David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 12

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Thorilla
Thorilla
572 Followers

"Enough. Enough," shouted Miss Wiff-Naseford clearly at last seeing that my head was being used almost like a rugby-ball in a loose-scrum under the girls dress and that I was suffering from severe stress.

"Off you get Miss Forrester, now please," she told the girl in an abrupt voice.

She reluctantly let go of me and stood up. The light was intense as I emerged from the darkness under her red dress. Fresh cool air hit me and I gasped in exhaustion lying back, my face completely covered in her vaginal juices and smelling strongly of female genitalia. I was desperate for some rest and still did not know what had happened to matron and her soothing flannels. I licked my lips but all I could taste was drying vaginal slime. My mouth was very dry. My penis was taking a rest too and reverted back to its flaccid state.

"Now it's Victoria Gregory isn't it?" Amelia Wiff-Naseford said to another tall, very slim, willowy girl walking towards me.

'Kerlunk, kerlunk, kerlunk' went her black lace-up ankle length boots as she stood to one side of me looking somewhat disgusted at the sorry sticky mess I was in.

"...and how are your parents Victoria? I remember your father told me that you were hoping to join him in his family business," continued the headmistress clearly emerging from her drunkenness.

"Yes, that's right Miss Wiff-Naseford," said the young lady pulling up her skirt at the back. "He has openings for junior accountants and now that I have finished my training I shall be joining him shortly," she remarked, pulling down her white cotton lacy bloomers to her knees.

"Well I am very pleased that things are going your way," said Miss Wiff-Naseford watching the six-foot one-inch nineteen year old stepping out of her warm knickers.

"My sister is already working with him as a senior auditor," she said placing her feet on either side of my face. I stared up at her black pubic hair, just visible amongst the whiteness of her petticoat which was framed by her naked thighs above her stockings.

"Really Victoria and it does not seem that long ago since she left our school." Miss Gregory pulled her skirt and petticoat up to her waist and squatted slowly on top of me so that her vagina rested firmly on my nose and mouth.

"She must have achieved very good grades in her accountancy exams then?" continued Miss Wiff-Naseford as I began easing apart the nineteen year olds lips with insistent movements with my tongue.

"Yes she was 'best' in her year," the girl continued as she dropped her Cancan petticoats over my face, followed by her dark red dress which instantly plunged me into darkness and muffled silence.

"Well I remember her being very good at deportment and pronunciation," the headmistress continued as I stimulated the girl's moist cleft with searching probing, delving and long licks and flicks concentrating on her clitoral hood.

Above me the tall nineteen year old was clearly reacting to my incessant tonguing.

"...and also she was clever at cooking. I shall always remember when she and Angela Fenton prepared a Sunday lunch for the governors...," the head teacher whittled on apparently oblivious of my fervent activities beneath the Cancan schoolgirls costume.

Above me slimy sexual lubrication flowed slowly onto my face, into my mouth and over my nose. The enclosed atmosphere beneath her dress was full of the warm fragrance of female secretions. I was drawn towards the now familiar sweet scent again and nuzzled and probed her until she opened herself completely to me. I stared, in the gloom, at perhaps the fleshiest vaginal opening I had ever seen.

Her lips protruded towards me, almost sucking me in. I buried my nose up to my nostrils inside her lips, luxuriating in the very core of her femininity. She in turn rubbed herself enthusiastically up and down my face and my nose felt lost amongst the many folds of her labia. The continuous swishing sounds of petticoats against the inner surface of her Cancan dress drove me slowly wild with intense pleasure.

My erect penis again probed the air friutlessly for sexual release, jerking occasionally; pre-cum again was forming on my exposed glans.

"......If I remember your sister and Angela prepared a very good fresh tomato soup with basil and coriander, followed by..." Miss Wiff-Naseford was interrupted by Victoria Gregory pushing herself onwards towards gratification.

"Yes, yes, yes yes," she whimpered noticeably speeding up her pelvic thrusts against me.

"....And Victoria I think your sister served a very good roast loin of pork with apple and pear sauce. Most enjoyable. I remember the Reverend Selby asking for second helpings....."

"Ooh, grunt, ooh, grunt, ooh grunt," continued the girl above me evidently taking little heed of her headmistress's ramblings and twittering.

Her skirts and petticoats were flying over me know. The tempo had been increased to an almost violent pace. Once again I felt that my facial features were merely protuberances upon which this nineteen year old, long legged creature in her Cancan petticoats was going to bring herself off. The pace suddenly quickened, I heard her gasp, gasp again then shudder, while pulling my face further into her. She came in a juddering spasm which lasted many seconds.

My face was totally and completely bathed in her female juices. My hair was sticky with her slimy secretions, even my ears seemed to be full of her vaginal spendings. She held my head tightly like a vice against her, using her thighs to prevent me from moving, while gently calming herself down, slowly recovering from her pleasure.

I, on the other hand, was fighting for breath and fresh clean air. I jerked my head wildly, snorted and tried to shout but my mouth was blocked by her engorged lips and pubic hair. The more I struggled the tighter she held me.

The headmistress had fallen asleep.

Just as I thought that I would drown in the young-woman's juices she stood up and walked away. I felt completely drained and sexually frustrated. My penis returned to its flaccid state once again having been denied its orgasm.

One of the Cancan dancers clunked her way over to the headmistress and poked her in the ribs. Immediately she awoke and looked around the room, unsure whether all four of the dancers had been 'pleasured' or not. She appeared to be counting on her fingers and gave a quick furtive look at me and smiled to herself and clapped loudly for attention.

"Now then 'Cancan girls' Mr. Peeping Tom here is in need of a damn good' wanking', now which one of you is best at 'tossing off'?" she asked in language which appeared totally out of place in a Girls' Finishing School.

The girls whispered to themselves and giggled. One of them raised her hand.

"I am Miss," said Christine Forrester.

I could have guessed so for she once owned seven dildos.

"Well Miss Forrester, good, good, now make him come, go on use your imagination girl, and the rest of you use some imagination as well, we haven't got all day. Now get on with it," said Miss Wiff-Naseford looking at the forlorn heap in front of her strapped down to her floor.

I was a very miserable sight indeed. My sweaty body ached and I stank strongly of vagina. My hair was sticky and lank. My face felt very sore and my neck was incredibly stiff. Between my outspread legs my penis lay in a small sad dried pool of semen and precum. I was also badly in need of a shave.

Whatever the girls had to offer me I did not think I had the physical strength to have an orgasm but certainly needed one for sure in order to release all of my frustrations.

The familiar clunk, clunk, clunk of four pairs of high-heeled ankle boots heralded the approach of the nineteen year old Cancan dancers. They stood around my head looking down at my face and body. From my floor level view point these six-footers appeared like amazons and once again I felt very vulnerable.

Christine Forrester stood between my parted legs and squatted down. I watched her and she stared back. She looked cheekily at me and had a fresh complexion compared with my disheveled appearance. I felt her gloved hand run circles around my stomach and thighs; she gently massaged the inside of my legs where my scrotal sac was attached to my groin. Within seconds my penis began to stiffen.

She continued further with her gloved caressing. Over and over again she made circles around my genitals but did not actually touch them.

The other three Cancan dancers squatted down on their heels around me and gloved hands began caressing my neck and chest from all angles. I felt one of them, behind me, shuffle forward, placing her boots against the top of my head. Above me I could see her outspread knees supported her dress and cotton lace petticoat which she draped over my head so that I could not see.

With both hands she dragged her skirt and petticoat across my face, backwards and forwards creating a swishing scratching sound as her lace rubbed against my stubbled face. Backwards and forwards went her petticoat across my face, backwards and forwards.

Christine continued with her light tantalizing caresses around my now fully erect penis. Once again the focus of my sexual being was jerkingly searching in vain for relief.

Then, I felt her touch my exposed tip. Once, twice then three times she touched it teasing it then continued with massaging my thighs, again steering clear of my manhood.

Someone began licking my left nipple and moaning girlish groans. I could not hear clearly because of the swish, swishing sounds of petticoat lace over me. I felt another mouth on my right nipple sucking and teasing, licking the hairs on my chest.

Between my legs I felt hot breath and the flick of a rough tongue on my glans. A gloved hand cupped my testicles while another held the base of my penis. The nipple licking and sucking continued which was becoming almost excruciatingly unbearable. I cringed with pleasure and tried to push them away but gloved hands held me firmly down.

I felt the tongue again moving over the sensitive head of my straining penis, it moved up and down in long deliberate upward movements and little flicks near the edge and around my foreskin. A hand joined the tongue and together they began sliding and slurping up and down my hard shaft.

For several long intensely stimulating minutes this continued. The sounds of lace passing over my mouth, nose and chin and the exquisite agony of having my nipples sucked and licked by two of the girls took me to the very brink of pleasure. I held myself back as my erection was now being vigorously pumped by Christine Forrester's clearly expert fingers. Her pumping was amazing. How did someone so young know just what to do? I was in a dreamworld of intense pleasure.

By now Christine was also enthusiastically sucking the tip of my erection allowing it to push against her lips on every upstroke. I bucked my pelvis up and down trying to push myself in between but she pulled away. She kept up her teasing, pulling away every time I tried to enter her girlish mouth. I pushed again and again but she denied me entrance. Her pumping continued, up and down, up and down with her silk glove.

All I could feel were her moist lips on my glans as she continued pumping. Her licking continued and I held back, and held back further, my teeth were clenched as I held myself back.

Then she sucked me into her in one movement and I felt myself inside her smooth warm mouth. Almost immediately I felt seminal fluid rise inside as me as I jerked five hot spurts of warm semen into her beautiful young face. It was all over and I felt drained once again.

My testicles were empty and 'milked dry', or so it seemed. Flat on my back I stared up at the ceiling gasping uncontrollably as the Cancan dancers slowly stood up and shook their dresses down.

Judith Dodd touched my face gently with her boot and asked if I was alright. I smiled back at her staring upher petticoat under her dress and told her I needed a shower and something to eat. She told me that it was almost time for their evening meal.

Miss Wiff-Naseford became surprisingly anxious and animated as she observed the hour. "Goodness me girls, is that the time?" she loudly exclaimed, "Quickly now, off you go to the refectory."

The clunk, clunk sound of heels and the quick whispering and backward glances towards me, were the last I heard or saw of the four Cancan dancers as they sped off to their 8.00 pm dinner.

"Just you and I left Tom," said Miss Wiff-Naseford still suffering the effects of several gins and tonic. "What a day Tom, what a day!!"

She pushed her drunken body off her chair and staggered unsteadily towards me. I was aware that she might trip or fall and in my trapped position tethered to the floor I was in no position to catch her.

She stood next to me, slowly swaying, and reached up behind her and pulled up her long tweed pleated skirt. I heard the smooth scratchy swish sound of pink nylon panties sliding over dark nylon stockings as she pulled down her knickers and stepped out of them.

Once more she placed one shoe on one side of my face and uneasily and inelegantly positioned her other shoe on the other. She hitched up her skirt and lowered herself onto me, almost stumbling as she did so, steadying herself by holding onto my temples.

There in front of me was her now familiar slimy vagina awaiting my tongue. She pulled her skirt and nylon underslip over me as far as they would go and told me to begin licking her between her legs. I began delving and probing her but it did not last long as she keeled over to one side and promptly fell asleep, spread-eagled on top of me.

I was overtaken by a feeling of complete horror as I thought that I might remain there until she woke up, which could be for several hours. I was desperate to use the loo and also needed a shower and something to eat. Miss Wiff-Nasefords shoe dug into my face and, as much as I tried, I could not dislodge it. We lay like that for some time until I heard a soft knock on the door.

I yelled out, "Come-in," and in walked Matron, this time dressed smartly for dinner in a charcoal grey plaid pleated skirt and blue cardigan and matching blouse.

"Oh Amelia what's happened?" she asked the now snoring headmistress.

I explained to her about the gin and Matron helped her, then me to our feet. I was led away to the staff shower room and left there to clean myself off. Meanwhile Matron helped Miss Wiff-Naseford into the dining refectory where everyone was waiting. From the shower I could hear the clatter of knives and forks and hubbub of conversation and judged that the large echoing dining refectory could not be very far way.

I finished drying myself and Matron reappeared with an electric razor and my clothes which she had found in Miss Wiff-Naseford's study. It was again a case of 'Matron to the rescue.'

She told me that I was expected at the high table and that they had reserved a meal for me.

I was beginning to once again enjoy being the resident 'Peeping Tom' at Dentwood School and wondered whether I would eventually spend the night with twenty 'French tennis-players' in their dormitory that night.

Who knows what would happen next.

(Continued in part thirteen)

Thorilla
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