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The moment arrives, I am still blushing, what do I say? What do I do? Do I kiss him? As a perfect gentleman, he just says “Hello Sandra, I’ve been waiting for you.” With a beautiful smile that I just can’t resist, our lips find themselves on their own. It is a soft, wet kiss, his tongue twirling in my mouth knowing exactly what it is supposed to do, and there is not an ounce of doubt in his movements. His hands caress my face, and then one runs down my neck to settle behind my back, bringing us even more closely together. The other holds me by the back of the head and I sense it is so I couldn’t run away. As if I was crazy enough to want to leave a kiss like that! My hands start opposite of his by grabbing his ass and work their way up under his jacket, to finally land themselves on his back; just to be sure he doesn’t leave either. When our first kiss stops I feel myself blushing even more but being nervous is no longer a part of it, and I smile at him. His hand finds mine and in. In order to make things easier for him, I changed out of my one piece swimsuit into a bra and panties. When I walked back into the room with my shirt still unbuttoned, he murmured something about Jesus and the saints, but knew that they could do nothing to help him. I smiled, knowing that my own change had finally become complete. I was not the same girl he knew from school, not by a long shot. The gloves were off. I whispered instructions, getting louder to the point where I was almost shouting out orders. Afterwards, we held each other, much as we did on other occasions in the dark, but with the late-afternoon sunlight illuminating the already white room. Once again, I was conscious of our surroundings, but I didn’t care. He was almost ready to go home after looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand and washing his hands, but he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. I asked him if he wanted more. Of course he did. As we stood, kissing and just holding each other, I eased.
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