Julie in Owl-Light:...

Julie in Owl-Light: A Letter Not Mailed

You’d been in Florence for three days, shopping and sight-seeing, and this was your last night in the city. Your hotel was ‘La Rosetta’, an exquisite three-star pensione on Via Cavour, about five minutes’ walk from the centre of activity. My photographic assignment had also just finished, so I called and invited you to dinner. You agreed, and close to 8pm we met outside ‘La Casa Bella’, a small, family-run restaurant that overlooked the River Arno. I’d eaten here several times before and Valerio, the owner, had always made me welcome.

“Ciao, Stefano,” he said as we entered. “Come stai?”

“Bene, grazie,” I replied. “Molto bene.”

Then, glancing at you, he smiled and whispered to me, “Mmmm. La donna e bellisima, eh Stefano?”

“Si, Valerio. La signora e Julie.”

“Ah, bella nome, signora! Julie!”

We laughed at Valerio’s Tuscan enthusiasm as he showed us to our table.

Our meal was Italian at its finest; pasta, wine and exquisite dolci. And of course coffee as we watched lantern lights scribble smudges of yellow along the water. It was a relaxed time, with our animated conversation being punctuated by touches and smiles. And underlying the utterances was a tacit, hormonal tension. When we’d finished, Valerio kissed you on both cheeks and then opened the door.

“Thank you, Valerio,” you said as he handed you your woollen coat. There was a slight edge to the air, as if the city were warning that winter was soon to insinuate itself into bone and tissue. Rubbing my hands together, I suggested a taxi ride back to the hotel, but you wanted to walk; to be immersed in the sense of sensuality that susurrated down small streets which smelled of leather. So we walked, brushing against couples who chatted and avoiding touts who conned; across cobble-stones worn by age and shoes; along avenues crowded with Vespas; down alleys packed with cats and cars; around lovers oblivious to all but whispers. This was Florence; old as mystery; misted in memory. Bella citta.

Arriving at the hotel, you touched my arm and said, “Can you come in or do you have other plans?’

“I have other plans but they can’t be completed unless I do come in.”

Just then, a veil of rain fell, covering your hair with gossamer dew. In the owl-light, you were both shadow and substance, hope and heart-beat, pulse and passion. Fresh and fabulous, you scurried to the door and held it open. You held it open for me.

We waited only a minute for the elevator to arrive, and going up to your room, your radiant face and plum-red lips were breath-close. There was a humming-bird uncertainty in the air, but you simply smiled and invited with your eyes. We kissed; lightly at first, exploring each other’s lips, then came that rapturous moment when your tongue touched mine. I swam in your mouth as you engulfed me; your hand trailed through my hair, down my shirt and came to rest at the front of my trousers. Needless to say, I was erect, as were your nipples that pushed against my shirt. In an attempt to relieve the tension, you mumbled something about needing some more coffee, but my reply simply intensified the atmosphere. “Julie, you won’t be getting coffee. I’m going to fuck you.”

It was as if rock had struck rock and sparked. I’d never before said the word ‘fuck’ with such deliberate intention. It was an utterance that flowed from an overwhelming desire.

Your room was larger than most; two Modigliani prints dominated the white walls, and from the ceiling, downlights spotted the leather sofa and suffused the area with a soft ambiance. To the left was a door; slightly ajar, I could see a queen-sized bed. Placing your purse on the sofa, you said, “Have a guess why I chose this room?”

“You got it at half-price because it doubles as the lobby?”

A smile creased the corners of your mouth. “No, silly, there’s a bidet in the bathroom. It’s more stimulating than a shower nozzle”

We both laughed, and the moment was cake-warm and relaxed. Between us was no space; we were sealed in an envelope of affection. You then went to the min-bar, opened it and asked if I wanted a drink.

“Sure. I want to drink you. Julie, take your clothes off.”

There was a look of willing compliance in your eyes as you began unzipping the black dress that had been clinging to your curves all that evening. It dropped to the floor and it was then that I saw the focus of my desire; bare breasts, nipples brown and berry-hard, a kissable stomach, thighs that almost sighed against your black lace panties.

“Exquisite. Now… your panties… take them off too.”

You hesitated, deliberately. “Maybe we should wait, Stephen. This is our first time and…”

“You’re right, love. We should wait.”

About five seconds went by.

“Right, we’ve waited,” I said with a soft laugh. “Take your panties off.”

You smiled broadly and raised your gorgeous eyebrows. Two fingers then went to the lace and slowly pulled. Like a slowly revealed secret, it appeared; a pubic patch like a wildflower meadow – dark and dewy; a woman’s earth, fecund and fresh.

“Don’t you feel a little over-dressed?” you said, chuckling. Sublime sensitivity; you knew the perfect way to soften the texture of the moment.

“That’s not the only thing I’m feeling,” I replied as I dropped everything including my inhibitions.

“Good, because I’d like to make this a long evening.” Your hands then cupped your breasts and you pushed them up, your blue eyes never leaving mine as your fingers lingered around your nipples.

“Julie, let me do that.”

You nodded your agreement and offered your breasts. My mouth melted across the fullness of them, trailing a liquid tongue-line as I explored your skin. Your nipples almost buzzed as I sucked and swallowed; tasted and teased. And so erotic was the contrast between softness of flesh and hardness of peaks. Nibbling and nipping… kneading with my hands and knowing with my mouth. Such beautiful breasts… bliss on my lips.

“I see you’re enjoying this,” you said as my penis twitched and expanded against the down of your delta. “Is there anything I can do to help you even more?”

Giving your nipples one final kiss, I looked directly into your softening eyes and said, “I want to watch you masturbate… for me.”

There was a moment of silence. I wasn’t sure if I’d offended you. And then, like steam from trains in the far-away night, my concern vanished when you sank to the carpet, lithe as a cat, spread your legs, and purred, “Like this?”

It was a powerful moment. Two red-nailed fingers began brushing through your pubic hair, curling the silken strands and gently pulling. Then one silver-ringed finger slipped between your lips, spreading the soft flesh as it explored and probed. Another finger entered, found that filament and began rubbing. Your swollen clitoris was clearly visible as you pleasured your pinkness… pleasured it for me.

“Am I doing it the way you want, Stephen?”

“You are doing it perfectly, my love.”

“And this?” you added, slowly placing your cum-slick fingers in your mouth. “Do you like me doing this?”

It was more than I could resist. Dropping to my knees, I slid my hands beneath your buttocks and drew your velvet valley to my mouth. As an audible affirmation, you let a small sigh escape as my tongue found your blushing bud. It was the pearl inside the oyster, and I tasted salt and sex and sweet river. Also detectable was the scent of ‘Paris’. As a lover, you knew that sensory stimulation was vital. Your tang on my tongue was intoxicating, and you wrapped your thighs around my head and thrust your pubis into my mouth with increasing energy.

“Yes, Stephen, fuck me with your tongue. Make me cum.”

And I did. Julie, I fucked you with my tongue; fucked and sucked and slid and swallowed. Your flesh flushed and flowed. In my mouth and down my throat your joy flowed. And you came; you came with your filament clitoris flaming; once, twice, three times. After about 10 seconds, you subsided into contentment and kissed the head of my cock. Small drops of semen were licked away and you smiled.

You then stood and went towards the bedroom. As you walked, your buttocks rolled like marbles; round, smooth and sigh-soft. And it was then that I saw the small tattoo… a bear; illumination etched into the vellum of your skin. As you opened the door, you bent over and stared at me through your opened legs. “Give me a second.”

It turned out to be about 30 and then I heard you call. When I entered the room, you were on the bed, lying face down on a sky-blue sheet, the light from the bedside lamp giving your warm, fair skin a golden glow. Your buttocks rose and fell to the rhythm of your breathing, tightening and relaxing as I stared. I then became aware of a low, buzzing noise, and as I walked closer, I saw that you had a vibrator inside your pussy. You removed it and without looking at me, placed it in your mouth and licked your own sweet river from it.

“Stephen, is this a turn-on for you?”

I didn’t need to answer. It was a rhetorical question. With that confident deliberation of a woman who knew exactly what she needed, you ran the vibrator over your nipples and then pushed it deeply into your pussy again, your dry sighs in this quiet room contrasting beautifully with the liquid lullaby that was humming from your pubic hair. I was transfixed by this extraordinary vision of eroticism. Heart-held Julie, on a bed, totally absorbed in the moment of her own orgasm, riding the waves of her passion as she began to flow her river of rapture; a feast that I wanted so much to taste again. And when you came, it was a diamond moment; hips and peaches and arching back all undulated as you surrendered to your release. It was only then that I realised that I had been unconsciously stroking my cock, a notion that almost made me laugh as that activity had, in the past, always been deliberate.

With my cock now fully erect, I walked to the bed and slid my hand down your glistening back.

“Lift up, Julie… raise your hips.”

You dropped the vibrator onto the carpet, eased yourself up just a little and spread your buttocks.

“Yes,” I said. “Show me your secret.”

Two fingers then spread your beautiful small cave. “Like this?” you asked.

“Yes honey, just like that. Show me where I’m going to fuck you first.”

“Stephen, yes… fuck me here ... between my cheeks… is that what you want?”

“I want all of you,” I replied, stroking your delicious opening with my finger. I then offered it to you and you sucked slowly. When it was fully moistened, I slid it into your ass and watched as you fucked my finger. “Julie, I’m going to fuck you now… fuck you in the ass… with my cock. Do you want that?”

“Yes. I want that.”

“How much do you want it?”

“I want your cock in my hole, Stephen.”

“When do you want it?”

The teasing was exquisite foreplay. Desire as dialogue; increasing the tension; prolonging our torture.

“Fuck me now, Stephen. I want to feel you, inch by inch, sliding into me. Now.”

“Wet your hand with your juice, honey. Make my cock slippery.”

“Mmmm,” you sighed as your long, soft fingers reached out and encircled my cock. I then felt the warm tingle of your pussy-milk being applied to the shaft and before I could gather my highly charged thoughts, you guided the head to the small opening between your cheeks.

“This is my first time, Stephen, so push in gently. Now further. Yes, that’s it. Now fuck me. I want it all. I want to feel your balls slapping on my thighs.”

Gradually a rhythm began to build, like some pagan dance, and we fucked in unison, my cock thick in your ass, your pussy tingling as my fingers sang on your clitoris. You came twice, each time loudly and musically. And each time you came, my cock felt the pulse that surged through you.

“Don’t you cum, Stephen.” you said. “Not yet anyway. I want to fuck you properly first and then I want to give you something special; something you’ll remember for a very long time.” The promise in your voice left me in no doubt that I would.

Reaching behind, you took hold of the base of my buried cock and eased it out. Like a wave in the ocean of our joy, you rolled over and opened your legs.

“This is yours, Stephen… take my pussy and play me… tease me… taste me… fuck me.”

Another verbal lightning bolt, and this one went straight to the head of my cock, down the shaft and reverberated against my balls.

And of course I did... the length of my penis found the walls of your pussy and slid in so easily. Piston pumps were returned with arching actions as we rode each other’s sex. My mouth covered your nipples; licked and sucked and washed; my cock filled your pussy; slick and quick were the thrusts as you held my balls and then inserted a finger into my asshole. Sensing that I was about to explode a waterfall of whiteness, you grabbed the base of my cock and squeezed hard. Instantly, my orgasm subsided. This procedure was repeated at least five times. I would thrust my length in and out, you would massage my balls and my asshole, stroke my slippery head with your thumb, reinsert my cock inside your pussy and thrust back against my thighs and stomach. And when I said that I was about to cum, you held my cock tightly and lay perfectly still. It was torture but well worth it.

“Do you want to cum now?” you finally asked.

I was almost speechless with anticipation and you knew it. You knew just the right moment, Julie.

“All right, Stephen, I want you to cum for me. But not like this. Sit on the edge of the bed.”

When I was seated as you’d suggested, you knelt between my legs, held my cock in your hand and kissed the head. Then you licked it; from my balls to the top again.

“Roll over.”

I rolled and took a deep breath as I felt your tongue between the cheeks of my ass. Without the slightest inhibition, you licked my hole, probing the opening with your tongue, your hand massaging my swollen balls.

“Stephen… sit up again. You’re going to cum now.”

And then you began. The fantastic fellatio of a woman of supreme knowledge. Your tongue toyed at the opening on my cock-head, sipping the juice that was already starting to flow. Up and down went your head, your mouth filling and emptying as my cock slid in and out. Slowly; quickly; slurping and sucking and singing were your lips as you fucked me with your beautiful mouth. And while you were sucking me, your hand was between your legs, masturbating till your own nectar began to drip onto my foot. As soon as I felt the warm liquid from your pussy, I knew I was about to cum. So did you, so you quickened your movement over my cock. It was a volcanic moment; I ejaculated stream after white stream into your mouth as you sucked and

pulled and massaged. Finally I subsided, and it was then that you fulfilled the promise you’d made earlier. You simply smiled up at me, took my hand and placed it on the side of your swan-white throat. I watched and waited and then it happened. You swallowed, and I felt your throat ripple as my cum slid down. This was the most fantastic experience. I actually saw and felt my cum being swallowed by an exquisite woman.

We made love again that night; not with the same urgency, but with exactly the same passion. I came between your breasts and in your hair and both the bed and sofa were in desperate need of not only spring-cleaning but also re-springing.

And when we finally slept, dormiamo in la bella citta, it was in each other’s arms. This was our place of peace… our safe country… our home.