Robin Goes Tender: Part 2 - Sex Stories

Robin Goes Tender: Part 2

... toughness -- they lit up my apartment and served as a reminder of my impending rendezvous.

Saturday night was hardly easier but I managed, and on Sunday morning I put myself through my exercises -- push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups -- shaved and showered and donned some jeans, an expensive polo shirt and deck shoes.

I arrived at Robin's precisely at 4:05, flowers in hand, and she greeted me with a big smile and a bigger hug. She led me joyfully inside, taking me by the hand, and then wrapped her arms around me for a long deep kiss. She was all woman, my body told me, beyond perfect -- but she was more!

"I knew you'd be able to survive our first meeting, you're a real man," she said. "I thought maybe it was too much at once, but then again I think I know what you really need."

I nodded. She wore a flimsy simple off-white dress, shorter than before, and matching heels, higher than before. No bra, white lace panties I guessed.

"I bet you'd been waiting for that for ages, even if you didn't know it yourself."

"You may be right, Robin."

"You know I'm right, Mark."

She brought me into her kitchen, arranged the flowers, stood back to admire them, kissed me again, and then brought out a bottle of white French wine, chilled. I devoured her, her form, her perfect small breasts, her narrow waist, her long long legs, her womanly curves. My eyes fell to where the hem of her dress rested on her thighs, not far below her glory. She bit her lip, looked quizzically at me, ...

... hesitated, and then took my hands in hers.

"Some ground rules, darling," she said. "I am who I am because I chose to be, so let's dispense with any further questions. This is me."

"Got it."

"Now, I've got something for you."

We returned to her lounge, aglow in the fading afternoon sunlight. No music, just a nice semi-silence. She brought out a shoebox with a pair of clogs, somewhat high in the heel, black soft leather.

"Try them," she advised.

I slipped out of my deck shoes and put them on. They gave me a little lift, a little push to my butt, but they were comfortable.

"I think you look great in them," Robin said. "Just that little touch of the feminine for you... not too much, just enough for others to notice, just enough to remind you and me that you're a submissive little slut. But we need to do one other thing."

She took out a small pouch, told me to sit forward and to hold still, and proceeded to apply eye-shadow and eye-liner.

"Now, go look at yourself."

I walked to her bathroom mirror and saw a reasonably handsome masculine face made peculiarly girl-like and dramatic. My eyes looked alluring. I was amazed at what small touches could do to create an effect, such as the eye-liner. And the dark-blue shadow she applied made me seem like a smouldering question mark, half-girl, half-guy depending on who was reading into it. What was getting myself into? I thought, mischievously.

"I like it," I said, smiling.

"And I like how you're walking ...