A Journey with Julie

A Journey with Julie

Hopefully, you may have read (or perhaps skimmed)Introduction to Julie. She is described in that narrative as is our initial "coming together." If it's not a great imposition, a short review of the first part of that saga might enrich one's reading of this offering.

The Interview

As is often the case, Julie and I became more trusting in the sexual sense; that is to say, we answered each other's questions and attempted to satisfy our mutual curiosities about what we did (and were doing) with others. Julie had a very rich portfolio considering that she had then been divorced less then two years.

There is something voyeuristic (aurelistic?) in listening to the escapades of a woman you're involved with—I guess that's why there are so many guys online who want to watch someone fuck their wives. That's enough of my alleged intellectualism.

I asked Julie about her youth, her job and her "current events." She seemed to relish answering and disclosing stuff that turned me on. As a generous, sensitive guy, I'll try to share some of Julie's repertoire.

Julie exhibited only a mild curiosity about my dalliances, mostly relating to the sordid and erotic stuff between me and my ex-wife and other women I had seen since my divorce. But although she made inquiry and politely listened, it was with the air of someone awaiting her turn to get to the real important, juicy stuff.

She became very animated when she revealed to me about how she teased men during work (as an upscale property manager) and those she met by chance. At her job, interviewing prospective lifeguards for summer pool work at her primo condo building (two pools) was a marvelous example.

Julie loved the springtime because that was when young college guys would apply for summer jobs as lifeguards. The job was easy, the tenants and guests wealthy and the pay was good. As told to me by Julie, the applicant would show up for his scheduled interview often unaware that Julie required an "in uniform" dialogue.

Julie had gorgeous legs. On interview days, she always wore very sheer panty hose, no panties and a skirt with a substantial slit up the side(s). Her desk was up against a wall in a smallish office; she had to swing around to face her visitor who would be sitting on a much lower lounge chair ( subservient to her).Julie always kept several pair of the uniform briefs furnished to the condo's lifeguards. Female applicants were only considered by Julie if forced upon her by residents' clout. You get the picture.

Julie told me of a very handsome, well built, tall applicant, who was, charitably speaking, of almost average intelligence. The day he appeared was shortly after he turned nineteen.

The young man was nicely dressed but did not bring a swimming suit. Julie informed him that each candidate had to appear in suitable gear for a Polaroid photo to present to the board. Julie brought the young man out of his unprepared funk by presenting him with a pair of the orange briefs; she told him to change and return.

When the boy re-entered Julie's office (wearing only the briefs), Julie had positioned herself in her chair with the slit of her skirt agape showing panty hose well past the center of her shapely thighs. The top two buttons of her blouse were open, exposing the upper portion of her shapely breasts. Polaroid camera in her hands, she motioned the lad to stand opposite her.

Julie then did what she does best. She nonchalantly turned reaching behind her to her desk, spreading her legs and riding her up her skirt still higher. Her chair back reclined as she tuned her torso lifting her legs and giving the youth a direct view of her panty-less crotch; she knew the dark matted pubic hair of her mons was visible through the sheer panty hose.

Julie held the position, ostensibly looking for a paper behind her; then, she abruptly turned back to see the lad agape, staring directly up her skirt.

To her delight, the candidate's rather large cock was clearly outlined pointing to its right pushing on the thin fabric of the briefs.

Of course Julie made him pose several different ways often innocently brushing her hand against his hard-on. She also bent over to flaunt her cleavage, her face coming perilously close to his cock.

At the end of the interview, Julie innocently pulled one knee up to her chest, feigning concentration on the merits of the young man's candidacy. She knew, and was turned on knowing the boy while had a straight-on view of her mound, now very moist. The applicant, unknowingly, had slightly stained his briefs--just alongside the head of his dick was a small spot on the orange fabric, his raging hard-on pushing against the briefs.

The interview over, Julie dismissed the lad. She waited a few moments then quietly followed him into the (unisex) washroom. He was in the nearest stall, the briefs removed, his long, rigid cock up against his lower abdomen. Julie noted his huge balls encased in their hairless sac.

The boy's cock bobbed up and down as he frantically tried to rub out the pre-cum stains from the briefs. Julie pretended that she had not seen him while making him of her presence. Continuing to ignore the boy, Julie muttered loud enough for him to hear,

"Damn, these were expensive hose!"

She had removed her skirt and placed it on the vanity. While looking in the mirror, Julie slowly began to roll down her pantyhose. As she reached her ankles she stepped out of them and bent over to pick up them up. Her back to the boy, Julie knew the lad could see her unclad ass and pussy lips.

Now naked from the waist down, she bunched up the pantyhose and strode over to her right mumbling in an aggravated tone,

"Into the garbage you go."

Still watching the candidate in the mirror, she moved to the sink, bent over and splashed water on her hands, and as though an afterthought, she sprinkled some water on her beautiful pussy, making sure her protruding labia were refreshed. She turned looking over her shoulder at her backside in the mirror now exhibiting her glistening crotch to the boy, full on and unobstructed.

Leisurely, turning back to face the mirror, she dabbed at her face with paper towels; moving to her groin, she tamped down the dampness while deliciously stimulating her mound. Her eyes caught the lad in the mirror stroking his cock, moisture on its purplish head.

Julie bent over to pick up her skirt again granting the boy another look at her round ass and slit. She saw the lad between her legs; he was still furiously massaging his long shaft but now his other hand was fondling his balls; he obviously approaching climax.

Standing up, Julie turned on her heel and fully faced the young man. Not realizing he'd been "caught," the boy continued his rapid stroking. Oblivious, he groaned; a thin ribbon of semen spurted from his cock. More jism seeped out of his dick as he finally made eye contact with Julie.

The boy blushed a deep red and mumbled,

"Oh fuck, I'm dead."

Julie, using her school teacher demeanor, scolded him:

"What are you doing; were you looking at me?"

He slumped, then grabbed his clothes and started to bolt. Julie moderating her tone to a throaty chuckle, told him,

"You've got the job."

It should be noted that during the time Julie was telling me that story she was absentmindedly stroking my cock while lightly touching her mound. She looked at me and smirked.

Sighing contentedly in her remembrance, Julie slowly rolled over on top of me and took my hard-on and inserted it into her pussy. She jokingly ordered,

"Don't move or I'll fireyou!"

Julie began thrusting herself on my cock and reached between her thighs to her mons. I watched her tweak her pink clit with two manicured fingers. Her up- and- down action on my cock coupled with the visual sight of her hard nippled breasts jiggling and busy fingers were all I could take. I experienced that wondrous pleasure of impending release, my balls tightened as I shot my semen into her.

Unaware of my climax, Julie's eyes remained closed but her fingers increased their speed, rapidly stroking her clitoris. Thank goodness my cock stayed relatively hard because she kept at it for few minutes, her moans increasing in volume. I was getting turned on again gawking at the ballet of her digits moving in her now soaked and shiny pubic hair. Julie gasped in a guttural voice,

"Oh, yesssss."

She slumped forward onto my chest and almost immediately fell asleep (andtheytalk about us guys!).

Later, during a post-coital dialogue, and as an apparent afterthought, Julie asked me if I thought she should have fucked the poor kid or at least made him eat her. Before I could respond to her rhetorical question, Julie exclaimed,

"It was just a thought; he was only a kid!"

This digression serves only to illustrate Julie's love of sexual tension- that electric energy which turned her on. In part, it was because of that incident that I decided to ask Julie if she wanted to accompany me on a bar association boondoggle to the south of France and Monaco, I did and she accepted.

The Journey

It was a stifling August afternoon when we were to depart on a chartered flight to Nice. I had lots of office shit to attend to in the limo (special occasion). Enroute to the airport, Julie languorously stretched her long sinuous legs and, without preamble, reached under her white voile sleeveless shirt and removed her wispy lace bra. Dropping my cell (and disconnecting my secretary), I gaped through her arm hole at the now visible curve of her left breast seeing just the hint of its beige areole.

Julie smiled affectionately, fluttered her eyelids and looked at me,

"I bet I could kick your ass in court without saying a word."

I responded eloquently: "no fucking contest!" I lunged towards her and we groped and giggled, the driver no doubt enjoying Julie's charms.

We arrived at the airport, checked our bags, went through passport rituals and walked to our departure gate. Julie was walking in manner and form so as to draw maximum attention to her unbridled breasts. Guys walking in the opposite direction were walking into each other; their wives, et al, were giving them glares indicating a great deal of imminent grief.

Reaching our gate, we learned that there was a special pre-flight party in a VIP lounge nearby. We walked over, entered and were presented with the pervasive aroma of Macanudos and overuse of questionable cologne. It was difficult choosing which was more offensive.

Julie however, was flush with excitement. There were some pseudo prominent local big shots present, flashing their bald or comb-over pates and pinky signet rings. Her condo president, also a lawyer, was among the horde; he was openly ogling Julie. He fit the foregoing description, but to distinguish himself, he had added a disgusting gold necklace, in his judgment, perfect for the occasion.

Julie had swilled several glasses of ersatz champagne and was working the room. Besides her no-bra blouse, she was wearing a very short pleated skirt which swirled upwards as she girlishly shifted her hips. Her long "blond" hair (weknow it's not au naturel), was styled, very straight with bangs fluttering down to her pretty blue eyes. She always bathed in some stuff called Mink & Pearls which had a delicate scent and made her skin appear even smoother and glowing. Julie was a consummate flirt and I loved watching her ply her trade.

She walked towards the condo guy whilst I went to take a pre-flight piss. As I returned from the men's room I heard our boarding announcement. I sought Julie and found her nuzzling her condo boss. She was casually leaning against him and looking adoringly into his cigar decorated face. Before I reached them, he (luckily) saw his matronly wife approaching and reluctantly disengaged himself. I fetched Julie and steered her toward the jetway.

The charter flight was one big party. The private charter plane had a four person seat configuration, two seats, window and aisle on each side, facing each other. We hooked up with Lois, a lawyer colleague, and her husband, Fred. I knew her pretty well and started bantering with us. She has a great sense of humor.

Lois was into litigation; we had opposed one another in many matters. She sat opposite me. Fred, seated opposite Julie was an estate planning attorney and a crashing bore. He seemed enraptured with Julie's now tipsy and somewhat exhibitionistic behavior. Lois leaned towards me and asked me if I was pissed off. I told her it was kind of a turn on.

Julie was not nearly as drunk as she pretended and sitting right across from Fred, she could play as she pleased. Lois surreptitiously signaled me to watch her husband's reaction as she rose and went to the ladies' room. I closed my eyes feigning a nap, but gave Julie a slight elbow indicating my approval and encouragement of her flirtation. A moment later I heard Julie complain:

"It's stifling, don't you think, Fred?"

Julie started fanning herself with her short, pleated, navy blue skirt. I smelled her delightful perfume and listened to her sigh, mimicking the noise of her skirt's movement. I knew Julie was wearing lacy white, shear panties having groped her in the limo. Through my veiled eyes, I could see Fred loosening his starched collar and disengaging the first button. Fred's face had become florid, glowing with perspiration. He made that noise indicative of clearing one's throat, almost choked and finally, muttered,

"Er, yes, it's dreadfully warm, Jeanie."

"My name isJulieFred; do you mind if I stretch out my legs?"

"Er, uh, yes, uh no, I don't mind at all, uh, Julie."

"Fred, it's very close in here, can I put my legs on up on your seat?"

Apparently, not content to wait for an answer, Julie kicked off her Jimmy Choo pumps and put one foot on either side of Fred's seat. That motion caused her long shapely legs to spread; her little skirt riding up still higher giving Fred a clear view of her sheer lacy panties.

It was now Julie's turn to "nap."

She pushed her seatback button and reclined. Julie flexed her knees outward spreading her legs still wider apart. She fanned her skirt up and down a few more times and (purportedly) drifted off.

Fred was ogling Julie's crotch as if he were a pointer finding grouse. He was absently licking his lips and panting. I noted his right hand was adjusting the area under his trouser's fly. In fact, he then began adjusting himself with regularity.

Julie moved restlessly in her sleep. "Accidentally," her left foot fell onto Fred's crotch where his hand was still adjusting his trousers. Her pedicured toes looked incongruous abutting his hairy knuckles and back dropped by the drab brown of his pants.

Julie was into her finale. She dropped her right foot to the floor and slouched. Her skirt had ridden up so that her panties were in full view. She moved her right hand to her groin and softly stroked her panty covered mound. She murmured softly as if dreaming of something pleasant.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her panties as well. The sheer fabric over her mons was showing signs of moistness. Julie's foot was rubbing the side of the bulge in Fred's pants as he was now busily "adjusting" the tip of his bulge. This continued for a few moments until Julie sighed contentedly and stretched out her arms preparatory to awakening.

Fred jerked his hand away from his trousers and looked to his right out the porthole. Julie opened her eyes,

"It's still hot."

Fred turned back towards Julie and nervously nodded. Julie reached upwards with her left arm to open the vent tube. Her movement caused her left foot, still in Fred's crotch, to bump his pants covered cock full on. It also caused her blouse "Inadvertently" to come open momentarily exposing her right breast.

"Oh, I'm sorry Fred." Julie smiled sensually, while slowly removing her foot.

"Uh, it's OK, Julie."

"And just look at my blouse! Oops, don't look!" Julie modestly covered her breast and buttoned that garment.

While the show was going on, my sinuses had finally cleared of the cigar and perfume stench. As a consequence, I thought I smelled Julie's vaginal scent, an odor that was just pungent enough to be recognizable yet a pheromone triggering my primordial lust. I was really excited!

Musing about my emerging hard-on, I felt a nudge on my right arm-- it was a flight attendant with vodka over ice for me. She told me that it was from Lois who was waiting at the aft bar. I rearranged my dick, excused myself, and walked to the rear of the plane where a small bar was set up.

Lois, weary of being single had married in her mid 30s in hopes of placating her family. She was very witty and loved to party. When I arrived, she grabbed me, pulled me against her and gave me a big hug. Standing on tiptoes, she nibbled my ear. Her breath was warm and sexy as she murmured:

"Your girlfriend is going to give my husband a heart attack!"

"Relax Lois, she's just a little drunk and excited about the trip. I'm sure she won't hurt him."

"You moron! You're enjoying this-getting turned on teasing poor Freddie!"

Lois moved closer, took a quick look around, grabbed my crotch and squeezed my dick. She bit her lip, smiling coyly as she looked into my eyes and slipped her hand up and down my hardening shaft. She demurely whispered,

"Freddie and I, we can't handle a foursome."

Aghast, but pretending élan, I "suavely" asked Lois,

"You want me to tell Julie to stop fooling around?"

"No, no, for heavens sake no. If Fred doesn't die in his seat, maybe I'll get lucky later!" She laughed and released my cock.

"Is there anything I can do to make you continue punishing me?" I begged.

Maureen pressed her palm against my swollen dick and leered up at me. She scolded,

"Don't be an asshole. Let's go back and see if your girlfriend made me a widow."

When Lois and I returned to our seats, both Freddie and Julie were asleep—Julie modestly so under a blue blanket. Freddie was snoring, legs splayed, a large wet spot to left of the fly of his brown herringbone trousers.

The balance of the flight was uneventful. After getting settled in our hotel, not much interesting stuff occurred for several days despite the romantic venue of the trip.

However, pure chance enabled me to experience an unusual and highly charged erotic situation. It happened two days before we were scheduled to go home.

The Beach

I went to a few of the seminars; we rented a car, toured the area and did the usual: casinos, museums and churches. On the evening of a black tie affair, glowing with fine wine and spectacular food, Julie and I ducked out before the cigars, brandies and speeches.

We went to Loews's casino and won a bit money playing craps (I dislike gambling but Julie found it exciting). We adjourned to the lobby lounge and promptly began a conversation with an extraordinary couple from Italy, obviously very affluent and very charming. They quickly learned that it was Julie's birthday and ordered Dom Perignon.

The guy, Mario, was tall, angular very hip-- early 30s.He was not good looking but magnetic and very smart. His wife was breathtakingly beautiful, unobtrusive and demure. Julie was pissy because of the lady's very evident and breathtaking beauty and, I assumed because I was drooling over her. Her name was Marta.

The conversation was peppered with laughter, hand and knee touching and champagne. Entranced with Marta, I wasn't paying much attention to Julie and Mario until I heard Mario opine about women at the local beaches. He was explaining that:

"You will love the freedom; everybody goes topless in Monte Carlo!"