Driving Mrs. Tandy
Copyright© 2008 by Heel
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - John Stefanovitch was appointed as Mrs. Tandy's driver on his 25th birthday. He took that as a good sign. He didn't have any reason to think otherwise.
Her hand felt soft and warm in his. She had found some comfort, and was reluctant to let him go. John could sense her pain and tension, her misery. He was kneeling before her, as if in prayer, desperately wanting to make her feel better. But there was nothing he could do for her.
"You were so kind to me," she said and smoothly withdrew her hand.
For a moment, he felt useless and empty. Then, he realized how important she was to him. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. Reflexively, her face assumed a startled expression which was quickly replaced by a quizzical look.
"I didn't want to offend you," he said, drowning in her green eyes.
"I still flinch when someone touches me unexpectedly. Immobility makes me feel vulnerable."
"I will never do that again. I sympathize with your predicament."
"Yes, I am to be pitied. The poor woman, whose body was crushed, who can do nothing but complain, and can't even pee without help," she said angrily.
"Abby," John whispered and watched her anger crumbling, dissolving into sadness.
"I want to be left alone."
He started wringing his hands, and then said:
"Abby, I want to kiss you."
"I don't think it's funny to..." she stopped, then her lips parted to complete the sentence.
Unable to curb his feelings, he kissed her passionately. Her eyes bulged and her good hand shot up to stop him. For a second, he thought that she was about to hit him. Her lips were stiff and unyielding, her face flushed. Then, slowly and unexpectedly, she responded to his kiss. Their tongues met with a pleasant tickle. He cupped her cheeks, taking care not to touch the device that supported her head.
"Are you crazy?" she asked softly.
He caressed her forehead and smoothed her hair back from her face.
"Yes, but I can control my craziness," he said and smiled.
"It feels a bit strange to be treated this way. Since I lost my attractiveness..."
He placed his forefinger on her mouth, muffling her words.
"You are beautiful."
"Really, how could you know that?"
"To be honest, your plaster shell doesn't hide much, you know."
"Hey, you almost made me feel like a princess," she said sarcastically.
His hand moved down and rested on her bare shoulder. Caressing her soft skin, he stared at the cast encasing her torso. The plaster cast was moulded nicely around her rounded breasts, emphasizing their shape. It looked as if she was wrapped up in a tight corset. He traced his finger over the padded edge of the cast, then curiously touched the hard shell.
"What are you doing?" she asked, turning her eyes down in a futile attempt to see his hands.
"Touching your breasts."
"Ha! Some other time maybe. They are very well protected now, too protected," she said, laughing.