Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2

... “Which stands for?” I raised an eyebrow. I shouldn’t tease, but this was kind of fun. “I didn’t know it stood for anything,” he admitted, scratching his beard. “I just thought it was playful self-deprecation, like the Old Bastards Club. Hardly any of them are old … I didn’t ask about their parents though.” “So you came to HAGS to see if it was studded with young hotties?” I laughed. “No,” he shook his head, smiling to indicate that he got the joke. “I told you, I’m looking for someone. He told me to meet here.” “Hi Kev,” Belinda returned carrying fresh drinks. “Andrew says he running late. He told me to find you and feed you beer.” She handed cans to both of us. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” “We don’t,” I said, my mind was trying to catch up. I was beginning to enjoy Kevin’s company and when Belinda stepped in, my inner lioness growled ‘he’s mine’. “Hang on, how do you two know each other?” “Kevin is Andrew’s best mate,” Belinda explained. “Now, Jeannie,” she smiled at me, “we need to find you a guy so that you don’t scare the game away from Kev. When Andrew gets here, he’s going to want to get straight into wing-man mode.” “Oh!” I looked back and forth between Kevin and Belinda. How could I tell her I’d already picked a man to meet? “I thought I might … ah …” “I’m messing with you, Jeans,” she giggled. “You two are cute. And single! How cool is that?” “So, ah, you two know each other,” Kevin frowned. “Roommates,” Belinda smiled. “Or are we besties, sweetie?” ...

... “Besties,” I agreed with a forced smile. Until you scare Kevin off, then you’re public enemy number one, bitch. “And you’re not a celebrity?” Kevin asked. “Did you tell him you were Emma Watson?” Belinda laughed. “That’s my job, stop spoiling my fun!” “I’m a boring, Pure Maths post-grad,” I smiled at Kevin. “Oh!” he said. He didn’t look disappointed at all. “I’m Applied Maths. Honours year, so technically a dirty under-grad like Belinda.” “I don’t think anybody’s quite like Belinda,” I laughed. “Hey, our Number Theory lecturer told us a maths joke,” Belinda chimed in. “It’s a bit dirty, though.” “Say no!” I grabbed Kevin’s wrist in mock horror. “Don’t get her started!” “If I said no,” he grinned, “would you tell it anyway, Blin?” “Why is a prime number like a virgin?” she asked. “If you ignore her, she’ll go away,” I smiled at Kevin, still holding his wrist. I probably should let go soon. “I don’t know, Belinda,” said Kevin, playing the straight-man to a tee. “Why is a prime number like a virgin?” “Because the only things that go into it are one and itself,” she sang, holding up first one and then two fingers together. I jerked involuntarily, spilling some of my nearly-full beer; I’m sure Kevin felt it through my hand on his wrist. At twenty-four, I was feeling more than a little self-conscious about my virginity and Belinda had caught me off guard with a thinly veiled joke about female masturbation, which is the only kind of sexual contact I get. I felt a warm flush rising up my ...