Long ago, during the 13th century when the Inquisition flourished and women wore no underpants, free spirit Juliana Spree encountered a Wizard who turned her into stone. Turning her stone skin back to flesh required a kiss before the end of the 800th year. If not, she'd die in her stone public grave. Her crimes: loving a man below her rank, loving a man outside of marriage, and selling secret love potions to girls following the Troubadour bands parading through France, Spain, and Northern Italy. The bands escaped to Kobenhaven's forest when the Inquirers inquired or the local folk became too prudish. In the forest, Juliana, an excellent song poet, fell madly for the most ardent word-lover Troubadour, Count Shaftpenhead.
Singing in defiance to the Wizard:
"I earn my own keep.
I do not loose sleep.
A contract-husband?
I'll take a man I love,
Over a man paper-deep."
"Your parents asks me to spare your life and stone hard, hard as your heart I turn thee."
In fire flicker time, Juliana, and her party gals became solid stone. But Juliana could think for the Wizard allowed her that much.
Eight hundred years later, Georgie, a handsome dark haired professor with long and wide mustache that tickled quivering thighs under many ladies' skirts, broke up with his wife, Julie.
Julie balked at their first-time orgy. She surprised Georgioe. Over five years, male students have mistaken Julie for a university graduate student. Her buxom 120-lb, 34C-25-34, and shoulder length blonde caught many males off guard. Her 6-foot height intimated most men. Her experience modeling showed itself in her elegant walk and even crossing her legs because a spectator sport of the young men on campus. Georgieo's agreeable manner brought her from her native Italy to Copenhagen to become his wife.
"I don't fuck in public for others, Georgieo."
"Fucking for the public, dear?"
"Private threesome's crown my fucking limits."
"Were teaching them how to make love."
"Gio, hmm, Isn't that what they call you?"
"I like the name."
"It's a teenager's name . . . for your teenage midlife crises."
"I'm staying."
"My vertical smile and I are leaving. If you don't come along -- Gio!"
The shock destroyed Gio. Julie demonstrated a thousand years of female culture, class. She'd fuck any time on campus or off. Her smoothed waxed pussy stayed wet for him. She made it easy for him to respect her the morning after.
Gio went into a slump. He didn't remember teaching his classes or grading assignments. The precise answers to questions surfaced from memory. When pretty young girls gave their panty parades, pushing their mini-jean skirts up by spreading their legs, he doubted the meaning of it all. Normally, he got off on the mixture of coy conservative bright blue and white-stripped blouses with assort panty colors the girls revealed. His sexual enthusiasm vanished. Julie's gravity principles brought him earthbound. He didn't want a divorce. But, Julie's lawyer served the papers two weeks ago.
He frequented Copenhagen Park full of tall oaks, ferns, roses and daffodils and stone lady statues. The lady statues in various undress states provided him peace. The one nearest his favorite bench named, Juliana, sun bathed for more about 800 years, if the legends were true.
Juliana heard the sorrow shown in his watery-eyes. She and he suffered for the same sexual kindness. Of course, even a first level esoteric student knows you cannot put foreign thoughts in another's mind, she reminded herself. They must be inclined in that direction already. For years, though Gio sat next to her every day. He must like me on some level.
Juliana desired to soothe him with her naked breasts and heartbeats. Let him smell her hand-made perfume. Her slow tight, turning hands provide wrists bracelets music clink . . . clink . . .clink as she stimulated Gio's mind-blowing blowjob.
Already my oiled vial of pleasure make it easier to spread my groin wide, to the limit--if I were human that is. She thanked the Wizard for her legs parted--in the mid-stride. The walking joy always stimulated her sexually. It relieved the tension too. How the simplest things provided sex arousal and are taken for granted by these girls, Juliana observed. At least the girls wear fewer clothes now. My fondest pleasure be to walk in a sundress with nothing underneath. And for my favorite man, Gio, stand in front of the sunlight. Feeling the hardness of a engorged male dick inside her divine crack after 800 years, she imagined all too well, all too often.
She watched Gio shoo away marriage-bunnies, cheerleaders, sorority girls for thirty minutes while he lunchtime languished. Juliana's blue eyes noticed how attractive his sensitive face, the length his left-sided flaccid cock. These impressed her. She remembered the days when the Count Shaftpenhead played his erotic songs around the forest fire far away from the Inquisition and snooping parents.
"Play another one, Count Shaftpenhead." The crowd laughed. "Let's see your fair redhaired Juliana dance her silk blue scarf once more."
"A tune of love lost and regain?" The Count tuned his tiny guitar as he improvised loin lyrics.
"Is the Count as good under he sheets as they say, Juliana?" Satin asked.
"Aye. Much better. Watch how I make his fire rise, Satin? He won't finish his siren song."
Juliana wrapped a blue long scarf around her head. Her ankle length skirt lost its red blouse familiar as Juliana turned east and west, extenuating the curve of her wide hips. Her white skin blinked like an eye between the black corset and white skirt. Her belly twinkled a red ruby. She stepped closer and backward; hips moved in and out, her chest thrust left, then right. Her B cup breasts waves between the air and her corset. Her scarf a toy flowing about her body. Juliana looked very wet from the darting lights of the campfire and her glistening sweat skin. Juliana steamy performance made the place hotter. Over her breasts, down her mons, past her calves to her ankles, she maneuvered the scarf. She raised the long skirt with the blue scarf trailing. Up under her legs the scarf went and out again, and trailed up the trouser bulge and chest and under the Count's nose
"A woman bathing. Mmmmmm," sang Count Shaftpenhead. Juliana turned around and let the cloth drip down her neck and back and buttocks. Juliana drew the mind toward Aphrodite rising from Gia's Earth Waters. Juliana's 118 lb 5' 8" frame made the corset prettier. Juliana's pebble cherry nipples ready for picking by the strong lyrical lips and callused fingers of Shaftpenhead.
He played on; shaking his head as Juliana flung off her sandals, and whirled closer and further until at last everyone felt urgent needs. She put her red painted fingers in her mouth, first one, then another, sliding in and out. He wanted her. He wanted to impale her hard where her softness sought it most. "Go on. Come here, sweet Juliana," he managed to weave into the song.
