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.
El proyecto INCREDIBLE recibe fondos del programa Horizon 2020 de la Comisión Europea en el marco del acuerdo de subvención Nº 774.632.
Comentarios (42332)
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. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.
Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat. Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
“Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure. “Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice.
His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead. 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.
“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows. “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.”
“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. 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.
“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. “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 didn’t move and I didn’t want to move because the smell in there is so toxic. I can smell daddy’s unwashed ass in there. I was also so happy as daddy sat on the toilet to released his scent just for me to sniff. Just when The scent faded away I heard the daddy say, “Come here, boy.” I saw daddy sitting on my couch with nothing but a white brief on. The bulge was staring at me. I knew I was going to be having a wonderful night. “What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.
“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?” His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.
“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says. “I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.
“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. “Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.
His father loosens his grip on the full balls of his son as he stands. He can see the spurts of hair that dot the chest of his son. And he can see the heaving and gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, as he breathes, as his excitement builds. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
“Back in the day, back before we turned into a modern society, a man would grab another man’s balls and swear an oath on them in his hand and state his words to be true. To be a friend” His father says. “Do you know what I mean, son?” “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”
“Once you plant that cock of yours in some squirmy hole and empty those warm balls of yours into a moist wet hole. Then you are on your way to becoming a man, and only then will you, come-of-age. But it is only a step onto the winding pathway towards manhood. It is my job to teach you what it means to be a man.” His father stands as he finishes his sentence. Loosening his belt and pulling his shirt out from the tucked confines of his pants. “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.
“Then show me, father. Show me what it means, TO BE A MAN?” He says with an excitement building in his voice. The pre-cum leaks, like a babbling brook, from the boy’s erect and pulsing cock, depositing its tiny droplets of juice onto the arm-hairs of his proud father. His father squeezes the nuts of his son, tighter and tighter, releasing more of the youthful essence.
“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “Do it!” His dad orders.
“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 say anything in response to his father as his cock continues pulsing and jumping as the blood engorges his youthful cock more. And more.
“But you didn’t though, did you, son?” “Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!”
“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. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.
Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body. “I’m am nearly 6 foot 2 inches tall, dad. I weigh 210 lbs. I think, dad. At least I was the last time we were weighed at football practice.” The son says. “Much bigger than you, I should say.”
“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.” “Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure.
Garrett thinks to himself; he did not wear a jock home from practice. He was ‘going commando.” Is it his older brother’s jock? “Oh, well. “He mumbles to himself as he takes another whiff of the musky scented pouch of the jock. “Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”
“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.” “What…huh…what, dad?” He asks, puzzled by the question from his dad. As his cock is mere inches from his dad’s face.
“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains. 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.”
“My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.” All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.
“Yep. I’ve had one since I put on my gear at practice today.” He tells his dad. “Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.
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.” He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.
“I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom. His father strokes his own cock in the shower, the dew from his cock mixes with the drops condensing on the glass.
The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. “What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.
He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. “Yeah. Yessir. Dad.” Garrett mutters.
“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock. “What are ya now, by the way?”
He looks down. And then smiles at his dad. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.
“What happened at today’s practice today that was so different from any other day, son?” His dad asks. “That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.” 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.
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. 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.
“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. Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose.
“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.” After I serve daddy’s left one, I was about to move to the right foot. While He stopped me, stood up, and walked towards the couch, he said “Crawling right after me.” I followed daddy. My nose was where daddy’s ass was. I was staring at that crotch while I was crawling, and I didn’t realize daddy stopped one of a sudden in front of the bathroom. My nose is slightly right into that dreaming ass crack.
“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.” “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.”
Garrett nods his head as he wraps the jock over his head, and takes a hearty breathe of the pouch placed over his nose. 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.
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. 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.
“My hard-on. Somewhat. But I have them all the time. You know that. You’ve made enough comments about me sportin’ boners in the morning when you see them at breakfast.” The helmet of the man’s cock weaves a picture of no recognition as the father’s cum streaks itself through the watery haze.
“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.” His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.
“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.” “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.”
“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks. “Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”
His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid. “I am fully grown now, Father.” He says in a heated rebuttal to his father’s words.
His father steps into the shower, turning on the water. As he soaks and lathers himself up under the lukewarm stream of water, he fondles his cock and balls. His cock soon mimics that of his son. 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.
“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims. “Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!”
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. “What are ya now, by the way?”
The now lukewarm water streams through the curls of his hair rinsing away the last vestiges of the soapy lather. It all goes down the drain in a swirl of bubbles. 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.
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.” “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.”
Páginas
Add Comment