David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 08

Marianne Martineau and Nadia Brun nudged me with their knees and pointed to their skirt hems. They both stood against me with their legs apart. I understood from the way they looked down at me that they wanted my hands up their uniforms. The eighteen-year olds glared at me impassively as I knelt in front of them peering up. I slid my hands along their inner legs starting at their shoes and progressed symmetrically trying to judge my speed so that I would attain both goals at the same time.

Nadia nudged me again to hurry up. My hands felt the heat from between their legs as my fingers caressed their way inside their skirts and petticoats. The smoothness of their stockings made way to the soft but firm flesh of their inner thighs which appeared hot and clammy. One of them had a lacy crotch, the other had a smooth silky crotch I tried to rub their clefts at the same speed and pressure but being right handed I could only manage to stimulate the lacy crotch which happened to be Nadia's.

Her white lacy panties were well and truly damp and I lifted her skirt with my head and joined my hand to see what I had done. In the semi-darkness I could smell the familiar smell of fresh musky vagina juice as my nostrils pushed their way between her legs and I savoured the aroma like a playful puppy. She smelled so fresh and wholesome and in every way her female scent was of a hundred percent aroused woman.

Several others stood around me and dropped their skirts over my head, and bending their knees pulled my face into their crotches. Again I could not understand why women did this. Was it some sort of primitive fertility rite, were they proving that they were sexually receptive? I did not mind this type of open skirt-flirting and found it incredibly erotic.

Yvette Duchesne, my shower-partner, pushed her black nylon knees into me and lifted up then dropped her skirt and petticoat over my upturned face. Her underwear was exquisitely trimmed in a modern day version of Point de Gaze and Gros Point. Her petticoat appeared far too ornate for everyday school wear and I was impressed by its intricacy. Her matching suspender belt clearly showed me that this girl came from a wealthy, possibly aristocratic, background. Perhaps her forebears had escaped 'Madame Guillotine.'

Louise Bazaine pushed herself against my face, lifted her pleated skirt and dropped it over my head. I was trapped between her inner skirt and white full-skirted petticoat. I pushed forward and felt my cheek brush against knobbly suspender fastenings which were concealed by the slippery nylon material of her underslip. I rubbed my face against her thighs through her petticoat and experienced the seductive hissing sound of silky nylon slip sliding over fine denier nylons.

Before I could continue further with my underkirt exploration I felt another kick in my ribs and it was Isabelle Lenoir standing in her four inch stiletto heels staring down at me. She pushed herself firmly against me and parted her legs. She kicked me again.

She told me to "Poussez votre tete sous ma jupe," which clearly meant that she wanted my head under her skirt. Who was I to argue with a lady?

(Continued in part nine)