Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2

... while Belinda and Andrew discovered after a rushed conversation that they would rather catch a taxi to Andrew’s house than come back to ours. I sensed that I was being given space. As we turned to walk up my street, images from a thousand teenage movies flashed through my mind’s eye: the kiss at the end of the date. But we hadn’t been on a date, we just met there; would I get my kiss? Heart pounding, I stopped in front of the gate to our building. “What?” Kevin looked around. “Why are you stopping?” “This is me,” I said pointing to the gate. “We’re home.” “Oh,” he said, obviously taken aback. “I was hoping it would take longer.” “But why?” I laughed. “Because if I had a bit more time,” he began sombrely, “then I think I might have had the courage to hold your hand.” Oh goodness, the blood rush! I could see how people get addicted to this feeling. “It’s a nice night,” I said quietly. “We could walk around the block.” “Could we?” he asked with cautious hope in his voice. “Mm-hm!” I smiled. “But first you need to tell me something, because I can’t wait until we get back to find out.” “Anything.” He cocked his head, curious about my question. “Are you going to …” I swallowed. “Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” The alcohol was doing its job; we were both saying things that we wouldn’t normally say. “Oh great,” he rolled his eyes and smiled, breaking some of the tension. “Now I’m not going to be able to enjoy the walk because I’ll be obsessing about the kiss.” “Well,” I said ...

... softly, taking half a step closer so that our bodies were touching. “If you kiss me now and make it a bad one, then you can relax knowing you’ll do a lot better when we get back. “That’s actually a pretty good idea,” he said quite seriously. I put both hands around his waist and stood with our tummies touching. Leaning back a little, I turned my face up to his and looked into his eyes, just a couple of inches above my own. He closed his arms around my body and held me gently to his chest, my small breasts cushioning our light embrace. He turned his head slightly to the right so that we didn’t bump noses. “Remember to make it a bad one,” I husked. I swallowed nervously as his lips touched mine and forgot to kiss. Noooo! God, I was late to my first kiss! I felt the warm puff of his halting breath as he closed on my lower lip and then heard the tiny smack of his kiss as he pulled fractionally away. Desperately, I opened my mouth and chased after him, catching most of his upper lip between mine, pressing harder and closing down a little bit wetter than he had done before pulling away, agonisingly slow, with a moist smack from both of us. “Was that bad enough?” he whispered. “It was terrible,” I mouthed, almost inaudible. We held each other close and I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips. It was my first kiss and I was filing away every sight, sound, smell and sensation; I wanted to be able to recall every part of this moment and use it to banish the horror of that day ...