Lady Livia - One: Julius (Revised)
There was a museum nearby. It was one of her favorites, but it was also one of Cassius’s favorites, and they would go together to view the exhibits, hold hands, and kiss. Now, she could only stand to sit idly outside the opulent building, thinking of him and pining for the life they could have had together. But now there was this new man who had appeared, in similar countenance and stature as Cassius, but different. This man’s eyes didn’t seem to be laden with the dark intensity of Cassius: they were lighter, more accessible, less bound with the weight of the world.
“Would you like to accompany me to the museum? I was headed that way. If you would like to join me, I’d be honored,” Julius offered, standing up slowly and straightening his black suit and red shirt.
“I’d love to, but…” Livia started but pulled back.
“What is it?”
“My husband is a very jealous man. I don’t know what he would think if he found out I was being escorted about town with another man…”
“It is harmless, no? Just a walk in the museum. It might cheer you up!” He offered his hand.
Livia smiled and, hesitantly, took his hand, smiling shyly.
At the museum, among the silent witnesses of centuries-old canvases and sculptures that had outlived their creators, Livia moved like a shade amongst shadows. She was there but not present, her mind a canvas of its own, painted with hues of boredom and a longing for a life less ordinary. The gallery quickly became a sanctuary where she could masquerade as a lover of the arts while seeking respite from her gilded cage.
Julius was a man whose aura was painted in stark contrast to the muted tones around him. His presence was a vibrant splash of color in Livia's gray world. He was everything her environment wasn’t—alive, dynamic, and unapologetically present. His eyes held stories of rebellion, adventure, and passion, and they spoke to her in a language she had long forgotten but was once fluent in. He was unlike the exhibits that surrounded them. He was alive, vital, potent.
At that moment, a desperate craving overtook Livia, a yearning for intimacy only Julius could awaken within her. Her cock was getting hard, and she had a difficult time not reaching for it and touching it. Her panties and dress moved against her sensitive cock as they walked, and it only made it worse. Her heart was fluttering uncontrollably.
They had been silent most of the way there. Once they entered the museum, their conversation began as a polite exchange over the merits of an exceptionally provocative piece of art—a Renaissance painting depicting Leda and the Swan, a mythological portrayal of seduction and surrender. Yet, with each word, the subtext grew richer, heavier, and charged with an electric current that ran beneath the surface of their words. It was a verbal waltz, each step bringing them closer to the edge of decency. Julius described what he saw, and all the while, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled Livia close to him. Her hands found their way around his waist, and they felt each other’s heat emanating.
Julius’s commentary on the artwork was a thinly veiled metaphor for the dance of courtship and the following carnal union. His words were deliberate, chosen for their dual meanings—their ability to convey appreciation for the art while suggesting a more intimate appreciation for the interplay between power and surrender in his life.
For Livia, the conversation was a gust of wind that stirred the dormant leaves of her restless desires. Julius spoke of the surrender in the painting with a reverence that made her skin prickle with awareness. It was a reverence that extended beyond the canvas and seemed to envelop her, inviting her to explore the depths of her yearning for surrender. This experience transcended the physical and touched the divine.
As the gallery’s ambient sounds faded into a distant murmur, their dialogue became the only tangible thing in the room. Livia felt the weight of her breath, the slow rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth of her blood coursing through her veins with a vigor that seemed foreign in her usual state of composure.
In Julius's gaze, she felt seen—not as Lucius's perfect, poised wife, but as Livia, the woman with fire coursing through her veins, with a storm waiting to be unleashed. He offered no judgment, only an acknowledgment of her existence as a being of passion and vitality.
This recognition fanned the embers of her discontent into a blaze. Livia, who had been content to play the role of observer in her own life, felt the stirrings of a protagonist. With his piercing insight and unspoken invitations, Julius offered her a script filled with lines she had just uttered.
A little way off, Julius spotted a door ajar with only darkness emanating from it. It was an unoccupied portion of the museum. “Just a moment,” he told Livia, who was lost in thought, looking at a painting, thinking about her and her husband, and thinking dreadful, inappropriate thoughts about Julius. She watched Julius go to the door and look inside, then he turned and smiled, beckoning her towards him. She went, and they entered a darkened exhibit of angelic sculptures.
“So beautiful!” Livia said, looking all around her at the sculptures. It was then that Julius took her by the waist and kissed her. She kissed back passionately, and she felt for his cock in his trousers. It was already hard, and she lowered to her knees. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his giant cock. She sucked on it for a long time, reveling in it, savoring it. She could barely get Julius’ cock down her throat. He moaned in ecstasy, grabbing her head and thrusting his cock into her mouth, more passionately and faster as she sucked vigorously.
Livia reached under her dress and started to stroke her tiny cock slowly while the other hand was stroking Julius. The excitement was too much to bear, and as Livia stroked, she couldn’t contain herself. Livia’s moan was muffled by Julius’ cock in her mouth, but as she came, she shot come onto the marble floor. At the same time, Julius shot his hot load down Livia’s throat, which she willingly and pleadingly sought after.
Livia stood up and started wiping her mouth, but Julius stopped, and French kissed her. Then: “I wanted to taste my lust for you in my mouth,” he said while nibbling on her ear and stroking her sensitive cock. She began to start breathing hard again, and Julius noticed her excitement. He stroked her small cock a little faster, held her a little closer, and not too long later, the orgasm welled up in Livia's lions, and she came down her leg, an even more powerful orgasm than before.
Julius looked into her eyes. She was in a sensory haze. “I must leave you know, but I will see you again. Use this in a week. Ask for me: Julius.” And he kissed her again and left a card in her hands. It was a simple, black card on one side and a phone number on the other. That was it. Julius left, and she stood in the darkened exhibit hall again, looking at the card, filled with intrigue.
“Would you like to accompany me to the museum? I was headed that way. If you would like to join me, I’d be honored,” Julius offered, standing up slowly and straightening his black suit and red shirt.
“I’d love to, but…” Livia started but pulled back.
“What is it?”
“My husband is a very jealous man. I don’t know what he would think if he found out I was being escorted about town with another man…”
“It is harmless, no? Just a walk in the museum. It might cheer you up!” He offered his hand.
Livia smiled and, hesitantly, took his hand, smiling shyly.
At the museum, among the silent witnesses of centuries-old canvases and sculptures that had outlived their creators, Livia moved like a shade amongst shadows. She was there but not present, her mind a canvas of its own, painted with hues of boredom and a longing for a life less ordinary. The gallery quickly became a sanctuary where she could masquerade as a lover of the arts while seeking respite from her gilded cage.
Julius was a man whose aura was painted in stark contrast to the muted tones around him. His presence was a vibrant splash of color in Livia's gray world. He was everything her environment wasn’t—alive, dynamic, and unapologetically present. His eyes held stories of rebellion, adventure, and passion, and they spoke to her in a language she had long forgotten but was once fluent in. He was unlike the exhibits that surrounded them. He was alive, vital, potent.
At that moment, a desperate craving overtook Livia, a yearning for intimacy only Julius could awaken within her. Her cock was getting hard, and she had a difficult time not reaching for it and touching it. Her panties and dress moved against her sensitive cock as they walked, and it only made it worse. Her heart was fluttering uncontrollably.
They had been silent most of the way there. Once they entered the museum, their conversation began as a polite exchange over the merits of an exceptionally provocative piece of art—a Renaissance painting depicting Leda and the Swan, a mythological portrayal of seduction and surrender. Yet, with each word, the subtext grew richer, heavier, and charged with an electric current that ran beneath the surface of their words. It was a verbal waltz, each step bringing them closer to the edge of decency. Julius described what he saw, and all the while, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled Livia close to him. Her hands found their way around his waist, and they felt each other’s heat emanating.
Julius’s commentary on the artwork was a thinly veiled metaphor for the dance of courtship and the following carnal union. His words were deliberate, chosen for their dual meanings—their ability to convey appreciation for the art while suggesting a more intimate appreciation for the interplay between power and surrender in his life.
For Livia, the conversation was a gust of wind that stirred the dormant leaves of her restless desires. Julius spoke of the surrender in the painting with a reverence that made her skin prickle with awareness. It was a reverence that extended beyond the canvas and seemed to envelop her, inviting her to explore the depths of her yearning for surrender. This experience transcended the physical and touched the divine.
As the gallery’s ambient sounds faded into a distant murmur, their dialogue became the only tangible thing in the room. Livia felt the weight of her breath, the slow rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth of her blood coursing through her veins with a vigor that seemed foreign in her usual state of composure.
In Julius's gaze, she felt seen—not as Lucius's perfect, poised wife, but as Livia, the woman with fire coursing through her veins, with a storm waiting to be unleashed. He offered no judgment, only an acknowledgment of her existence as a being of passion and vitality.
This recognition fanned the embers of her discontent into a blaze. Livia, who had been content to play the role of observer in her own life, felt the stirrings of a protagonist. With his piercing insight and unspoken invitations, Julius offered her a script filled with lines she had just uttered.
A little way off, Julius spotted a door ajar with only darkness emanating from it. It was an unoccupied portion of the museum. “Just a moment,” he told Livia, who was lost in thought, looking at a painting, thinking about her and her husband, and thinking dreadful, inappropriate thoughts about Julius. She watched Julius go to the door and look inside, then he turned and smiled, beckoning her towards him. She went, and they entered a darkened exhibit of angelic sculptures.
“So beautiful!” Livia said, looking all around her at the sculptures. It was then that Julius took her by the waist and kissed her. She kissed back passionately, and she felt for his cock in his trousers. It was already hard, and she lowered to her knees. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his giant cock. She sucked on it for a long time, reveling in it, savoring it. She could barely get Julius’ cock down her throat. He moaned in ecstasy, grabbing her head and thrusting his cock into her mouth, more passionately and faster as she sucked vigorously.
Livia reached under her dress and started to stroke her tiny cock slowly while the other hand was stroking Julius. The excitement was too much to bear, and as Livia stroked, she couldn’t contain herself. Livia’s moan was muffled by Julius’ cock in her mouth, but as she came, she shot come onto the marble floor. At the same time, Julius shot his hot load down Livia’s throat, which she willingly and pleadingly sought after.
Livia stood up and started wiping her mouth, but Julius stopped, and French kissed her. Then: “I wanted to taste my lust for you in my mouth,” he said while nibbling on her ear and stroking her sensitive cock. She began to start breathing hard again, and Julius noticed her excitement. He stroked her small cock a little faster, held her a little closer, and not too long later, the orgasm welled up in Livia's lions, and she came down her leg, an even more powerful orgasm than before.
Julius looked into her eyes. She was in a sensory haze. “I must leave you know, but I will see you again. Use this in a week. Ask for me: Julius.” And he kissed her again and left a card in her hands. It was a simple, black card on one side and a phone number on the other. That was it. Julius left, and she stood in the darkened exhibit hall again, looking at the card, filled with intrigue.
1 年 前
