Fortune Favours The Brave

"Right," she said, pleased with her handiwork. "Now... what about up here? Hmmm... not as nasty as it looks, I don't think -- just a dab of antiseptic cream to be on the safe side."

She got the necessary ointment and unscrewed the lid. She squeezed gently but nothing seemed to come out.

"Of course! I need to break the seal," she said. She poked and prodded for a few seconds then squeezed again. Still nothing. She murmured in irritation, peered down the tube, and squeezed again. A large dollop of white cream shot out and landed on her cheek.

"Dammit!" she muttered. She reached up and took the cream from her face and began to rub it into my upper thigh. I watched intently. Something about the white cream oozing down her face... her fingers delicately massaging the moistness into my groin... the faintest musky aroma of girl scent... and now the accidental touch of her hand against my balls.

She stopped what she was doing.

"Oh goodness," she said. "I think we might be back in business."

**

We watched as my cock slowly but perceptibly grew. First it unrolled slightly. Then it began to lengthen and swell, and as it did so its angle began to creep upwards. I felt a proprietorial pride and a huge sense of relief.

The girl seemed quite transfixed by its progress. At one point it seemed to stall and she gave it an encouraging poke, and seemed delighted that it almost immediately resumed its ascent.

"I remember," she said rather dreamily, "when I was a little girl my parents used to hire a bouncy castle to have in the garden on my birthday. It was always so exciting when they switched the pump on and you'd see it slowly growing. My friends and I were always... so impatient to jump on and start bouncing around."

A few seconds later and the transformation was complete. It gleamed in the torchlight, a veritable totem pole of maleness. I could feel the Viagra now, there was a slight sense of disconnect between my penis and myself. This was an erection that meant business, it was here to stay now and any thoughts of feeble limpness were a distant memory.

"It's so much nicer than Rory's," breathed the girl.

This was something of a shock. "You've seen Rory's... are you... are you his girlfriend then?"

"God no!" This seemed to appall her. "I wouldn't touch him with a barge pole -- even a lovely one like this -- no, it was my insurance policy."

I must have looked confused because she expanded further. "People like Rory are so slippery. I knew he wouldn't think twice about dropping me in it if anything went wrong. So, when he asked me to open the window tonight, I said OK, but it would be five hundred and a full-length picture of him including his face, wearing nothing but ladies' stockings. That way he knew I'd have something on him. If he ratted on me, off that picture would go onto the world wide web and his life would be over."

"That's smart," I said, wishing I'd thought of something similar. She had sized up Rory much more astutely than I had.

"Thank you," said the girl. "Right, you'd better get on, hadn't you? Since you're... ready for action now."

I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, that I probably should. But I didn't want to be on my own again. And a guide would surely be helpful.

"Listen," I said. "I don't suppose you'd help me, would you? It would be much easier with someone else holding the camera. And you know your way around -- I could be done in half the time."

The girl hesitated. "I don't know... I should really get back upstairs before somebody misses me."

"I'll give you... another five hundred! And we'll be done in an hour if you help me. Maybe less."

She looked at me quizzically. "Five hundred? I don't like to think where you might be hiding it, but I can't see a wallet."

"Well, obviously I would have to pay you after. But I promise you you'd get it."

She looked at me thoughtfully. Then at my crotch. She chewed her lip for a moment, then made her decision.

"All right," she said. "Let's get started."

**

We were able to be much more creative with the library photo now. At her suggestion I tried balancing the warning sign about overdue fines on my now cheerfully erect member, and I'm pleased to say that although the sign must have been a good six inches or so across, the top of my cock was still clearly visible peeking out at the end of it. I explained about keeping my face out of the photos and she also took that very seriously, adjusting and fine tuning my position several times until she was confident my anonymity was safe.

"Where to now?" I said, when she was finally satisfied.

"There's a statue in the hallway out here... I think that'd be perfect."

We crept through the darkness and into the hallway beyond the library. I was pleased to see the hallway boasted a carpet, so it was much less chilly than the library had been.

"Over there," she whispered. "It's Boadicea, the warrior queen. She's meant to inspire us, god knows why."

A bronze Boadicea stood on a chariot, one arm raised and pointing, presumably towards battle. The other was down at waist height, holding some reigns. I looked at it for a moment.

"I've got an idea," I whispered. "Shine the light up there."

She did so and I clambered up onto the base of the statue. My rock-hard cock kept banging against the cold metal, making an odd thunking sound as it did so.

"Be quiet," she hissed.

"Sorry... it's my... it's like a drumstick!"

I heard her sniggering at that.

I manoeuvred myself around the statue to where Boadicea was holding the reigns. I reached up and carefully positioned the newspaper between her fingers. Then I had to stretch slightly, and I pushed my cock slightly upward so it rested exactly where I wanted it.

"How's that," I said.

"Oh my god! That's brilliant! Don't move!"

She took several pictures, but she seemed to be laughing so much I wasn't confident they'd be usable.

"Hurry up," I said. "We need to keep moving!"

"Sorry... all done... we should win some kind of prize for this!"

I carefully removed my penis and descended back down to the ground with the newspaper.

"Show me," I said.

She passed me the phone and I examined the photo. I shouldn't have doubted her. She'd taken a very good photograph.

There stood Boadicea, brandishing a copy of today's newspaper in one hand while apparently giving a headless warrior with a bandaged knee a hand job with the other.

We looked at each other with justifiable pride.

"We're such a good team!" she said.

"I know... you're great with a camera!"

"Thank you," she said. "But that was a terrific idea."

I shrugged modestly. Then something struck me.

"I don't actually know your name," I said. "I'm Dan."

"Claire," she said, and stuck out her hand. We shook. My cock bobbed happily as we did so, and she looked at it affectionately.

"Where to now?" I said.

Claire thought. "The staircase," she said.

**

Claire's initial idea was to have me sliding down the wooden bannisters. But I pointed out the impracticalities and dangers of this, particularly when naked and very erect, and she agreed it probably wasn't worth the risk.

"I would hate for you to get a splinter in it," she said. "That would be awful."

"You'd have to suck it out," I said solemnly.

She punched me gently in the ribs. "In your dreams! You can suck it yourself."

"Don't think I haven't tried," I said, and she sniggered again. Then she pulled herself together. "Come on! We need to think."

"Well... not every picture needs to be a masterpiece like Boadicea. How about we just have me lying on the stairs, the paper beside me... and we'll need something covering my face."

We looked around the hallway. Up the stairs. The same idea came to us at the same time.

"Perfect!" she said.

**

The founder of St Agatha's was, apparently, a rather humourless and almost certainly sexless old crone called Harriet Milward. Harriet had buckets of money and absolutely zero sense of fun, and about a hundred or so years ago she had used her money to establish the college but with a large number of conditions attached. Harriet didn't want any future generations having fun either -- hence the curfews and the no men in rooms with doors shut, etc.

At the top of the stairs was a large portrait of Harriet gazing down formidably through her pince-nez glasses. It was a heavy painting and it took both of us to lift it off the wall. Thankfully no alarms went off -- but then nobody in their right mind, I felt, would really want to steal her.

Now I held the portrait in front of me, struggling rather with its weight while lower down Claire fussed over the picture. She seemed dissatisfied.

"It's nearly perfect.... Just move the picture down a bit more."

"I can't," I whispered back rather impatiently. "It's resting on top of my stomach as it is."

"It's just... your... well, your cock is a bit hard to see."

"Sorry," I said. "It'll just have to do."

There was a brief pause. I heard the click of a picture, then a tut of irritation.

"No... that's no good."

"Come on," I said.

"Just one more... do you think... is there anyway you can make it a bit bigger?"

"What?"

"Your cock. Is that as big as it gets?"

"How much bigger do you want it?" I asked indignantly.

"No, I mean it's lovely, but if there was just a quarter of an inch more... it would just be perfect."

"I'm not sure if that's possible," I said. "Maybe we could photoshop it later?"

"No! Hold on... let me try something, but don't get any ideas."

I heard her put the phone down and come forward towards me. I held onto Harriet and wondered what Claire was up to. A few seconds later I grunted in surprise as a small hand wrapped itself around my penis on the other side of the portrait. The hand began to stroke me gently.

"What are you doing?"

"Just seeing if I can make it a teeny bit bigger. Is that helping?"

"Um... I guess... maybe a little bit tighter with your hand?"

The grip duly tightened. "How's that?"

"Better," I muttered. "Really... quite good."

"For god's sake don't, you know... come."

"I won't. Is it working?"

"I think so. It looks a bit bigger. Let me go back and try again."

I almost groaned aloud as the hand let go. I heard Claire scurrying back down the stairs.

"So close... just a little bit more."

She hurried back and took hold of me again, more roughly this time.

"Hey! Gently!"

"Sorry... but time's getting on."

Her hand worked away at me. I clutched the picture tight and closed my eyes.

"I'm going to try something else. But only because this is an emergency."

I wasn't sure this quite constituted an emergency, but I let it go. Then I gasped aloud as I felt a warm wetness around my cock.

"Jesus Christ!"

The wetness disappeared. "Sssh!"

"Are you... is that.... Are you sucking me off?"

"I'm administering some oral sex, yes. But on no account are you to come, understand? If you come in my mouth I will punch you in the face through this portrait."

"OK," I said. "Fine. Just... go back to what you're doing."

The warm wetness returned. It was glorious, though my arms were beginning to ache from holding the picture for so long.

She did that for about thirty seconds then stopped.

"That looks really good," she murmured. "I think we've got it."

I heard her darting back down the stairs. A few seconds, and then there was a soft click from the camera phone.

"Perfect! And the moisture on it really makes it gleam!"

"Oh good," I said faintly. "Now can you help me put this fucking picture back before my arms fall off?"

**

She was right about the photo. She'd got it so that the tip of my shining cock was just in view, and it looked as if Harriet was peering at it suspiciously through her glasses.

"Well," she said. "Wasn't it worth the extra effort it took?"

"You're a genius," I said. "And er, your mouth was lovely."

She looked pleased, though I don't know if it was the compliment about the photograph or the oral sex. Possibly both.

Putting the picture back proved much harder than getting it down in the first place. We just couldn't get the wire to snag on the wall hooks. Eventually we did it, though we were both sweating a little by the time we did.

"Right," I said. "Where next?"

Then there was the sound of a door opening upstairs. A switch clicked on and light spread on the landing above us.

We looked at each other in horror. It was Claire who reacted first.

"Follow me! Quick!"

We made our way down the stairs as quickly but as quietly as we could. Opposite the stairs on one wall were some heavy drapes. Claire pulled them aside and we shot behind them, finding ourselves in a tiny alcove only about three feet across. There wasn't enough room for us to stand with our backs to the wall so we had to turn sideways, Claire facing the right-hand wall and me standing directly behind her.

There was the sound of somebody coming along the landing towards the top of the stairs. Then another door opened.

"What is it, Margaret?"

"I thought I heard some sounds, Mabel."

"What kind of sounds?"

"Scraping sounds. On the wall by my bedroom. I wondered if perhaps somebody was trying to steal the portraits."

Bugger fuck bugger, I thought. I was still breathing heavily, partly from my exertions with the picture, partly from the frantic scramble to hide, and partly from fear.

"Sssh," hissed Claire. "Be quiet!"

Well, that was easy to say. My lungs wanted oxygen.

But as it turned out though I had another, more pressing problem to deal with.

I was pushed right up against Claire's back. There was no way we could move around without touching the drapes and giving away our location.

And my cock was pressed right up against her backside. Not vertically, either. I mean, it would have been fine if it had just been resting in the crack of her ass, or something. But in our hurry to hide, my cock had been trapped almost horizontally, angled ever so slightly downwards. It was like I was trying to spear Claire through her bottom.

She tried to wriggle free but that only made it worse. I became very aware that there was only her very thin nightdress between the tip of my cock and her asshole.

"Move that somewhere else!" she whispered angrily. "I don't do that! At least, not until I know you quite a lot better!"

"I can't! Can you... lift yourself up a bit?"

"No! I'm on tiptoe already!"

OK then. I would have to be the one to move. I slowly began to slide myself downwards. There wasn't much room, but I was able to slide down a few inches. For a moment my trapped cock pushed even harder against her -- I feared it might even break through the material, and then we would be in very new and interesting territory -- but after a second it sprang free and bounced joyously upwards.

Claire sighed with relief and relaxed back down

"No!" I said urgently. "Don't do that!"

But it was too late. Now my cock sprang up again and this time found itself happily ensconced between her legs. It had also caught the bottom of her nightdress and had lifted it upwards, meaning that there was now literally nothing between us. I could feel a delightful soft warmness along the top of my penis. Claire gave a little gasp.

I had other things to worry about, however.

Mabel and Margaret were inspecting the portrait of their benefactor.

"Harriet's picture is definitely crooked," declared Margaret.

"Yes," said Mabel. "Shall we call the police? Whoever it is might still be on the premises."

"We shall look foolish if this turns out to be a false alarm, Mabel. I think we should investigate a little further. Let us check the rest of the downstairs rooms first."

I could hear them coming down the stairs.

Claire's breathing seemed to have got quite ragged. She began moving her hips, almost imperceptibly at first, but with definite intent. The end result was that my cock began to find itself being rubbed along the lips of her pussy.

"Keep still!"

"I... can't....!"

"Did you hear something Mabel?"

"No... no... what did you think you heard?"

"A sort of... moaning noise. Perhaps it was just the wind. We should check the library first, I think."

A few moments later they had gone, though we probably didn't have long before they were back.

Claire was still rocking gently against me.

"Claire, stop that!"

"I can't... it feels so nice. Could you... put it in me? Just for a second?"

"No! We need to get out of here!"

But Claire wasn't a girl who was used to being denied. Somehow she reached down between her legs and pushed firmly. With a delightful pop my cock shot up inside her, and she gasped aloud.

"Oh yes! Fuck yes! That's just... wonderful."

"Sssh! They'll hear you! I think they're coming back!"

They were. I could hear them padding back down the corridor.

"Well, perhaps it was a false alarm." That was Mabel. I liked Mabel.

"Yes... possibly." Margaret did not sound very convinced. I did not like Margaret.

Claire's buttocks twitched against my hips as she gently moved to and fro against me. She was wonderfully tight and wet and in any other circumstances I would have been delirious at my good fortune. But all I could see was a spell in a police cell, expulsion and public humiliation.

If only these two nosy women would sod off back to bed. Then Claire and I could find a nice quiet corner, we could fuck each other's brains out, take a couple more photographs, and I would be home and free and considerably richer.

"I really think we should go back to bed, Margaret." God bless you Mabel, I thought, as I felt Claire's cunt muscles contract slightly against me and she gave a little groaning sound. Don't come now, I prayed. For god's sake don't come now.

"Well, Mabel, I would be very happy to go back to bed. But I am just a little puzzled by a few small things."

Claire began to rock a little faster.

"Really Margaret? What are they?"

Yes, I thought desperately. What the fuck are they, Margaret?

"Well... there is this copy of today's local newspaper, for one thing."

Oh fuck.

"This mobile phone, for another."

Double fuck.

And still Margaret was not quite finished.

"Most of all, there is this trail of fresh blood spots along the carpet. I can't help noticing, Mabel, that they seem to lead behind those curtains."

It was just then that Claire started to come.

Some women have very discreet, almost silent climaxes. I'm sure they enjoy them, and I certainly don't mean to criticise. But for their partners such climaxes can feel a little disappointing. You've put in the work, it's nice to get rewarded with some really heartfelt loud noises and exclamations.

Claire did not fall into the discreet category. Her future partners need have no concerns about a lack of audible confirmation and appreciation. Indeed, if there was a scientific study of the noise women make while they orgasm, Claire would be firmly up at the opposite end.

"OH FUCK ME I'M COMING!"

"Goodness - what was that, Margaret?"

Claire's muscles clamped tightly around me. This was too much. Usually my orgasms approach from a distance but this one suddenly arrived from nowhere. But then, it was an evening of firsts in all sorts of ways.

"Oh fuck... I'm coming too... Jesus!" I did at least try and keep my voice down.

"I believe our burglars are behind these curtains Mabel. You hold this poker while I pull them back. Do not hold back if they turn violent, Mabel. And you in there -- no funny business now!"

"GOD HELP ME I AM COMING SO MUCH! JESUS... FUUUCKK!" Claire was still going strong.

Margaret pulled back the curtain. She gazed at us in disbelief. Behind her, Mabel dropped the poker.

"Good evening," I said politely, if a little breathlessly.

"Good heavens," said Mabel faintly.