Goodbye, Miss Granger Ch. 04-05

Belinda put the earrings in and tied on the red hair ribbon just as I finished my makeup and I was ready with three minutes to spare. If I was going to be seeing more of Kevin then I hoped this wouldn't set unrealistic expectations about how long it takes to get ready to go out.

I looked at the final product in the mirror. It was me (of course), in my clothes, with my hair and makeup ... but it looked like someone else entirely. Someone really sexy. It was the juxtaposition, the demure skirt versus the bare legs and sexy shoes, the school-girl hair-ribbon versus the sexually suggestive red lipstick and earrings. Those combinations created a tension – a frisson – that was somehow sexier than a flat-out slinky dress and come-fuck-me boots.

"Oh, wow!" I whispered. "That's different."

"I call it 'Slutty Sunday-School Teacher'," Belinda said, smiling at me in the mirror. "You still have time for that nervous wee. I'll go watch for Kev."

I turned to face her and felt a lump rising in my throat. I was so excited about seeing Kevin again and so thankful for the way Belinda was playing mother-hen; all of the urgency and emotion was building inside me and coming to a head. I wanted to thank her but I would probably start crying, so I just hugged her instead.

"Thank you," I mouthed in her ear, squeezing harder; I don't even know if she heard.

Chapter 5 – Needs a Man's Touch

Kevin was a few minutes late. Not that I was holding him to his fifteen minute promise, but I felt kind of proud on Belinda's behalf of what she had achieved in so little time. I was also keyed up and 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 hem of my skirt, threatening to expose my bottom. I put an arm around Kevin's waist and pulled close so that our hips were touching. He turned to look at me, his eyes dark shadows behind his sunglasses, and I craned my neck up to give him a coffee-flavoured kiss – just a soft one, lips only.

Kevin put his arm around me, his fingers resting lightly on the curve of my waist and his thumb a scant couple of inches beneath the support of my bra. Suddenly I wanted that hand to head north; I was glad we didn't get more intimate the previous night, but now – after all of that talk of first-time sex with Belinda – I was curious, and I was so ready.

He kissed me back, more deeply and insistently.

"Ow!" I pulled back, just an inch. "I'm still sore. From last night. Pash-rash" I smiled, indicating the skin around my lips and my chin, still heavily made up.

"Oh!" he said, the disappointment obvious. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I said, and then smiled. "Well, not entirely, anyway. You just have to be gentle with me." I gave him another kiss, soft, dry, lips only. "Like that," I whispered, our noses still touching.

He kissed back again, more gently this time. "Is that better?"

"A bit," I said. "Maybe you need to practice. Here, hold this." I gave him my coffee cup and now, with his hands full, I turned him to face me and embraced him with both arms, pecking at his lips with short, gentle kisses while I explored the contours of his back, following the lean lines of muscle under his shoulder-blades, down over his kidneys, and finally sliding my fingers into the back pockets of his jeans, feeling the shape of his backside until he tensed the muscles deliciously beneath my fingertips.

"That's not fair," he murmured through my kisses, his hands full and using his forearms to hug me ineffectually around my bra-strap, yet still managing to press by breasts deliciously into his chest.

"Let's walk back through the gardens," I said, letting him go and taking my cup back. We crossed the forecourt again towards Farm Cove and through the gates into the Royal Botanic Gardens, where we binned the coffee cups and took the steps up to the low bluff that overlooks the Sydney Opera House. There's lots of little paths and thick, shady trees and not so many tourists, so it feels kind of private. We walked slowly with arms around each other, his on my waist and mine in his back-pocket, feeling his backside though the denim. It was slow progress because we stopped at regular intervals to hold and kiss, his hands occasionally straying down to cup my bottom, making me wonder whether he was checking for a panty-line that wasn't there.

~~~

Back at Circular Quay, Kevin led me to what might be Australia's most recognisable water-craft: the Manly Ferry. So much for a surprise. I wasn't disappointed though, I like Manly; nice cafes and restaurants, nice beaches, and the ferry ride is romantic – it's quaint and old-fashioned like a vintage train ride.

We went straight to the seats by the port-side railing on the upper deck where we could sit in the sunshine and look out at the Harbour Bridge. A few minutes later the ferry got underway, the massive engines turning Wharf 3 into a vicious, white washing machine, and before long we had rounded Bennelong Point and were motoring at something close to full speed, which we found out later is only a stately eighteen knots on the old ferries.

Most of the other passengers were either downstairs or inside and we had the port-side rail to ourselves. Looking out over the fancy North Shore houses, we laughed and joked about which one would be best to live in. Would it have room for our yacht? And what about our vintage car collection? We settled on the one next door to Kirribilli House, just so we could drop in on the Prime Minister and ask to borrow his lawnmower. In other words, we were being immature, but we were having fun nonetheless. The combination of sunshine and laughter had me feeling frisky and holding hands wasn't doing the job for me anymore.

"Oooh, look at that one over there!" I pointed past Kevin, and when he turned around I quickly hopped into his lap with an arm around his neck and folded my bare legs into the seat I had just vacated.

"This is new," he smiled happily.

"My seat was uncomfortable," I said, kissing him. "But this is better."

Conversation suffered after that. I undid one of the buttons of his shirt and slid my hand in to stroke his chest, combing my fingers through the hairs while his hand gradually grew bolder (and my seat grew lumpier!) as he first cupped my bottom over the skirt and then slid it beneath the hem to explore my smooth upper thigh. By the time the ferry crossed into North Harbour my lipstick was mostly on Kevin, and his other hand – ostensibly supporting my back – had migrated upwards to measure the modest swell of my breast through the bra cup. It surprised me not-at-all that Belinda was completely right about the unsatisfying nature of being felt-up through a bra.

"I need to freshen up my lipstick," I said as the ferry decelerated coming into Manly Cove.

"How's mine?" Kevin asked, leaning back to let me look at his lips.

"Smeared," I laughed, wiping off the worst of it with my thumb. "You could use a touch-up."

"You go ahead. I'll mind the seats," he said enigmatically, although his reluctance to get up might be informed by the bulge in his jeans that I had been wriggling around on, trying unsuccessfully to seat it between my legs where it seemed to belong.

Walking off to the toilet, I knew that Kevin was watching my bottom so I took longer strides to make the skirt bounce and swish, but it had the unexpected side-effect of making my engorged pussy lips rub together with wet friction, sending a shiver of desire through me that raised goose-bumps all over my body. As I fixed my lipstick in the mirror, I noticed the flushed cheeks, the dilated pupils, the hard nipples poking through my bra and felt the burning warmth between my thighs, and I wondered whether I was going to make it all the way through this date, or maybe I should just rent a hotel room in Manly and get Kevin to finish me off then and there.

Dinner was sweet and romantic in its simplicity. We walked across the neck of land between Manly Cove on the harbour side to Manly Beach on the Pacific Ocean, and found a bottle-O – where we bought a bottle of South Australian champagne (oops, je suis désolé France, I mean Sparkling White Wine) – and a discount shop where we picked up two plastic champagne flutes for a dollar each. With drinks sorted, we ordered a seafood basket from a take-away fish shop and took it across the road to eat and drink and watch the waves as the sun went down behind us.

Like a couple of idiots, we replayed the Lady and The Tramp spaghetti scene with a crumbed calamari ring, nibbling into the middle and then stealing a greasy kiss and laughing when our lips met. As the darkness slowly deepened and the bottle slowly emptied, our sense of privacy and intimacy grew out of proportion to the situation, which was essentially a very public – though sparsely populated – city beach.

Lying on my back with Kevin propped on one elbow beside me, I conspired to untuck the front of my blouse per Belinda's instructions. I was trying to work out how I could discreetly pull down my bra when his fingers left my naked thigh and crept beneath the white cotton, making my stomach muscles flutter nervously as they moved inexpertly but eagerly up to stroke across the satiny cups.

Fuck decorum, it's overrated. Without breaking our kiss, I reached under my blouse and hoiked my bra down from under each arm, my breasts popping free on the second try and giving me enough slack to pull the entire thing down to my waist and out of the way.

Thank you Belinda! I will never question your choice of underwear again! Oh God, and she was so right; Kevin's first tentative touches to my breasts sent out ecstatic shivers through my entire body, making me squeeze my thighs together as the fire kindling there flared hotter. I heard his breathing double as his gentle fingers found my areola and traced the little bumps there that rose to his touch. Hearing his arousal only served to heighten mine, and I whimpered and arched my back, pressing my breast more firmly into his hand, desperate for more.

I couldn't believe I had made it to twenty-four years without being touched like this. I'm no prude; I touch myself to masturbate, and I thought – wrongly as it turned out – that a man's touch would be not so different. I even considered that it would be less satisfying because masturbation gave me more control.

Kevin's first touch to my nipple burst that bubble. It was stiff and hard and resisted as he brushed across it, leaning but not yielding before snapping back like a bowstring and sending miniature shockwaves of pleasure through my breast. His fingers returned unerringly, gently pinching and shaping it, feeling its hard, excited texture and making me moan into our kiss.

I cried out a little louder when he moved to my other breast, not expecting the renewed surge of pleasure as fresh nerve-endings responded explosively to their first touch, dumping adrenalin into my system and raising my heartbeat to an excited pounding that I could hear in my ears.

Kevin shifted his weight on his elbow, moving more of his upper body over mine as he bent one knee to rest on my naked thighs. The movement down there set off a passionate reflex; without meaning to, I arched downwards with my hips and relaxed my legs, allowing them to part and his knee to slide between my thighs. I was immediately conscious of my naked pussy, now vulnerable and unguarded with his leg holding mine apart, my aching sex now covered only by the flap of my skirt. I could tell how wet and open I was with the night air cooling against my glistening lips; I felt exposed all the way to my core.

I felt a moment of loss when his hand left my breasts, but it was forgotten in a breathless rush when his palm closed around the side of my thigh and slid sensuously up to my hip, finally getting the chance to search more thoroughly for the panties that were never there. I rolled towards him and as his hand rounded my naked bottom, I felt his fingers brush smoothly over my tailbone – the last possible bastion for a high-cut G-string – and I felt a thrill of excitement again when I heard his breath whistle through his nose as he realised the implications of my state of undress.

"Did you get dressed in a hurry?" he whispered, amusement and horniness obvious in his voice as his index finger traced the cleft of my buttocks.

"Actually yes," I giggled. "Take a memo, girls need more than fifteen minutes to get ready for a date."

"Noted," he said, kissing me again and closing his palm over my lower buttock, his fingertips perilously close to my wet opening. "But I feel a compelling case for fifteen minutes notice right now," he finished, giving my bottom a gentle squeeze, his fingertips stroking and circling, edging closer to my sex. Surely he could feel the heat pouring out of there, enticing him forward, begging him to come in.

I lifted my knee so our legs were scissored together and my pussy opened even further, my juices now flowing freely and trickling onto my thigh. Kevin pulled back his hand to explore the shape of my naked bottom before stretching between my thighs again, brushing across my swollen lips and coming away leaving a slick trail, causing both of us to gasp in shared excitement. Reaching again, he touched me a second time, just two fingers resting either side of my opening, not pulling away this time, but scarcely moving, testing the pillowy softness of my most intimate place and the texture of the sodden hairs plastered to my skin. It wasn't exactly the Black Forest down there – my bikini-line was waxed for summer – but all of a sudden I felt so very different from those clean-shaven girls on the internet; it was a distinction I kind of liked.

Tentatively, Kevin traced the edges of my sex with his fingertips, keeping them just on the outer curve of skin where it angles in to my pink centre. Down to my perineum and then slowly back up to the limit of his reach, either side of my clitoris. I wriggled up to give him better access and his fingers met at the beginning of my slit, teasing the cleft just there, using the lubrication he had collected from lower down to stroke smoothly down over my clitoral hood and then back up.

Belinda's voice rose unbidden in my memory from that afternoon: "He won't know where anything is; either give him a good, long look or give him instructions."

"A bit lower," I breathed nervously, my passion and horniness overriding my embarrassment to be giving directions, and then, "O-o-o-oh!" as his fingertip slid over my clitoris and into the hot, pink opening of my sex. He stroked slowly and wetly over my inner folds, no doubt sensing this was the source of the heat and moisture, teasing me and spreading me wider, my pussy all-but-begging for his cock to come and plug the hole that was so wantonly open and needy.

He slid one finger inside me – just up to the first knuckle – and my pussy sucked down tightly on it as if I had never had my own fingers up there. And this was so wonderfully different, so utterly unlike my own touch or that of a vibrator. It occurred to me to savour and remember the moment as another in the progressive loss of my virginity that for so many girls happens all at once, at eighteen when I first penetrated myself with my own finger, at twenty when I broke my hymen with a vibrator, and now when I first let a boy touch me down there.

And would tonight finish that progression? Would I finally come to the moment when I had no more virginity to lose? How could I not? There was no backing out now. Belinda had been right about everything, the bra, the panties, the fumbling fingers. For all of her instruction, it really boiled down to just one fact: that even with the best of intentions, he will come quickly and that 'first-time' moment will be over before it begins. Belinda's school of better-boinking was all about prolonging that moment.

Kevin slowly pumped his finger in and out of my pussy, pausing to swirl it around my clitoris and causing me to gasp and cry out, my body stiffening in his arms as I became his puppet, controlling all of my muscles from my core with a single finger while he kissed gently at my gasping lips.

"More," I cried quietly in his ear, wriggling again to improve his reach behind me and between my thighs. Goodness knows why I didn't just roll back and let him have at me from the front.

"Yes!" I begged as he touched a second finger to my steaming entrance, and then I wailed softly – aware of the possibility of others in the darkness – as he stretched me wider, sliding thickly into my steaming pussy with both fingers, fucking me with a slow, sensuous rhythm while he kissed my lips in gentle, loving pecks.