(It was late autumn of 1960 and I, David Shaw, was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being an alleged ‘Peeping Tom’ in the grounds of ‘Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years old’. There were 120 girls registered at the school. Clearly I was not a so called ‘pervert’ but I could not prove it.
I had decided not to get the local police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the traditional ‘Punishment Rules of the School’ as applied to Peeping Toms. This involved being stripped naked and spread-eagled on the headmistress’ study carpet, and fettered with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in floorboards at each corner of the room. I was then required to orally pleasure the ‘whole’ school. This is part twelve of my sorry tale.)
“Lookth Mith Wifth- Nathford I’ve made the ‘Peeping Thom’ have a big, big ‘fountain’ ooooh.” she said to her headmistress in her delightful ‘little-girly’ voice, waking her up from an alcohol induced sleep.
It had been ten long, glorious minutes since this young ‘French Maid’ had began wanking me. It was very fortunate that Miss Wiff-Naseford had fallen asleep when she did.
I was wondering whether Samantha knew the first thing about male anatomy, clearly not.
Taking stock of the situation to date.
1.I had managed to ‘orally pleasure’ 43 girls.
2.I had ejaculated four times, I think.
3.I had had full penetration once.
4.I had orally pleasured the headmistress, Miss Wiff-Naseford, twice.
5.I had orally pleasured two members of her staff.
6.I had 77 more school girls to pleasure orally as well as staff members.
7.It was now 7 pm and I was now ever so hungry and desperate for a shower.
Miss Wiff-Naseford eventually rediscovered her composure and tenuous grip on reality only to realise that I was the only person left in her room. She called for her secretary, Celia, to summon Matron, or Molly as she was known to her colleagues, so that I could be cleaned up, washed and given something to eat.
The insane headmistress, who was hell bent on following the prescribed ordinances of her predecessor, Miss Geraldine Maxine Bliss-Frampton to the letter, told me that if I were to ‘pleasure her girls’ (sic) as it were, she would allow them to masturbate me to a climax so long as remained ‘relatively passive’ and tethered to her study floor.
I said that I would obey her, and comply with all her demands so long as I could achieve physical relief and not be made to suffer unduly. Although we did not shake hands on the matter I felt that an element of trust had developed between us.
From my point of view I could not imagine anything more stimulating than pleasuring young nineteen year old girls, particularly if they had never been pleasured before. Also from my point of view I needed to be wanked off, to put it bluntly, or else I would have found it impossible to carry on. Behind her spectacles I could just make out that our dear headmistress had agreed to my proposition.
The door opened at the far end of her office. I heard the clatter of high heels and in strode four more tall slim girls from class 2A. I peered downwards across the room and saw that they were all wearing deep red ‘French Cancan dresses’ and long silk black gloves.
“Come in ‘Cancan girls’. I imagine that you are in the middle of your rehearsals for the Autumn Review so I will not to need to know too many details except whether any of you are having periods? Well are you?” said Miss Wiff-Naseford from her chair behind me.
“No Miss Wiff-Naseford,” said the four Cancan girls in unison.
“Good, good, now Judith Dodd please step forward, thank you.”
A very lithe skittish dark-haired girl walked across the room. She wore a ‘Venetian red’ nylon cancan dress which extended down to mid-calf level in three gathered tiers. It was trimmed with black lace flounces at every tier and was very full and flouncy at the hem.
“What have you got on underneath those delightful clothes Judith?”
“Well Miss Wiff-Naseford I have a lovely white lacy Cancan petticoat. It is in very fine cotton and is bigger than a full circle. It has four flounced tiers. The bottom tier is double-layered and is trimmed with wide hems of Broderie Anglais and eyelet lace. Under my petticoat I am wearing a beautiful pair of white cotton bloomers which end just above my knees. These are edged in two overlapping tiers of cotton eyelet lace. Beneath my bloomers I am wearing a pair of medium-denier black seamed stockings supported by a lovely lacy cotton suspender belt.” she said swaying from side to side staring at me, and at my flaccid penis.
“OK Judith I didn’t really want a list I just wanted to see what was underneath, now stand over there between the Peeping Tom’s legs and lift up your skirt so that we can both see what you have on. I observe that you are also wearing illegal bahis little lace-up high-heeled boots. They look so coquettish and delightful. Now up with your skirt.”
Judith appeared rather shy and self conscious having already outlined in great detail what was underneath, she appeared reluctant to verify that what she had described was indeed the case. She shot glances at me, then at Miss Wiff-Naseford, then at my penis which was lying in a small shriveled state in a pool of drying semen. Judith pulled her dress up at the sides to reveal her pure white starched cotton petticoat. She did not lift it however. She held her dress in such a way that it formed large gathered bunches to each side. She rolled her hips from side to side and her petticoat swayed outwards, upwards then fell back into place. Her petticoat was extremely wide at the hem where it was finished in lots of little lace trimmed flounces. She rolled her hips several times and appeared to be gaining in confidence.
“Up with your petticoat Judith, I’m sure Mr. Tom here would wish to see what’s underneath, wouldn’t you Mr. Tom eh?” Miss Wiff-Naseford pushed her drunken body off her chair, reached out and roughly kicked me on my right ear.
“Ouch,” I said unable to move my limbs to attend to the pain.
With a certain amount of theatrical aplomb the nineteen year old school girl lifted her Cancan dress and petticoat up to her face so that her big dark staring eyes and hair were just visible behind her hems. She smiled coyly.
The view above me and in front of me was incredible. The underside of her petticoat was beautifully detailed; where each tier was gathered, a lace flounce had been sewn in, so that there was layer upon layer of starched white lace. Her bloomers were relatively plain except for the hems. Here again were two layers of starched cotton lace. There was a tiny damp patch in her gusset which indicated that she was perhaps feeling worked up about what was to happen next. My penis rolled to one side then started to stiffen dragging strings of drying semen with it across the base of my stomach. I noticed her looking at it, smiling curiously.
“Thank you Judith,” slurred the headmistress behind me. “Now pull down your bloomers and pop your’ hairy snatch’ on Mr. Tom’s face.”
Judith appeared to understand what was required of her and pulled her dress up at the back and slid her gloved fingers into the elasticated waist band of her cotton bloomers and dragged them down to her knees and stepped out of them. She waved them around in front of me, her young face smiling seductively.
Of course she dropped them on my face as almost every girl had done in the past. She watched my penis increase in length and girth as I smelled the trapped sweet warmth of her gusset. She whisked them away and stepped up to my upturned face.
Following careful directions from Miss Wiff-Naseford Judith placed one of her black leather boots to one side of my face and swung the other over until she stood over me. From my fettered position I looked up her very long shapely legs beneath her skirt and petticoat to where they met in a mass of dark brown curls above me.
She raised her dress and petticoat to her waist, squatted down, legs wide apart, and positioned her vagina on my mouth and nose. Her natural scent was intense. She rearranged her dress and petticoat over me so that I was in her private darkened underskirt space. Her dress was of such a length that the headmistress could not see my head at all from her position in her armchair behind me.
“Lift your dress up girl, I want to see Tom’s tongue at work,” she exclaimed to Miss Dodd, somewhat directly.
With her skirt and petticoat raised to her waist I started easing apart her outer lips which were already moist and covered with beads of vaginal juices. She flinched as I pushed my tongue up inside them and wiggled it about. My nose probed her clitoral hood which was now very prominent. She pushed herself further forward as I began a continuous rhythm of firm licking and flicking. She held onto my head with one hand but had to let go of her dress and underskirt which cascaded all over me, concealing me from the drunken headmistress.
Miss Wiff-Naseford told Judith that it didn’t matter about the ‘raised dress’ and to ‘just get on with it’ as she put it crudely.
I felt Miss Judith Dodd’s nineteen year old gloved hands grip the top of my head through her skirt as she wiped her cleft up and down, up and down, up and down my tongue and nose. Her exposed inner lips left a smear of strong smelling vaginal slime over me as her rubbing became more and more intense.
Around me white lacy petticoats moved, slid and shook. I ‘caught’ her stockings with the slight stubble which by now had developed during the day on my chin. Her movements were becoming more and more earnest as she rubbed herself all over my face, over and over again. She did this again and again, over and over again. Stray pubic hairs became illegal bahis siteleri trapped in my teeth and it was becoming noticeably stuffy and sweaty under all her layers of white cotton petticoat and red nylon Cancan dress.
Within a few seconds she increased her tempo and I found it difficult to keep up with her, so I just pushed my tongue out and licked any part of her genitalia which happened to slide over me. Unexpectedly she suddenly stopped and pushed heavily down on me. She screamed then groaned, then groaned again, gripping me tighter, then shuddered. Her whole body shook in muscular spasms. Her thighs gripped my face and then it was all over and she fell backwards across my chest, her thighs wide open to Miss. Wiff-Nasefords ogling hawk-like gaze.
I heard the clink of a gin bottle.
Judith’s boots came to rest on my outspread arms pushing my leather wrist-straps even more tighter. It really was a painful experience, particularly as she was also squashing my penis and testicles. She remained sprawled on my chest for several minutes until Miss Wiff-Naseford realised that it was time for me to pleasure her second Cancan dancer, Kathryn Heathcote. Miss Dodd crawled off me and limped her way back towards the doorway putting on her bloomers.
Kathryn Heathcote was a very attractive nineteen year old. Her hair was blonde and piled up on top with little ringlets hanging down around her ears. She had a very purposeful stride. Clunk, clunk, clunk went her boots on the study carpet as she walked up to me and hitched her Cancan dress up at the back and slid off her frilly bloomers which she dropped on my face.
I had now got used to such rudeness. I thought that the whole of the school appeared ill-mannered in this respect.
She placed both her boots on either side of my face, pulled up her skirt and squatted on my face. Her pubic hair was very coarse for one so blonde, I thought. Up went my tongue into her hairy orifice and she pushed herself forward and downward to ensure maximum contact and friction. I noticed that her stockings had several ladders in them near the welt at the top. She must clearly have had trouble fastening them to her suspenders.
Her thighs were soft, smooth and lickable.
The smell from her vagina was almost overwhelming. I concluded that she had been stimulated by watching my movements under Judith Dodd’s dress. We both began easing her slowly towards her orgasm. For five minutes I probed, delved and poked, then probed again, licking and sucking her clitoris which was now fully exposed. My face was sticky from her vaginal emissions. Again I experienced the swishing and swaying of petticoat layers moving around me, above me and over me. The air was humid and almost fetid as I continued driving her towards her ‘ultimate pleasure’.
My erection was straining almost to boiling point. Precum was glistening from its purple end which was twitching, searching in vain in thin air for sexual relief.
This tall girl above me opened her legs even wider and shuffled further onto me. By now I had my nose rammed firmly into her inner lips, I could hardly breathe, and began shaking my head to try and get some relief.
The more I shook the further Miss Heathcote kept my nose inserted deeply into her vagina. I was becoming quite worried. All at once she increased the pace of her rubbings using only my nose to stimulate her clitoris. She bounced against me heavily and incessantly for, what seemed like a very long time. Up and down she bounced, backwards and forwards, up and down holding my head into her.
I actually felt physical pain in my neck as she carried on at a quick pace. Within seconds she screamed loudly, her orgasm hitting her in waves, her thighs shaking involuntarily.
“OOW, oh, oh, oh,” the nineteen year old moaned as her orgasm subsided.
She held me to her and only released me when she was totally calm and collected. I emerged breathlessly from under her petticoat to the sound of the headteacher shouting across the room.
“Next please, oh yes it’s Christine Forrester isn’t it. Well Miss Forrester I trust you have not smuggled anymore…err…dildos into school as you did last year? Seven wasn’t it I confiscated from you?”
“Yes Miss Wiff-Naseford,” she said sheepishly looking quite ashamed.
“Well Christine you have ‘Mr. Peeping Tom’ here to pleasure you today, down with your drawers dear, and be quick.”
“Yes Miss Wiff-Naseford.” Christine said looking at me while sliding her black gloved hands up the sides of her dress into the tops of her cotton lace-trimmed bloomers which she dragged down to her knees and then stepped out of them tossing them onto my face.
Again I felt intensely insulted by her callousness. I thought that ‘Finishing Schools’ were supposed to teach young ladies manners. She walked up to me towering over me then kicked her bloomers to one side. She placed one Cancan boot next to my right cheek and the other next to my left canlı bahis siteleri and shuffled them inwards so my head was firmly gripped like a vice.
Above me I saw layer upon layer of white petticoat lace, all almost within touching distance of my outstretched tongue. She swayed her hips slowly above me and I heard the delightful swishing sounds of skirt and petticoat layers brushing against each other.
I was aware that this young lady was used to masturbating herself, probably vigorously and often and was fearful with what she was going to do to my face. My excitement and fear must have shown in my eyes. It also showed in my penis which again began to emerge from a pool of drying semen and pre-cum. My face smelled quite badly of vagina secretions from Miss Heathcote but there was nothing I could do about it.
“Come on now Miss Forrester, make a start please,” said Miss. Wiff-Naseford from her ‘ring-side’ seat behind me.
Christine Forrester spread her knees and lowered herself on to me in one movement. She shook her red dress and white petticoat all about her so that my face was again hidden from view. I heard the scratchy nylon sounds of her stockings sliding under her petticoat as she rearranged the various undergarments above me. The atmosphere under her dress was punctuated by the strong odour emanating from the moist lips of her drooling vagina.
My tongue gently probed her labial portals and wriggled its way up and in. She moaned as I found her clitoris. This appeared to act like a trigger because all of a sudden she began forcefully to rub the nub of her clitoris over and over me instinctively seeking out and concentrating on every minor protuberance of my face, in particular my nose She was all over me, attacking my nose from every angle with her clitoris. There was an animal-like fervor gripping her. Her hips and pelvis swung over me quickly in large circular movements punctuated by fierce jerking movements designed to maximise the sexual sensations of her genitals against my face.
Above me came an almost violent incessant rustling of petticoats. Her moaning increased as did her juices. My face became a repository for her vaginal spendings and sexual secretions. I felt that I was slowly drowning. Her groans were turning to sighs, and her sighs to gasps. Then, without warning, she froze above me and I sensed an enormous build up of sexual energy well inside her. It was an eerie silence before the storm.
Suddenly she squeezed me intensely with her thighs as her muscles spasmed. Through her clothes I heard her swear and curse loudly as I felt my head almost being wrenched off, her physical reactions being so strong. Everything around me was shaking in time to her orgasmic shuddering. Amongst the rhythmical gasping and moaning sounds coming from this girl I made out Miss Wiff-Naseford shouting out words of encouragement to Miss Forrester.
“Go on girl, that’s it, keep it going,” she ordered, above the swishing of underwear around me.
“Keep it going Christine,” she yelled in a deranged manner.
Christine clearly needed no additional encouragement as she appeared to be well on the way towards another orgasm. Under her dress my face felt trapped in a whirlwind of stockings, suspenders, damp thighs, pubic hair and petticoats. Her thighs threshed around madly, scraping her scratchy smooth stockings against my stubbly cheeks.
My nostrils were filling with sexual-secretions and I had to snort loudly to breathe between frottaging. Her smooth firm buttocks slid over me as she continued wiping her vaginal lips all over my face.
I had little strength left and my wrists and ankles felt sore through having to cushion Miss Forrester’s fervent movements.
My erect penis had somehow become buried amongst her dress hem and petticoat and I was aware of precum escaping onto anything it touched. Again I became conscious of another orgasm building up inside the energetic nineteen year old above me. Again she slowed down her movements waiting for her shuddering to take over and, again she came in great vocal waves.
“That’s it girl,” encouraged Miss Wiff-Naseford staring wildly at the movements under the Cancan dress. “Go on again, again,” she shouted getting out of her chair, almost tripping on her empty gin bottle.
My head and face were being used as a giant dildo, being forced roughly against her dripping opening as she gripped me and forced my nose and tongue into her again and again. The smell and heat was so intense that I thought I would pass out. On and on she went groaning and moaning, on and on.
“Another one, go on girl!, another one, that’s it,” shrieked the headmistress almost baying for blood.
I was so tired that I could not fight back and allowed this nineteen year old schoolgirl, dressed in a calf-length Cancan dress to use my head as an object upon which to bring herself off again and again. Her groaning and moaning turned to animal-like grunts as she orgasmed again over me. It was as if my disembodied head was being tossed about in a stormy sea.
I had initially feared that someone who owned dseven dildos would have a voracious sexual appetite and I was correct. Why had no one warned me of this Christine Forrester?