“Ciao. This is Amara at Papa Pizza Pies. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to order a large sausage for delivery.”

“Oh yeah, I hear ya. I love a large sausage.”

Greg chuckled, “I beg your pardon?”

“I love the long, cylindrical shape of a large sausage – so juicy – firm, yet flexible.”

“Yeah, uh, me too. That’s an odd thing to say. Are you sure I got the right place?”

Amara said frantically, “Don’t hang up! You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.”

“That good, huh?”

“Si. Papa was the best pizzaiolo this town ever knew.”

“Pizzaiolo?”

“That’s Italian for pizza chef.”

“Hmm, I didn't know that. I don't know any Italian.”

Amara prompted, “I'll bet you know some Italian.”

“Well, you’re certainly the friendliest pizzaiolo I’ve ever spoken too. Do you need my name and address?”

Amara said eagerly, “Oh god, do I! Please tell me!”

“I’m Greg and my address is 555 Petersburg Lane.”

“Peters Big?” She took a deep breath. “You have a large sausage. Is there anything else your heart desires?”

“I think a large sausage is plenty.”

“It’s a great start,” she tempted, “but I have so many scrumptious flavors to offer.”

Something about Amara seemed familiar. Greg rubbed his eyes to get salacious fantasies out of his mind and concluded she was nothing more than a stranger taunting him. He brushed back his wavy blonde hair. “Do you got it?”

“Got what?”

“My order, Do you got it?”

“Oh, I got it. I got everything you could ever imagine.”

He didn’t understand what she was going on about. “How about the address? Can you repeat the address I gave you?”

Amara recited breathlessly, “555 Peters Big…”

Greg interrupted, “Never mind. How soon can you get here?”

“I’ll be there right away. Ci vediamo presto!”

Greg stared at his phone and muttered, “What the hell just happened?”

§

There was a persistent knock at Greg’s apartment door. Through the peephole he saw a woman – 5’6” with jet black, breast-length hair – swaying impatiently with her arms behind her back. A red satin V-neck flaunted her voluptuous cleavage and clenched her olive-toned skin before stopping above her cute navel. A black skirt followed the broad curves of her thighs.

He flung the door open and Amara’s electrifying stare shot through him. She called out, “Buonasera, signore!”

“That was fast. Where is the…”

“I love you!” She slammed against him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I was so enraptured when you called. I would recognize that sexy voice anywhere.”

Greg gently pushed her away. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I was expecting…”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

“I don’t know you.”

Amara’s ruby eyes sparkled with tears, revealing a profound longing as she wept, “How could you say that? Don’t you remember moonlight walks – kissing by the Wisteria tree in front of my house?”

Had he gone crazy? No one in their right mind would forget someone as beautiful as Amara. She continued, “Your fingers through my hair – your warm breath on my shoulders…”

Greg gazed at her, “Oh my God, Amara from college? But you moved away.”

“I came back when Papa died to help Mama run the pizzeria.”

Greg marveled at his first love. “I dreamed about you constantly over the years – the times we splashed in the fountain in front of the Student Union – drove my car to dark roads at the edge of town – kissed until the sun came up…”

“Si, signore.” Amara stepped closer, licking her lips.

Greg continued, “Touching ­– my hands exploring beneath your clothes…”

Amara unbuttoned Greg’s shirt and slipped it past his shoulders. She embraced him and twirled her tongue over his nipples. His voice trembled, “Tasting your breasts – windows steaming over …”

She pressed her lips to his and their tongues unlocked many years of neglected desires. Removing his pants as they held each other, Greg and Amara stumbled to the couch. She fell onto the cushions – he got on his knees and removed the frilly panties beneath her skirt. She kicked off her high heels and declared, “I missed you so much.”

His tongue slithered up her thighs and softly swirled against her clitoris. He placed his hands beneath her bottom and raised her luscious body to his mouth. Her stomach stiffened. Jolting, shivering – Amara clawed his hair – her thighs squeezed his cheeks – his tongue pressed inward and tasted the sweet nectar of her orgasm.

Amara screamed, “Oh, grazie, signore!”

Greg placed his hand on her cheek and she raised her eyes to him. He said, “I want you to feel me inside you – feel how much I desire you.”

She whispered, “Si, signore.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as he eased into her – his bold girth stretched her delicate skin – the intricate texture pressed deep inside her. Her sweet perfume tantalized him as he pressed his face into her shoulder. She exalted, “I love the way you fuck me!” His back arched, thighs tightened – his cock erupted, filling Amara’s body with streams of hot cum.

§

Greg and Amara embraced on the couch, full of dreams and optimism. They looked into each other’s eyes and cast away the sorrow from the years they spent apart. Greg said, “It’s getting dark outside. Will you stay with me tonight?”

Amara said, “I’ll stay with you every night if you let me.”

He held her tightly. “I love to hear you say that. I never want to be without you.”

Amara knew Greg was the only one for her. No one else fulfilled her dreams so completely. She lifted his face gently in her hands and looked into his eyes. She confessed, “There’s one thing I must ask if we are to spend our lives together.”

Greg never knew happiness like he found with Amara. He responded with unwavering devotion, “I’ll do anything for you.”

Amara said, “I’m starving. Can we please order some pizza?”