The Headmaster's Office 01

I sagged forward, spent, and went to kiss him softly on the lips. He allowed the briefest kiss and then slid his hand out and pushed me gently backwards. I could see his pants and they now looked like a circus tent.

"But what about you," I asked.

"I can wait," he whispered. "But I think I might be stuck behind this desk for a while. Come see me when Miss Strachan leaves."

I climbed down from the desk, straightened myself up as best I could manage and then escaped quickly through the outer office. I cleaned up and cooled down some more in the toilets before meeting the other girls in the cafeteria, and I must have done a reasonable job because nobody commented.

"How's No-Panty-Tuesday, B'lin?" Trish giggled. "Any sightings, yet?"

"No," I mused. "No sightings." I smiled cryptically and they looked at each other, confused.

Chapter 4 (Mf/Shaving/Oral/Deepthroat)

The afternoon passed in a blur. I don't remember much about it and had almost forgotten that I was flashing my pussy every time I sat down. I don't think anyone saw; I'm pretty sure there would have been a commotion -- not that I would have noticed.

My mind was swimming with three competing thoughts. One would follow the other and then they would cycle back to the beginning again, over and over.

One: did he mean what I think he meant? Was I really just a few short hours away from my first fuck with a man? Or did he mean that my behaviour was slutty and unladylike and I needed extra tuition?

Two: If we were going to fuck -- and I was pretty sure we would -- I was almost bursting to make it happen. I wanted to know what a real cock felt like inside me. I knew from Brad and my one grope of Mr Gallows that a cock is not like a dildo; it pulses and throbs with a mind of its own. I was used to complete control of whatever was in my pussy but on this, I would have none at all. He would have control of one end and God alone would control what happened at the other end. I was trying to imagine what it would be like and just couldn't.

Three: And this one would come along hot on the heels of thought number two -- how big is he? He must be long; otherwise, I wouldn't have felt it down his thigh. Long is good. I took the eighteen inch double-ended Silver home for the holidays and now I can take a little over seven inches without any pain. Mr Gallows was surely bigger than seven inches but I thought he would be gentle with me. My greatest worry was that I had no idea how thick it would be. Like I said before, I don't like thick dildos. I'm so small and so tight, it takes me half the night just to get it in and I'm kind of over it by then. What if he couldn't even get it in? What happens then? I think I would just die.

The end of the day finally came and I made some excuse to separate from the girls returning to the boarding house. I waited behind a tree in the car park outside the office and from my vantage point, I could see inside, so I knew Miss Strachan was still there. After what felt like an eternity, she came out swinging her key, got into her car and drove away. A few seconds later, the door opened and I saw Mr Gallows. He looked left and right but didn't see me, then he turned and closed the door again. What now?

I saw the venetian blinds flip closed, first in the outer office and then in the Heads' office. Surely this was my cue. I looked around myself to make sure the coast was clear and then sprinted across the car park and through the door, locking it behind me.

"Come in, Belinda. I'm glad you're here," I heard through his doorway. His voice sounded calm and confident. I'm pretty sure mine wouldn't be so I said nothing but walked tentatively over to the open doorway.

He was behind his desk like before but pulled even closer in to the desk, so all I could see was his slim upper body down to his stomach.

"Now Belinda, I believe we were discussing your clothing."

All of a sudden, I had the dreadful fear that my first recurring thought would come true; he would blame me for what happened at lunchtime and this would be correction for my sluttiness. I put a hand down to block the view between my thighs and sat opposite, pulling my chair in to hide my embarrassing hemline.

"I'd like to discuss your school dress first."

Shit. Here we go. "Sir, I can explain," I started quickly. "I just came back from holidays and I'd grown ... um ... I mean ... my shape is a bit different and I didn't have money for the Uniform shop and then my Mum finally sent me some but now the shop is closed until Wednesday and ...." I was babbling and I felt my face burning with shame, for my dress and for what happened at lunchtime, which must have been my fault.

I looked up at him and stopped. He was leaning back with one hand to his mouth covering a big grin. I've been had.

Then I noticed something strange: pants hanging on the back of Mrs Bingham's chair. He followed my gaze but kept covering the smile.

"Sir," I looked back at him. "Do you mind if I check something?"

"Please be my guest."

I pushed my chair back and ducked under the table. For a moment, I was frozen; I couldn't breathe and I couldn't move. Under the desk he was completely naked and holding his semi-erect penis in one open hand. I just gaped, my jaw hanging open. It was the most beautiful thing I think I have ever seen, laying fully over his open palm with at least the same length again hanging over the front. It had to be at least nine inches.

Recurring thought number one flew from my mind. I was in all kinds of trouble but none of it was the disciplinary kind. Likewise, recurring thought number three: his love handle wasn't as long as Silver, but it looked exactly as thick -- a nice tight fit.

That left recurring thought number two ricocheting around my brain, faster and faster, making me dizzy. I want to touch it I want to hold it I want to press it between my tits I want to kiss it I want it in my mouth I want it in my cunt I want to feel it plough into me I want to feel it explode deep inside me I want it to fill me up, fill me up until I spill over ...

I don't know how long I stayed down there staring, but when I came back up he hadn't moved.

"Sir?" I croaked, trying to regain some control.

"Yes?"

"About my dress. I will have a new one tomorrow. This one is going in the bin."

"That would be a shame, Belinda." He had taken the hand from his face and was smiling openly now.

"And my panties ..." I began.

"You do own some, don't you?"

I flushed again to the roots of my blonde hair. "Yes, Sir." I looked down at my bare legs, all too aware of my naked pussy barely covered by the thin cotton.

"Best you wear them at school then, don't you think?" He was trying not to laugh.

"Yes, Sir," I replied, relieved.

"But please feel free to come to me wearing whatever makes you comfortable."

I blushed again, but said nothing. What happens next?

"There's just one more clothing-related issue," he said getting serious again. "Your brassiere."

Sweet lord Jesus, is he really going to keep talking about clothing or can we cut the crap and skip to the fucking? He knows I've seen his cock in his hand. He knows that I know what we're both here for so how about we bypass the whole headmaster/schoolgirl bullshit and start feeding me that monster cock.

Well, that's what I thought. What I said was "Yes, Sir? What about it?" I quickly checked myself; my bra wasn't even visible. I hope he's not doing a Brad on me, I thought. If he chickens out, I don't think I could take control. I was too nervous about that pet python in his lap.

"Come closer and I'll show you," he beckoned to the desktop.

Oh, okay! This is progress. I don't know what he's doing but he's playing some kind of game with me. This isn't about my bra, it's about foreplay. Two can play at that game!

I pushed back my chair and -- unlike earlier today -- I climbed onto the desk slowly, one leg at a time. As low as it was, it was still mid-thigh for me, so I hooked one knee out to the side and held there for a moment -- half way up -- holding his gaze with my own eyes.

I was giving him a front row seat to the show of his life. My earlier anxiety had melted and my juices had started flowing again while staring at his cock. As I held my knee on the desktop with my thighs spread apart, I felt labia open like a flower. Oh, he was good. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but I thought I saw a little twitch in the corner of one.

Not good enough! Still not moving my body, I contracted my powerful pelvic floor muscles, winking at him with my pussy. I could feel my lips pull in tight and close with the pressure I was applying. I held it for a silent two-count and then released, opening up again.

It was enough. His eyes twitched down for the barest moment and then returned quickly back to mine. His adam's-apple bobbed as he swallowed and his ears reddened just a little. Satisfied, I finished climbing onto the desk, kneeling in front of him but sitting back on my heels as I smoothed my tiny school dress over my thighs. The show's over, Bud. Your move.

"Show me your bra, please Belinda."

Well, since you said 'please', I thought naughtily. I popped the first four buttons of my dress and slipped one shoulder out displaying the strap and one cup of my simple, white underwear.

"Lord in heaven, where on Earth did you get that?" he asked, his eyebrows narrowing.

"K-Mart," I responded, a bit indignant. Until last Christmas, I had barely needed a bra. I bought the cheapest ones I could and saved the clothing budget my Mum provided to buy shoes. When my bust magically filled out, it never occurred to me to do any different. I just traded up from AA to C cups.

He reached forward with his left hand and slid it gently beneath the cotton covering my right breast, brushing his palm deliciously across the nipple as he lifted it out. He squeezed gently, feeling its fullness press back against his grasp, and leaning forward he kissed the nipple and took it between his lips. Applying a firm suction, he flicked his tongue over the tip, sending little electric shocks through my breast as the areola hardened under his expert treatment.

I gasped with pleasure and leaned into his touch. "Harder. Bite it," I whispered, but without warning, he stopped sucking and that wonderful building pleasure deflated like a balloon. What the hell?

He popped my aching breast back into my K-Mart bra and buttoned me back up. I was confused and excited at the same time. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out.

"There. See what I mean?" he said.

"Huh?" I looked down at my breasts. The left one was smooth and rounded but the right clearly showed the outline of my nipple, which was standing erect and pointing straight at the villain who had made it that way.

"You nearly took my eyes out with those at lunchtime," he explained. "The same thing happens when you are cold. The classrooms in the old wing aren't heated and I can tell you from experience it's pretty damned hard to teach when all the girls in class are looking up you with their high-beams on. Get a properly padded bra. Something with decorative banding will help to spread the pressure."

"Point taken. Thank you." Looks like I was going to be dipping into the shoe-fund. "Any more sartorial advice, Sir? My sandals, perhaps?" I asked playfully.

Quick as a shot: "No. I think we can move on to grooming. Your hair ..." he paused.

I reached up and felt my honey-blonde locks. I had it cut in a sensible but stylish pixie-cut, swept to the side at the front. I thought it was pretty cool and a little bit sexy in a boyish way.

"What wrong with it?" I asked, a little bit hurt.

"Oh! Uh, nothing," he waved a hand dismissively. "It's quite beautiful. I'm not being clear; how to put this ...?" he paused, not sure how to proceed. "How's this: it is un-gentlemanly to be seen picking hairs from between one's teeth," he said reaching into the drawer beside his desk. "So a proper lady is careful to ensure that he is never exposed to the risk."

With that last sentence, he brought out a pump-pack of clear shaving gel and a disposable razor. Oh my! My former excitement returned in full force and a smile spread across my face.

"Is that for me?" I asked shyly. "Will you do it?"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course. It would be uncivil of me not to, since I brought it up."

Throwing the last scraps of timidity to the winds, I swung my legs out from beneath me, and scooting forward until my bottom was on the edge of the desk, I popped my ankles up onto his shoulders and leaned back on my elbows to watch his reaction.

He brought both hands up between my thighs and gently pushed them wider apart. My dress fell back to reveal the soft, blonde wisps covering my pussy and he pushed the hem further back to expose my flat belly, which was fluttering nervously beneath his touch.

He pumped a small amount of gel onto his fingers and massaged it gently through the short curls, taking care not to touch my open lips or the pink clitoris poking shyly out beneath its hood.

"Now what was that I thought I saw when you climbed onto the desk?" he asked.

"This?" I asked, flexing my pelvic floor again and winking at him.

"Extraordinary!" he whispered, his eyes boggling.

I knew it was a pretty unique trick. None of the other girls in the senior dorm could do it. We play a game called "Stalactites"; you stand with feet apart and a vibrator (switched off) in your pussy, the other girls hang weights from the end. The girl who can carry the most weight before the vibrator slips out, wins.

I've never lost and now nobody will play against me. Most girls can't even hold the weight of the vibrator; they try thicker dildos and bent G-spot vibes, but nothing helps. My tiny frame makes my pussy incredibly tight, so even soaking wet I can hold the weight of the vibrator without flexing.

My secret is pelvic floor exercises. My little brother is eight years younger than I am and after he was born my Mum suffered incontinence. She got me to help remind her to do pelvic floor exercises and it was fun to do them together. It's not kinky or anything; you just flex, hold, relax and repeat. You can do them watching TV, brushing your hair, whenever. I still do them now without even thinking. Six hours of class every day provides ample opportunity. My pelvic floor is so strong I can pick up a coin standing on its end with my pussy lips.

Mr Gallows placed a finger at my wet entrance, sending another shiver through me.

"Again" he said.

I did it again, closing over his fingertip and squeezing it. He pulled it out with slick plop of suction and I released again, smiling up at him. He reached under the table to adjust himself and took a hitching breath, looking up at the ceiling. "Lord, have mercy."

When he was back in control, he set to work with the razor, gently but thoroughly, until my mound and outer labia were completely smooth.

Putting the razor in the bin and reaching forward, he cupped my tiny bottom in his hands and lifted me to his mouth, softly tonguing my slit. He tilted his head to the side and licked more roughly and insistently across my open lips, kindling a ball of fire in the pit of my belly. He kept up this assault, occasionally dipping his tongue into me, varying the speed, depth and pressure until my breathing was coming in ragged gasps. I tilted my head back and even with my eyes tightly closed tears leaked out the corners and ran down my face.

Suddenly he shifted attention up to my clitoris, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. I felt the orgasm rise and fill my body with a buzzing heat. It built up slowly and then washed powerfully over me like a tidal wave, carrying me away and tumbling my body over and over until I didn't know which way was up.

Mr Gallows leaned back in his chair and delicately licked my juices from his lips. I recovered quickly and still desperate to feel his cock inside me, I sat up and slid forward off the desk straddling his lap.

"Whoa! Slow down," he admonished. "Who's in charge of this lesson?"

"You are, Sir," I said primly as I began removing his tie and unbuttoning his business shirt. Did I say he was reed slender? Oh, but I was s-o-o-o wrong. He does have a wiry frame, but it's covered with thick layers of ropy muscle. I ran my hands up from his six-pack stomach, across his bulging pecs and pushed the shirt back over his shoulders exposing hard trapezoids. Most guys with a bod this hot would pack it into a tight, slim-fit shirt that showed off their shape; I was surprised he kept his hidden behind loose clothes, but I guess a man in charge of several hundred impressionable young minds needs to set a standard. And what a standard he was setting so far!

He folded his huge hands around my narrow waist and lifted me neatly off him as he stood up, pushing the chair backwards as he set me down on my feet. The strength! He handled me as if I weighed nothing. At 6'4" he towered over me, his hips at about the level of my rib-cage. His cock was now fully erect, pointing north and resting against the taut uniform stretched across my breasts. It was my first close-up look and if anything, it was even more beautiful than before. About nine inches, I guessed, with a slight downward curve, it came up past his belly button and the circumcised knob floated an inch or so above my breasts, close enough to lean down and kiss.

I tried to do just that, but he stopped me and began unbuttoning my dress, pushing it back over my shoulders and letting it slip to the floor around my ankles. I reached back and released my bra and it dropped to the floor as well.

Now we were both naked, standing close but not touching except where his hard tool rested between my swelling breasts. He slid his hands up my sides and pressed them together. About the size of oranges since my miraculous growth spurt, they bulged around his shaft, the nipples pressing lightly into his hard stomach.

Pivoting his hips back and down, he tried to slide his cock through my cleavage but there was too much friction and the skin just bunched up, covering his knob like a foreskin. I grabbed the shaving gel and pumped a few squirts into the gap he had just vacated, and when he pushed back up it glided smoothly all the way through.

Tall as he was, still only the last three inches of that magnificent wand could reach my breasts, so I popped my bottom back down on the desk to give him better access. The next time he pushed forward, his entire length plunged through my cleavage, five inches of it clearing the top and touching me on the lips. I had the barest moment to catch a drop of pre-cum on my tongue before he slid away again. How to describe the taste? Salty? Sweet? Utterly exquisite!

Kneading my breasts as he fucked them, he took a dozen more teasingly slow strokes but never gave me a chance to get my mouth around his knob. This would have to change. Hold on tight, I'm going in!

I stood back up and turned us around, giving me access to the office chair. Sitting brought my eye line down to his navel with his cock-head dancing in front of my waiting lips.

Unbelievably, given what had happened so far, I still hadn't wrapped my hands around his manhood. I did so now, very softly, just behind the knob.

"You won't break it, you know," he said. "No fingernails and no teeth. Anything else goes."

I squeezed a little and the angry tip swelled. I jumped back a bit, thinking he was about to blow all over my face, but he encouraged me to go on. Gaining confidence, I gave it a harder test-squeeze and his knob throbbed even bigger. I couldn't believe my eyes, I had no idea they did that. Wanting to know where the boundaries were, I increased the pressure until my knuckles turned white, watching his face for signs of pain, but there was only pleasure.