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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“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.
“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.
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“That your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
“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.”
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.
“I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.”
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.
“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.
“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?”
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”
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.
Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”
“Was it because of that?” His dad asks as he points a finger towards him. And his midsection.
“I bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”
“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”
“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?”
“Pick it up and smell the crotch.” His dad says.
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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.
“Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”
“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?”
“This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.”
“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.”
“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.
“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” His father bellows.
“I managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”
“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.”
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.
“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 bet you got some stares from the other boys in the locker room.” His dad adds. “You couldn’t miss it.”
“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.”
“Yes! Yes! I know you understand.” His father proudly exclaims.
“Yeah.” He answers his dad. “…and I was ‘going commando’ too.”
I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.”
He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father.
“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.
“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.”
Garrett resumes the fondling of his cock while he takes long drawn-out whiffs from his sweat, piss and cum stained jockstrap.
“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.
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, 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.”
“I ain’t a-talking ‘bout how big ya cock is, boy. I am talking ‘bout ya, weight. Your height.” His dad says. “I kinda figured on how big you are down there. That’s obvious. It makes me proud of you. My son. Of what I created, along with ya mother.”
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.
“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?”
He reaches for and cups the wiggling low hangers of his teenage son.
“Nope.” He says. Flatly. As he runs his hand over his still steely-hard length of his curved cock.
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