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 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.
Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
“I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.
“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.”
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“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.
“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!”
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.”
“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.
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.
“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”
“It was intense. Really intense. We ran so many drills. I am exhausted.” He explains.
“And you did it with that. Your boner?” His dad asks. “I guess.”
“Maybe his dad is right.” He thinks to himself as he continues with his intense fondling of his fiery red cock.
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 your jockstrap on the floor next to you, son?” His dad asks.
His father unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the bathroom floor. Where his son is like the mythical David, cast in stone with blonde locks and cherubic face. The father is dark and with a day’s growth of stubble on his face.
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Garrett sits on the commode, where his father had sat.
“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 managed to lift nearly two hundred today. I believe.” He explains. “But I strained a lot to do it. I was moaning. Groaning.”
“What are you now, son?”
He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement.
His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.
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.
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.”
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.
“Dad! Dad!” His son says in a straining voice. “Release me?”
“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?”
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.
“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 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.
“I thought you usually showered after practice. In the locker room.” His dad asks as he walks into the open door of the bathroom.
“Last I measured, I was nearly eight inches, dad. Maybe more. I may be even bigger, who knows.” He answers nonchalantly.
His father rakes the clear juice of his son’s leaking manhood over the boy’s tensed cockhead.
“What did Coach have to say when he saw all those hard-young cocks in the locker room?” His dad asks.
“What are ya now, by the way?”
“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, 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 looks down. And then smiles at his dad.
“What?’ He balks at the suggestion from his dad.
“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.”
“See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”
Garrett picks up the pee-stained and cum-leaked jock from the tile floor.
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.
“Do it!” His dad orders.
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.
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.
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