Attractiveness of NWFP as a value beyond price
The value of a product is generally associated with its price: higher the price, higher the value. This perception can be applied also to the Non-Wood Forest Products (NWFPs) sector: for instance, truffles are more attractive for companies than other edible but mediocre mushrooms, due to the higher willingness to pay of consumers. Nevertheless, a NWFP can have a value that goes beyond its price: its attractiveness.
The appeal of a territory is usually linked to its characteristics and peculiarities, that needs to be communicated toward effective territorial marketing strategies. In this respect, NWFPs can play an important role and their integration in the marketing strategy can have a positive impact, contributing to enlarge the tourist portfolio of a destination.
The INCREDIBLE project Cross cutting seminar, held in Val Taro, Emilia Romagna region in Italy, aimed to give an overview of the importance of territorial marketing and present some best practices. Days after this meeting, we still have some issues to reflect on and review.
NWFPs are very different, ranging from the non-edible ones such as cork, resin, and herbs to the edible one such as mushrooms, truffles, nuts and berries: every product has its peculiarities, but there are similarities in the way they can be used as a marketing element.
Tourists are the final “users” of the supply chain and in order to attract them an organized and appealing destination is essential. Understanding the peculiarities, the strengths and the weaknesses of a territory is the first step to decide what communicate to the tourists. Participative approaches between local authorities, inhabitants and all the local stakeholders are fundamental to understand and then communicate what a territory can offer. The organization and the coherence of the tourism destination are much more important than the specific product. The identification and the valorization of a local gastronomic excellences or a traditional product can be an added value for a destination, but it is secondary in respect to the coordination and the organization of all the destination.
The use of trademarks and labels can play a central role in the communication of the quality of a specific product. In the case of certified gastronomic products, such as ‘Fungo di Borgotaro IGP’ (Borgotaro PGI mushrooms) or Melinda DOP (POD apples), presented as best case studies, the tourist can recognize the European label and expects, as a consequence, that also the rest of the tourism destination has a high standard. Therefore, trademarks and certifications can play a central role in the promotion and have a high impact also in the production of the NWFP. The interactions, the connections and the synergies between the production-oriented businesses and the service-oriented ones should be several and strategic to gain reciprocal benefits. For instance, in some of the best practices presented, local restaurants and accommodation structures use local certified products. Furthermore, interesting and appealing experiences, based on certified products, such as tours, harvesting activities, can be organized.
To conclude, both edible and non-edible NWFPs can fascinate the curiosity of tourists. For this reason, they can be integrated into territorial marketing strategies and become economically important not just for their intrinsic value but also for their attractiveness. Find the proper balance between production and service businesses, coordinated by an effective territorial marketing strategy that takes actively into account all the stakeholders, is the key to success.
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He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?”
“I don’t wanna jack-off, dad.” He says flabbergasted to his dad as he turns off the tap to the hot and chilly water in the shower. “That you are, son. You are busting at the seams with your youth and muscles. Rippled from those vigorous physical workouts and stroking sessions. I bet.” His dad says. “You are gonna hafta to take care of that or you are gonna be miserable. You know that son, doncha. You know, I am right.”
“You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.” “You are grown. Yes. Physically. Yes, my son. But a full man. No! No!” His father, says, sharply. “You have much more to grow, to mature, before you are a man, before you can call yourself. A man.”
“You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?” He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.
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The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day. “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.
Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.
“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?” “I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.
Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.” Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.
He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise. “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”
“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.
His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
“Then, what is this, father.” He says as he wrestles his cock in a fierce grip and squeezes it like he is fighting against a serpent unleashed from its coil. He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel.
“Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.” He does not hear the slamming of the front door. Neither does he hear the footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway. The shower drowns away all this noise.
That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.” “Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.
Garrett nods to his father. “What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”
Daddy smiled and said, “ that is my good boy. Don’t even want to leave your daddy’s Ripe socks on the floor. That’s the respect I love boy.” I then was told to clean his left foot. “Scrub these whitish paste out in my toenails. I want you to smell and place them in your mouth and let me see.” Daddy commented. It smelled and tasted like Brie cheese. Then I moved my tongue in between daddy’s toes. I cleaned up so well. Just thought I was finished. Daddy said,” the sole is clammy. It has nature feet oil after a whole day in the shoes, you think you finished fag. Keep working on that.” “I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”
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“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. The sound of the shower echoes throughout the empty house. The bathroom door is open. He knows he has privacy. He is alone. No older brother. No father. Or mother. It is just him.
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” “You lettin’ the beard grow on your face, I see, son?” His father asks him, as his head bumps up under the chin of his towering son.
Exactly a week after, daddy texted me with a different tone saying, “ get your ass ready tonight cause daddy is coming to your place tonight.” He was usually really sweet and nice, I was shot when I got the message. But automatically I said, “ yes daddy!” I guess I am a slutty whore for him right at the beginning as I knew my place where is always going to be inferior. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.
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He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son. He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel.
He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.
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“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” “Yes, sir.” He says as he straightens up, standing erect as his member pulses to life between his legs, and in his father’s right hand, which are firmly locked on his balls. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims. He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower.
“You know what you have to do. Doncha. Son.” His dad says. “What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants.
“What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants. “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” He does not say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more.
His bare ass melts to the lid of the toilet bowl. He sweats from the steam and the exertions from his continued pounding of the fierceness of his cock. He wiggles as his ass opens, squeaking on the plastic surface of the thrown lid, as he takes whiffs from the cum soaked pouch of the jock that covers his face. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”
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“Thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He answers. “I want to show the world that I am a man, like you. Father.” “I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”
“FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region. He dries himself but his throbbing cock continues to pulse as it grows harder because of his youth. The sensation intensifies. The feeling is wonderful. He can hear his cock throbbing in his ears.
“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. “FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region.
He is unfazed by the presence of his dad despite his nakedness inside the hot spray of the shower. He runs the towel through his curl-filled hair, and down over his chest, where the early signs of his manhood sprout like an uneven crop of hairs across his chest that run down to his furry-pillowed crotch. Where the throbbing from his hard-on springs back as the damp towel whips his erection back and forth with each swipe of the now dampened towel.
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” “I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
“What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face. “What ya lifting now?” His dad asks as he fidgets on the commode seat. He can feel his hard-on growing in his pants.
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “Damn it, son! Damn it! Damn it, you hit the mirror above the sink!” His father shouts as the bullets of cum shoot forth from his son’s cock and hits the adjacent mirror directly in front of the porcelain bathroom thrown.
“I look forward to the day when you are a fully grown man, my son.” His father says. “I am anxious to see the fruit of my loins reach his fully-adorned manhood. Adulthood.” “You guys jerk off together, these days?” His dad asks, “Back when I was in high school me and several of my friends would jerk-off in our trucks in the parking lot. We were so horny we could barely sit in our seats. You ever do that Garrett?”
He reaches and lets his hand glide over his swelled cock. Tickling the head of his bulbous cock with his rough fingertips which sends electric sparks through him and down to his toes. All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.
“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” “That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”
His father’s words are what he hears when he erupts. His cum streaming like liquid threads from the pee-hole of his rigid cock. His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations.
His father kicks the shoes from his feet and slides his khaki pants off, while still holding, the resistant nut-sac of his virile son in his right hand. He is now as naked as his 17-year-old son. His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs.
Daddy was furious as I could hear his deep breath. He sat down on the bench by the door. I was looking down afraid he was going to kick my ass. He lifted my head from my chin using the tip of his loafer where I can smell that smelly sheer socks he has been worn all day. Just when our eyes met, a big stinky manly wad landed on my face. Then I felt a big rough hand rubbing the spit all over my face. I heard the daddy say, “ next time remember what I told you exactly, I don’t want this to happen again, you hear me? I paused and said, “ yeeee…”. Before I finished the sentence, another spit and a big slap on me. “ when I told you something you must say yes. There is no room for you to argue or think, understood?” He said in a deep and firm tone. “ yes sir”. Without missing a beep I said it. “good boy, your night is just about to start.” The one shower after his workout and practice had been a good start. But the walk home had tired him. But the massaging jets of water caressing across his muscular frame takes the weariness from his bones from this stressful day.
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“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.” All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.
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