David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 11

Facing me and looking down she told me to "Shtick outh thyour tongue," which I did. "Further upth and hold it there" she ordered.

I thought that this 'docking procedure' would have to be very precise as most of me was hidden from her gaze by her skirt and supporting petticoats which stuck out almost horizontally from her waist. She placed one shoe next to my face and swung the other one over. I now had a clear view between her legs. I kept my tongue out as her derriere slowly descended upon my face along with all the many masses of white lace and nylon which thrashed around me and over me. She squatted forward until my tongue was at the entrance to her vagina. I wiggled it about and she lowered herself so that the hard pillow beneath my head pushed my nose into her soft pubic hair.

"Geth goingth Misther Thom," she lisped sweetly as I began licking her outer lips like a big lollipop. Her fishnet stockings rubbed against me and again the felt remarkably coarse. Her vagina odour was formidably strong and it took hardly any time for her juices to flow."

"Go on Samantha, ride his face as if he was a racehorse, of you go, faster and firmer, off you go," encouraged Miss Wiff-Naseford urging her on.

I pleasured Miss Samantha Skirving-Thorpe within ten minutes of her 'mounting' my face. We started off at a 'walk', then a 'brisk trot', then a 'rising trot', then a 'canter' and finally 'galloped' to her crushing crashing orgasm.

I lay in my usual fettered immobile position in the middle of the room with the daughter of the Honorable Mrs. Helena Clarissa Evelyn Skirving-Thorpe sprawled over me. Her legs wrapped round my neck , her petticoats, skirt, loose suspender belt and other under trappings spread out half over me and her little 'ladyship' gasping for air. My face was sloppy with her vaginal-juices and I needed a rigorous wipe down.

"Where on earth is matron?" I wondered. The girl gradually clambered off me stabbing me three times accidentally with her spike heels, fortunately not seriously, and made her way unsteadily towards the headmistress's door

My ramrod stiff erection was still straining for relief.

"Now little 'French Maids' we are going to have further fun with Tom. You will each have two minutes to make Tom 'come' using only your pert derrieres and your little feather dusters. Kate can go first. "I will time you. Said the insane head teacher.

Kate click, click, clicked over to me and gyrated her hips flicking her petticoats from side to side under her black taffeta dress. She swiveled round and stepped over my face, this time facing my feet. She squatted down the knelt astride my chest and pushed her ruffled pettipants firmly into my nose.

She pulled her buttock cheeks widely apart and pushed back, and released her grip so that my nose was tightly trapped amongst the nylon lace ruffles. I could hardly breathe. I was immediately assailed by her vaginal odour and my penis strained to even greater heights.

She pushed her skirt and net petticoats all around me and pulled together her stilettos so that her heels gripped me by my neck. I could not move a single inch. Suddenly I felt the light touch of the feather duster along my thighs and over my stomach. She deliberately teased me by not touching my most sensitive tip.

Over and around she moved her duster as my penis jerked about seeking attention. Above my face her huge derriere straddled me. Her bodily odours appeared trapped amongst all the frills and lace of her flounces. Her constant wriggling assailed every fibre of my being. This heavy long-legged Kate Randall certainly knew what she was doing. I was on the brink of coming, the very brink.

"Right, time's up, next. Miss Laing please," croaked the headmistress now clearly drunk.

I watched Kate lift her delicious nylon clad buttocks off my face and stared spellbound at the way her petticoats gave her grace and poise as she swung off to the other side of the room. I was again poised for my orgasm. Two minutes may not be enough.

Susan Laing stepped over me and placed her black high heeled shoes on either side of my head facing my feet. Her knickers were clearly stained by vaginal juices. She knelt over me, straddled my chest and reversed her bottom into my face. Immediately she moved her feather duster over my genitals. I felt my penis twitch again. I felt the delicious weight of her body over my body as her petticoats swished and scratched around me, the lace hems stimulating every part of my naked body. I was holding back willing her to stimulate me more.

"Thank you Susan, now can we have Miss Skrivling-Harp next please?" Miss Wiff-Naseford slurred clearly having 'lost the plot'.

Clatter, clatter. clatter. Clatter clatter

Up popped Miss Samantha Skirving-Thorpe in a somewhat dainty trot. She shook her skirt and petticoats at me, walked over and placed her stilettos to either side of my head looking towards my desperate erection. I thought that this has got to be it. I was going to make maximum use of her two minutes to make myself come.

Samantha knelt down squatting over my face then knelt forward so her knees straddled my upper torso. She moved backwards, flipping up her skirt and petticoat and covered my head. Again I was in a white frilly lacy underskirt space where her strong vaginal odours remained trapped. I saw her fingers reach under and pull her buttock cheeks apart then ease herself into my nose and then let go so that my nose was gripped against her ruffles. I then felt her pulling her skirt down and firmly forward in order to push my face further under her and into her.

She started on me with the feather duster. Around my genitals it went tickling and tantalizing. I strained hoping that she would attack my knob end with sufficient force to make me come. I wanted to come so badly.

Then it happened. I felt the feathers sliding up and down slowly in one direction then in another direction up and down my shaft, up and down, up and down, I thought Miss W-N would interrupt. It must have been longer than two minutes, I could not tell. I relaxed and allowed Samantha Skirving-Thorpe to continue with the constant barrage of sensations.

I breathed in her vaginal scent luxuriating in the thought of having a long-legged aristocratic nineteen-year old school girl wearing a French Maid's uniform sitting on my face and trapping me with her lacy net petticoats.

It was at that point I felt hot semen begin to rise deep down inside, well up, and spurt in seven enormous thrusts. Gobs and threaded strings were ejected across my lower chest and stomach and gather in tiny warm globules,shining,spreading.

Samantha Louise Victoria Phoebe Skirving-Thorpe, was clearly impressed with her achievement and, looking behind her.

"Lookth Mith Wifth- Nathford I've made the 'Peeping Thom' have a 'fountain'." she said to her headmistress in her delightful little girly voice, waking her up suddenly from an alcohol induced sleep.

It had been ten long, glorious minutes since this French Maid had began wanking me. It was 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. I however felt immense relief and lay there panting beneath this huge doll-like beauty. I savoured her weight and warmth on me and perhaps, maybe perhaps, I would survive to orally pleasure the whole damn school.

(Continued in part twelve)