Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 3 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 3

... excited, I ended up peeking out the front window waiting for him. Like a doting mother, she made me bring him inside and tried the old ‘Have her home by ten o’clock, young man’ line. We both laughed at her; it must have been the nervous tension because it really wasn’t very funny. She also made me show off my outfit, twirling to make the skirt flare up and causing me to blush, even though I knew it couldn’t flare high enough to see I wore no panties. Then she started to grill Kevin mercilessly about how pretty he thought I looked, making his ears go red. I finally put a stop to it and dragged him out the door to the sounds of Belinda’s musical laughter. “I won’t be here later,” she called after us. “I’m spending the night at Andrew’s.” Good to know. We left his car and walked to the train station, then we caught the train in to Circular Quay, holding hands all the way and sitting close enough for our legs to touch. “Where are you taking me?” I asked as we walked down from the train platform, my hair and skirt bouncing playfully with every step. “Do you want to know?” he replied. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?” “Surprise,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. I’m a sucker for surprises. He made me stand away from him while he went to the ferry terminal and bought tickets, which kind of narrowed down the possibilities for a surprise; the ferries go to a lot of places in Sydney Harbour, but not all of them are date-worthy. Twilight at Taronga Park Zoo was my guess, and ...

... that was fine with me; the red pumps only had a two-inch heel so I could manage a bit of walking, and walking meant holding hands, and stopping at exhibits meant touching, maybe some hugging. Hopefully not too much kissing though, my lips still hurt from the night before. “C’mon, let’s go get coffee,” he said, tucking the tickets into his pocket and taking my hand again. We walked around the quay-side to the Opera House, stopping for take-away coffee along the way, which we then carried up to foot of the steps. “Do you want to sit down here?” he offered. “Um … this skirt isn’t ideal for sitting on the ground,” I said, wondering how many tourists’ cameras would appear if I began flashing my pussy to the entire Sydney Opera House forecourt. “It’s a bit …,” I didn’t finish the sentence, I just held the hem out on both sides, demonstrating how short and open it was. “Mmmm,” he mused thoughtfully, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “It could have been worse.” “How?” I asked, sensing a joke. “You could have forgotten to wear panties,” he laughed. Blush! Oh my goodness, I was burning up. “I didn’t forget ,” I said, gathering my courage. “I didn’t wear any deliberately.” That silenced him. I wonder what he’ll be thinking about for the rest of the afternoon now! “Let’s go stand at the railing,” I suggested. We walked out onto Bennelong Point and watched the ferries come and go under the Harbour Bridge, leaning against the railing and sipping coffee while the breeze nipped at the ...