweet pussy aren't
you baby?" At first, I was a little embarrassed, but
then I was more than a little bit proud that he had
noticed my advancing maturity. After all, only Uncle
Luigi and I had such intimate knowledge of my body at
that early age. In the next couple of months, he
particularly paid attention to my budding little tits,
casually running his hand across them and sometimes
overtly squeezing my nipples. Again, in the middle of
an animated conversation with his brothers, he
expressed his approval in the same way as before,
whispering to me, "your little tits are starting to
come out too, aren't they Giovanna?"

When I had just turned 13 years old, we had a cookout
pool side at Uncle Luigi's home. My Father, Uncle
Luigi and several of other men were bar-b-queuing
steaks. Preparing the meat seemed to take on special
significance to our Italian families. There were
probably 20 or more of us cousins enjoying the pool as
the dinner was being prepared. I had to pee so I
grabbed a towel, discreetly told my father where I was
going and headed into Uncle Luigi's house and up the
stairs to the bathroom. Apparently, Uncle Luigi had
his sexual antennae working. As I pulled down the
bottoms of my new little black and white two-piece and
sat down on the toilet, Uncle Luigi rapped lightly on
the door. "Giovanna sweetie, let your favorite uncle
in, OK?"

Under normal circumstances, I would never let a man
into the bathroom, but since it was Uncle Luigi, I
knew what was expected of me. I finished peeing,
pulled up my bottoms, wrapped myself in the beach
towel and let him in.

"Oh, my precious little lamb, my lovely Giovanna," he
began as he pulled me close to his chest in a more
than uncle-like hug. I immediately snapped into that
zone that he had put me under for many years and I
knew I was putty in his hands. He unwrapped the towel
and began kissing my shoulders and neck. "What a
pretty little swimsuit honey," he cooed as he surveyed
my prepubescent body from my tits to my legs. "Let's
have a good look at those girlie tits of yours" and he
slid the elastic straps off my shoulders. With
nowhere enough boob to hold anything up, my top slid
hopelessly to my waist and exposed two half-lemon
sized swellings on my chest each topped with a salmon-
colored nipple that were my new prized development.
"Well, look at those! The sexiest little woman this
side of Sicily!" The compliments continued, but I was
worried about what people at the swimming pool might
be thinking as the minutes ticked by. He kissed and
sucked those firm little mounds. I felt myself
relaxing more and more.

Then, he hooked his thumbs inside my swimsuit bottoms
and in one smooth motion, effortlessly slid them down
over my only slightly rounded hips. He had reached
his prize and now he was about to have his way with
me. Cupping his hands under my butt, he easily lifted
me into a sitting position on the lavatory. He opened
my legs and continued cooing complimentary comments
into my ears about the lovely little pussy that was
spread open before him. He marveled at the thick
covering of black pubic hair I had grown recently. He
teasingly tugged at it from just below my navel to the
especially long, kinky ones surrounding my vagina.
I've always thought that we Italian girls grow the
thickest, blackest pubic hair of anyone! He
unbuttoned his shirt and I buried my face in his hairy
chest, intoxicating myself on that smell I had learned
to love so much in all of our little escapades prior
to this day. He dropped his pants and his hard cock
stood at attention, eagerly awaiting its appointed

"Don't worry, my sweetest angel, don't worry." He
kept saying that over and over, whispering into my
ear. I really wasn't worried; I think I instinctively
knew the time had come for my total pleasing of my
Father's brother.

He reached into a drawer, picked up a tube of
lubrication and liberally applied it to his fingers.
After warming it between his hands, he used it to coat
the inside lips of my pink pussy opening, extending a
finger deeper and deeper inside of me, preparing my
virginal vagina for his significantly bigger cock by
making my love hole as slippery as possible. Putting
the last of the lubrication on his cock, he grasped my
ass cheeks in his hands, spread them apart and pulled
my hot swollen pussy to the edge of the counter. Then
he began to ease his tool into my 13-year-old body,
courteously sliding in only a little more cock with
each thrust. I knew I was powerless to control
anything with him. I had learned that lesson many,
many years before. So, I leaned back, put the back of
my head against the mirror on the wall and closed my

Little by little he snaked his rod into me. I hoped
no one could hear his grunting. I stifled my little
screams, knowing that Uncle Luigi would surely do no
lasting damage to my most private area. Within a few
minutes, he yelled a mighty "AAAHHHHHHHH!" It was
over! I guess it would have been too much to expect
for Uncle Luigi to be anything less than animated and
loud, even while having sex with his little niece.

"Oh my Giovanna darling, Uncle Luigi loves you so
much! What a great little pussy! What a great little
lover! We need to do a lot more of this! Bellissomo!
Bellissomo!" He continued to heap praises on me, just
like he had done since I was very small. He held me
and kissed me so softly, so romantically. Eventually,
he picked up my swimming towel from the floor and
wiped the lubricant and cum off me. Then he helped me
back into my swimming suit. I quickly grabbed a new
towel and headed back to the pool.

The cool water felt soothing to my newly deflowered
pussy. I had a little difficulty splashing and having
fun with the rest of the kids, so I retreated to a
chaise lounge. I was trying very hard to act as
naturally as possible. My father slowly walked my way
and took my hand. "Are you OK, Giovanna?" he asked
with a knowing look on his face. I nodded and forced
a smile. "You are so good to Uncle Luigi, thanks

I kept my knees together, but I thought I caught my
Father trying to sneak a peak at my pussy from time to
time, probably because he was worried if I was hurt or
damaged. He knew what had gone on in the bathroom! I
know he knew! And he was quietly thanking me for my
role in pleasing his brother Luigi.

I never talked with my girl cousins about my
relationship with Uncle Luigi when we were growing up.
But in later life, we have shared intimate details and
the truth is that they all felt as special as I felt
to Uncle Luigi. Every cousin I've talked with --
Mimi, Lia, Andria, Giacinta, Chiara, Viviana, Carin,
Marta and Alisa -- all of them tell similar stories
about growing up at family get-togethers with Uncle
Luigi. I can best sum it up with Chiara's comment,
"Uncle Luigi could have his tongue down your throat
and two fingers up your vagina quicker than you could
say the 'Hail Mary'."

I still think I was the most special.

Now, 15 years has passed and nothing has really
changed. The extended family still has huge family
events and Uncle Luigi is still the center of
attention to seemingly everyone. Uncle Luigi is a
little older and grayer but still is ruggedly handsome
and smells the same manly way. He also has a parade
of young girls getting on and off his lap. One of
them is my own daughter, Camilla. She has really
taken to him and I understand it fully. She looks a
lot like me, except she is a bit taller for her age
and has wavy, brown hair. Uncle Luigi sometimes winks
and calls her "his little Giovanna."

I steal a glance when she is sitting on his lap. I
see his hand under her dress. She's only nine-years-
old but I can tell her mind is going through all of
the same conflicts I went through at her age. She
knows some of what he's doing isn't right, yet she
knows the respect she is supposed to yield to him.
She also knows that he makes her feel pretty and warm
inside. What she can't know at her early age is that
the sexual stimulation he provides is probably better
than anyone else she will ever experience. For now
she only knows it feels very, very good between her
little legs. I notice the glazed look of sexual
titillation in her eyes. I could stop this, but I
don't. I know that many cultures of the world would
see Uncle Luigi's actions as immoral; some would not.
But, since I've experienced all of him through all of
my growing up years, I really have no regrets. I
don't consider his actions with me to be a negative
part of my life. Every girl is going to go through
some conflicts in right or wrong at some time in her
growing up years and I'm thankful I had someone as
good and gentle as Uncle Luigi to be a part of that

Uncle Luigi raised the bar of expectations for me on
how a prospective husband should perform sexually.
For example, I expect a man to be very gentle in
foreplay, then a little rough and possessive, then
very gentle at the end again. His performance with
his mouth was especially that way. Every time he made
love to me, by the time we were finished, my pussy and
my boobs tingled and almost hurt because of his
forceful sucking and biting. When I was barely
wearing a training bra, I remember I even thought
Uncle Luigi was causing my tits to grow because they
would swell after his persistent sucking. He could
inhale all of my developing tits into his mouth and
suck and nibble them so hard that it almost hurt.

Without my Uncle Luigi, I would have never known how
much love, attention and genuine affection a man could
provide. I searched and searched before marrying my
husband. Not surprisingly, I'm proud to say he is
much like Uncle Luigi.

By the time I was 16, I fully knew about my three
orifices and how to use them for my own peak
satisfaction and also for my partner. When I began to
play sexually with boys my own age, I always knew what
I wanted and I never had to blunder along like so many
teenage girls who end up with an STD or a pregnancy.
Uncle Luigi had taught me well.

In a short time, I know Camilla will lose her
virginity to Uncle Luigi, just like I did and all the
rest of my girl cousins, too. All things considered,
I'm happy for Camilla.

I would absolutely LOVE to hear any comments you may
have. Please write me at


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