My dear reader, this is a fantasy, a pornographic story without any connection to reality. Well, except the fact that Julia is based on the British glamour model (Not the actress) Kelly Andrews. She's real, unattainable, but real.
If massive cocks, cervix pounding sex, and screaming orgasms annoy you, then you should stop reading this story right now.
In fact, you should stop reading my stories altogether.
English is not my language. I'm trying to find an editor, but they seemed to be damn good at hiding.
Anyway, I'm writing these stories for fun, and since I don't get any profit, I see no reason to do extensive research or base anything of it to the reality we live in. BTW, later in this story, there will be things happening that, most likely, are physiologically impossible but are crucial for the plotline.
Oh, lastly, even though the place where Max fucks Julia is located only in my imagination, Park Güell is very real. If you find yourself from Spain, I recommend that you visit Park Güell in Barcelona. It is a much more wondrous place than anything Disney Company has built or even imagined building.
THIS STORY INCLUDES MATERIAL THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18-YEARS-OLD OR OLDER AND CONSENTING ADULTS.
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The barber finished sweeping hairs off Max's shoulders and took off the cloth around his neck before showing the back of his head in the mirror. "Do you like it, Mister?" he asked.
Max looked in the mirror, he had to admit that the closely shaved sides and top trim haircut looked good, and it would be easy to maintain. But now the gray in his hairs made him look even older than his years. "It looks good, but I'm not sure if I like it," he said, scratching his jaw, which was a habit he'd created after he'd given up Jill's pestering, and had grown a beard. To his surprise, it had come out gray, almost white.
"It looks great. Gray temples and beard bring out the older man's charm that you have in your mannerism." Julia said. "You are a charming gentleman. Now, women will see that charm, and they will love it. Trust me on that."
Max sighed deeply. "Okay." He had learned that it was useless to argue with Julia when she got something in her mind. She'd just pester him until he eventually would give up., and he always did give up. The young woman was a force of nature. As he looked at the gorgeous young woman, Max had no idea how he had become so lucky that she wanted to date him even if their relationship had a due date. Still, he was going to take everything out of it while it lasted.
"Stop thinking that you're not good enough for me," Julia said as if reading his mind. "Max, do you know the hot teacher fantasy some boys have?"
"Sure," Max replied.
"Well, girls have that fantasy too, but it is about the hot professor, and now you look like a hot professor. It is a good look for you."
Max sighed, looking at the barber. "If she thinks it is a good style of me, then I guess I like it too," he said.
"Very good, Sir," The amused barber said. "Your wife is right, that style becomes you."
A smile crawled to Max's lips. It amused him that the barber thought that a young and sexy woman like Julia was his wife. "I hate to admit it, but Julia does know these things."
Julia grinned. "Good that you're finally admitting that. Now, pay the man, he did a great job. We have to hurry; we're going to have dinner with Natasha."
"It'll be a pleasure to meet your best friend," Max said.
"Uh-huh, she'll love you," Julia said.
When they got out of the barbershop, Julia told him that the restaurant where they were to meet Natasha was just around the corner. They walked instead of taking a cab. As always, people turned to look at them walking arm-in-arm.
Max couldn't blame them; the gorgeous woman in his arm wasn't even half of his age. Since Julia didn't seem to be afraid of being seen in public with him, Max had learned that most people thought that Julia was his trophy wife. That bothered him a bit, but it didn't seem to bother Julia at all. In fact, sometimes, Max was sure that she enjoyed playing his trophy wife.
When they got to the restaurant, the head waiter guided them to a corner table. Max's jaw dropped when he saw the small redhead woman sitting at the table. "You're Natasha Berezovsky!" he said. "The Prima Ballerina!"
The woman smiled. "I'm retired," she said.
"Yes, but you still dance with several dance companies, and you are acting, and you do a lot of choreography for big stars and dance productions."
Her smile got wider, "You are my fan, Dr. Michaelsson, aren't you?"
"Max," Max said. "I mean, you can call me Max, I... God, I've... Uh... I'm ...um, yeah, I'm a big fan of yours."
"I'm pleased to hear that, Max, please, sit down. People are looking at us," Natasha said.
Max glanced around and blushed when he realized that people were staring at him. He quickly sat down beside Julia. "Uh, hi?" he said, giving Natasha a shy smile.
Natasha giggled. "Hi," she said as the hors d'oeuvre was served. "so, what do you think was my best performance?"
After the first few awkward minutes, Max started to feel as if he'd known Natasha forever. Which, in a warped kind of way, he had. Fifteen years he'd been Natasha's fan, and he'd seen her grow up on stage. During the meal, all three of them had fun, and hours later, Max somehow found himself from a nightclub.
"You love her, don't you?" Natasha asked as they were watching Julia dancing with a tall blond man that reminded a lot of the actor who played Thor.
