What You Do to Me - Sex Stories

What You Do to Me

... control,” I reminded her. “Nothing happens that you don’t want.” Her smile was small and not as genuine. We sat for several seconds. “Well,” I said, “It’s time we find you a taxi. Can’t have you walking home in those heels.” She surprised me by putting her hand across the top of mine. “Wait,” she said, with a touch of urgency. “What is it?” “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “What?” “The kiss,” she said. “You said you were going to kiss me.” “Ah!” I chuckled. “But you said you didn’t want that, so…” “You’re kidding,” she accused. I shook my head slowly. “I promised. Nothing that you don’t want.” Her hand shifted to my cheek. “I’ve been thinking about it. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.” “I see.” “I want you to kiss me, Drew,” she said in a soft whisper. I looked at her full, moist lips. “Cheryl,” I replied softly. “I will, if you want.” “Please,” she said. “Kiss me.” Her lips seemed to melt under mine. I felt her teeth sharp on my tongue as I gently probed. I heard a little intake of her breath, and then her tongue was touching mine, soft, slick, and insistent. My lips slid across hers and I stole a look into her face. Her eyes were closed and her hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck. I closed my own eyes and savored the taste and feel of her. She pulled away slowly and I opened my eyes to see her staring into mine. “I think,” she said slowly. “I think that we’re in a very dangerous place, Drew.” I pulled her toward me for another kiss, this one a tender, ...

... gentle meshing of our lips. She did not resist. “You said once,” she stated, her voice husky with a touch of accusation. I nodded. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.” She grinned brightly. “Take your second kiss back,” she ordered. “How?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Like this,” she said, and then pressed her lips firmly onto mine. ++++ “We can’t go on like this,” Cheryl said in a gentle rebuke, as if talking to a recalcitrant child. It had been a week since our kissing session on the park bench. Still, she had agreed quickly to my email requesting another encounter. We sat in our little park, on a different bench. She had dressed in her standard casual style; a signal that there would be no extended luncheon in a more elegant setting. “Can’t we?” I asked with an easy smile. “I really enjoyed kissing you.” Cheryl pressed her hand atop mine. “That’s exactly the problem. I enjoyed it, too, perhaps a little too much.” “Have you been having wicked thoughts about us?” I chuckled. Her hair swung as she shook her head in resignation. “You shouldn’t ask me things like that.” It was another gentle reprimand. “You know,” I told her easily, “I love how you answer my questions without answering them.” “I’m married, Drew,” Cheryl said. “I made a commitment.” I nodded my understanding. “At the same time,” I responded, “You haven’t shirked any of your responsibilities. You are always there for him. You’re ready and willing should he desire you. You keep your place tidy and have his ...