One Memory of Julie

It's been many years since I've seen Julie. On occasion we write; less frequently we call each other. Having grown up as neighbors and friends, we still have a great fondness for each other and probably always will. I have so many good memories of our times together that I could spend days pleasantly paging through them. One of them stands out more than the rest.

It was Thursday, the third day of Julie's three week visit from the west coast. Julie and my mother and I had spent the better part of the day not buying any of the clothes we looked at. As we left the shopping center and headed home, my mother asked what we would like to do that evening since she and my father were going to Boston. Since Thursday was half-price at the new video store we decided to get a couple movies and have pizza and popcorn.

Julie and I both love mushroom pizza so my father picked up a large one on his way home from work. Dropping it on the kitchen table as he came in, he headed upstairs to change while we fed our faces.

I love mushroom pizza but I'm a light eater. Julie, on the other hand, eats like a horse and a pig at the same time. She had finished four pieces and I was still working on my second when my parents came down on their way out. A quick kiss from each of them for me, and well wishes for a nice evening for both of us and they were gone.

My last bite filled me up, and after putting the leftover couple of pieces in the fridge we went to the living room to watch Don Knotts in his Shakiest Gun movie.

Now, I love comedies but after fifteen minutes I realized I just wasn't in the comedy mood. I found my mind wandering but thought I'd just tough it out through the rest of the movie so Julie could enjoy it. But then I noticed she didn't have her mind or attention on the movie either.

"Hey Julie."

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't look like you're interested in this now either."

"Nope."

"You want to find something else to do?"

"Sure. Something quieter."

"Anything in mind?"

"Yeah, I'd like to hear you play."

"Really?"

"Of course. The last time I heard you -- other than over the phone -- was when we were five."

"All right," I said, let's go upstairs."

I had been playing violin for a long time. I loved it, and I still do. I love the sound and I love being able to make my own music. And I've been fortunate to have good teachers; they've helped me to relax and taught me how to be both gentle and forceful.

On the way to my room I asked, "Do you have any requests?"

"Anything peaceful."

"Good, I'm in that mood, too."

I got out my book of favorite pieces, setup my stand, got my violin, readied my bow, and tuned up. Julie laid down on my bed, propped herself up on my eight pillows, and waited for me to start.

The whole time I played we didn't talk. I knew Julie enjoyed it because I could see it on her face. I saw her dreamy expressions when she would close her eyes during certain passages. It seemed to me that she was feeling the music as I have so often felt it.

After about a dozen pieces she extended her arms to me and half said, half whispered, "Come cuddle with me."

At first I thought she had meant it sexually and then I wasn't sure. There was just a moment of confusion on my part but a number of thoughts quickly ran through my head. I had done sexual things with my mother but never with any other girl; the idea had intrigued me at times but I hadn't had any urge to look for it myself. I also thought that I might be reading too much into what she had said, or maybe I was just hoping. We have always been very close. We have always hugged and touched each other very easily and naturally and casually. Of course that was when we were very much younger, but I still felt that we were really close. As soon as I felt my wetness I admitted to myself that I wanted her to have meant sex.

I put my violin and bow on the dresser, turned off my stand light, went to the bed. As I had been approaching the bed -- and her, of course -- she had opened her arms to receive me, so as I laid down I really ended up in her arms. She hugged me and said, "You're the best. Thanks for playing. It was so nice." We were laying side-by-side, knees touching, eye-to-eye.

I still didn't know for sure if she wanted to "do it" but I knew that if she did, I was willing. "I'm glad you're here, Julie."

"So am I."

And then there was quite a pause. We stared into each other's eyes, and we smiled at each other. As we looked at each other I imagined her thinking the same things that I was thinking. I remembered the times we spent swinging each other or playing teeter-totter or jacks or jump-rope. I remembered the few times we spoke on the phone. Her letters came to mind.

"Jennifer?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to try kissing?"

"We always kiss."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know."

Without closing our eyes we brought our lips together. Keeping our mouths closed we just felt the softness of our lips. I made a conscious effort to hold her firmly on her waist and pull her very gently to me just as she was pulling me gently to her. We sort of guided each other -- to each other.

While our lips were together we settled in to a very comfortable breathing and began to caress each other's waist - slowly - in just a very small area. We were still looking into each other's eyes. We stopped kissing for just a moment, and then brought our lips back together, but this time we found each other's tongues and closed our eyes. I was very wet.

"Julie, do you want to get naked?"

She didn't say anything but rolled to her back and began to remove her clothes. I rolled onto my hands and knees and leaned over her so I could keep our mouths together. When her breasts were free I massaged them. Her nipples were hard. Neither of us shave but she had far more hair than I did. She had so much hair I could not see all of my fingers as they glided through. But I easily felt her wetness and that made me more wet myself.

I pulled her over onto me so we could continue kissing as I undressed. I took my top off first because I wanted her hands on my breasts right away but I could tell she was waiting to feel if I was wet. Her eyes were waiting for my skirt and panties to be gone.

As soon as I had my panties off she asked, "Can I eat you?"

I answered her by pulling her head down to my nipple and spreading my legs so she could get in position. My mother and I have never eaten each other out so this was to be new. I expected a lot and was not disappointed. She took my breasts in her hands and my nipples in her fingers as she slid her head down to eat me. And the first thing she did was to put her tongue inside me as far as she could. Then she came out and began to massage my clit. I had looked forward to getting eaten and here it was. I couldn't help but to gyrate my hips slowly and push myself into her mouth. I found that there was a rhythm that was perfect and it started bringing me up and up. That rhythm was not the same as when I masturbated. It was slower. I held onto her head and pushed her into me.

Then she took one hand from my breast and put a finger in me. She continued to lick me on the outside while she was fingering me on the inside. It wasn't long before I was humping up and down having a very extended orgasm.

She came up and kissed me again. "Do you want to eat me now?"

"Yeah."

But she pulled out lips together first so we kissed. French kissed. Very deep and very gentle. I was laying on top of her with as much of our skin touching as possible. It was so different than with my mother. Julie has long hair; very long and very dark. We would roll over each other as we kissed and our hair would wash over our faces like feathers.

"Julie, have you ever done this before?"

"Yeah. Six months ago was the first time. And the second time was the day before I called you to ask if I could come visit."

"I'm really glad you came," I said. And then I went down on her. I was nervous at first but also very excited. I remember very well wanting to do it right. I wanted to please her. I wanted it to be good for her. I didn't want to disappoint or frustrate her.

She used her hands to part her hair and her lips for me. And she started rubbing herself gently with one finger. I watched. When she took her finger away I licked her there.

"Stick a finger in me," she said, "and keep licking me just like that."

So I did. I felt her hands on my head. Sometimes she would press my mouth onto her really hard and sometimes she would pull away and have me barely touching her. When I would try to speed up because I thought she would like it, she would have me slow back down. She like this one speed.

Julie would move her hips around in circles and all the while hold my head so I could keep licking her just like she wanted. She would say things like "Nice, nice, oh yeah" with each word said as I would lick on an upstroke.

After about ten or fifteen minutes she said "I'm going to come very soon Jennifer; don't stop; keep going." And she took her hands from my head and began massaging her breasts; pinching her nipples; moaning; telling me to keep going.

I was holding her hips in my hands. I could pull her tighter to my mouth. I could "hold on" as she began to move faster. She began to hump herself into the air. She didn't need to say anything; the orgasm was obvious. And for the next couple of minutes she humped up and down while I did my best to keep my tongue either to her clit or sticking inside her.

It was only another minute and she lay still; exhausted. I found my way up to her, laid beside her, and cuddled.

We were quiet with each other as we lay like that for about an hour and then got up and dressed so we could be downstairs when my parents came home.

That was on the third day of her three week visit. Can you imagine what the next two weeks plus were like? (You're probably right.)