‘Oh yes, Robbie my love’, thought Julia. ‘You’re going to learn to love that smell.’
PART TWO: THE NEW JULIA GOES TO WORK
Everyone at Julia’s workplace noticed the way Julia had slyly gotten around the company’s silly dress code. A few of the women expressed their eagerness to do something similar themselves. The men gave her a mixture of admiring glances, approving compliments, rude stares, and even ruder requests for quickies in the stockroom. She basked all day in the unusual and (mostly) welcome attention she was getting. She wondered what her friends might have thought if they could see what she had on underneath ‘the company uniform’.
When she got home after work, Julia started to change into the casual around-home clothes she usually relaxed in, a T-shirt and jeans, but she wanted to avoid falling back into the rut of her ‘old’ lifestyle.
To start with, she chose a stretch T-shirt and a pair of very tight jeans. She hadn’t worn either of them in some time, partly because they were a bit too sexy for everyday use and partly because they revealed the little flaws that were starting to show in her maturing body. But now she wanted to flaunt her generous curves, and to draw attention to her newly rejuvenated and proud sexuality.
She wore a thong panty under the jeans, and went bra-less under the shirt as a sort of experiment.
She usually wore jogging shoes around home, but they just wouldn’t do now. High-heeled shoes would look out of place, she thought. But what if she wore boots? They’d be almost entirely hidden under the jeans legs, but they’d still enhance the movements of her lower body nicely while still keeping her casual look. She tried them on.
She checked herself out in the mirror again. The effect was just what she wanted.
She put her hands on her shirtfront and cupped the swells of her breasts. She lifted them gently upward, and then forward, and then slightly apart, and then closer together, and finally she decided that they looked and felt just fine without the added support of a brassiere.
The jeans were perfect. They flared out boldly from Julia’s waist to her hips, flowed smoothly over the gentle rounding of her belly, and were utterly skintight over the generous curves of her buttocks and upper thighs. They were so tight that they revealed everything — the crease between the cheeks of her ass, the separation between her legs at her crotch, even the twin bulges of her camel’s toe pussy lips which framed the entrance to what her ex called her ‘honey pot’.
Admiring herself in the mirror was turning Julia on. Just studying the way her nipples poked out at the tightly stretched fabric of the T-shirt made them tingle a little, and she felt the need to press them and roll them playfully between her fingers.
“Oh, Robbie!” she gasped, imagining that it was her son’s hands there and practicing her feigned surprise at his boldly intimate caress.
She ran her hands slowly and teasingly over her jeans, never taking her eyes from her reflection in the mirror. Through the denim she squeezed the flesh that jutted back from where the top of her legs met the underside of her ass cheeks. She gave her bottom cheeks a slap or two to reassure herself that they could still bounce and shiver without appearing flabby. She moved her hands down both sides of her belly, bringing them together as she reached her pussy bulge. She rubbed the mound a little, and cupped its fullness down between her legs.