David's Tall Girls' School Ch. 17byThorilla©
(It was late autumn of 1960 and I, David Shaw, was 20 years old and was following my hobby of bird watching. I had unfortunately been detained by Amelia Wiff-Naseford, headmistress, for being an alleged 'Peeping Tom' in the grounds of 'Dentwood Finishing School for Tall Girls aged 18 to 20 years old'. There were 120 girls registered at the school. Clearly I was not a so called 'pervert' but I could not prove it.
I had decided not to get the local police involved by agreeing to submit myself to the traditional 'Punishment Rules of the School' as applied to 'Peeping Toms'. This involved being stripped naked and spread-eagled on the headmistress' study carpet, and tethered with ropes and leather straps to metal rings set in floorboards at each corner of the room. I was then required to orally pleasure the 'whole' school. This is part seventeen of my sorry tale.)
"Tom," Barbara said, as if it were my real name, "I told the other girls that you would sleep with us tonight."
"I realise that," I said, "So what is it that you are trying to tell me?"
"Nothing really, except that was my first time," she had a look of desperation and sadness and I kissed her again, helping her to her feet.
I looked at her closely. Her face was amazing. Her teeth sparkled as she stared down at me. My face was roughly at the same height as her shoulders. Everything about her appeared fresh and wholesome. I ran my eyes up and down her body. Her eyes were dark brown and large; her neck was long and slim and she wore a tiny pendant crucifix above the collar of her open necked blouse. Her grey sweater was pushed out by firm young breasts with prominent nipples which jutted enticingly towards me.
"What are you doing? You terrible man," she exclaimed as she watched my eyes roving over her at close quarters.
She shuffled forward and looked down her nose at me almost giggling because she felt both embarrassed and self conscious.
"What are you doing? Am I being inspected? You are worse than the housemistress checking that our uniforms are clean and ironed," she said nudging me with her black stockings.
I looked down at her pleated skirt which brushed against the opening in my now gaping dressing gown. My penis slowly stiffened and stood out at right angles to my thin puny body so that it touched the rough woolen tartan material of her uniform. Immediately the sensitive exposed head jerked in approval. I lifted up the hem of her skirt and wrapped some pleats around my erection and began to masturbate. The roughness of the material felt both stimulating and painful. My testicles tightened and I closed my eyes enjoying the sweet sensation. As I did so she moved even closer and we kissed slowly and languorously savouring each movement of our tongues with delved and probed each others mouths.
After many minutes Barbara stopped kissing me and put both her hands on my shoulders and firmly, but gently, pushed me downwards. I knelt at her feet with my head roughly at the height of the waistband of her skirt.
"You know what to do now don't you," she said, as I understood where she wanted me to place my head.
I squatted down and eased my head under her skirt and petticoat. The enclosed space smelled of her natural fragrance mixed with the aroma of my semen and sweat. I slurped my way between her hairy labia which were still distended from our recent avid and enthusiastic lovemaking. Her lips still drooled with semen as I parted them and slipped my tongue inside her. Above me she shook down her underslip and pleats and I felt the heaviness of her plaid skirt pushing me even further into the centre of her sensitivity. Once again I was in the familiar world of a young woman's underskirt.
Within a few minutes she was groaning and moaning unintelligibly, her petticoat and heavy pleats shaking around me, her lace edging thrashing around my neck and shoulders. Her stocking tops, tensioned tightly by her frilly suspenders, swept over my cheeks. My penis dripped precum as it strained at the erotic sights, smells and sounds which surrounded me under her warm skirt.
She grasped my head brutally through her skirt, and held me in a vice-like grip against her genitals, as she jerked herself over my face, over and over again. I felt that I was being dragged about as If I were arabbit being shaken by a dog. She bent her knees, shuddered, and then swore loudly. Her upper-crust voice appeared to fill the echoing stairwell. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on and my nostrils could feel the tiny muscular ripples flowing through her vagina.
All of a sudden it was over and I re-emerged from under her skirt sweating and exhausted. Barbara Rippingdale gulped in air as she gradually calmed down and resumed her seat on the stairs staring at me. She laughed and shook me by the hand as if to thank me. I judged that this appeared a rather formal gesture, but reciprocated her appreciation with a kiss to her fingers. My legs wobbled visibly as I regained my footing and composure.
She led me up to the dormitory and I was greeted with nineteen faces staring at me in wide eyed surprise.
"You've brought him then Babs," said one of them and I noticed them smile then look at the gaping front of my dressing gown where my erection bobbed about as if it had a mind of all it's own.
In the cosy lamplight I noticed that there were twenty double beds edging both sides of the long wide room and a central space in the middle. It was similar to the French girl's dormitory, but there were two old leather settees facing each other in the centre of the room, with a small rug in between, creating an intimate seating area piled with journals and newspapers.
"Hey Jill have you read this?" said one of them, brandishing a teenage magazine.
"What is it?" said Victoria Gregory, lifting her skirt to scratch an itch on her thigh.
I glimpsed a flash of cream coloured underslip and black stocking, at the same time my erection rose to horizontal level and bounced around looking extremely pleased with itself.
"Take the flasher's dressing gown off, " said Christine Forrester.
The girl who had several dildos, now appeared to take charge.
I now stood completely naked amongst these tall beauties as Susan Laing read out an article from 'Girls Untamed' magazine........
"Skin Toners, New Advances. It has recently been discovered that facial skin can be rejuvenated and toned by the application of testosterone. This may be sourced from the testes of males of the species and from the semen and seminal fluid ejaculated from sexually mature men....blah, blah blah........ Science has shown that only a few globules of semen massaged vigorously around the fine loose skin found about the eye sockets and 'crow's foot smile lines' tensions the skin and nourishes the natural collagen........blah. blah blah...... This can produce beneficial and noticeable improvements to the appearance and tonal quality of the female complexion," she concluded looking around her for a reaction, if not approval.
Several girls giggled and looked in my direction. I glanced back at them and then turned beetroot red as I registered the true significance and meaning of the article.
Before I could react, I was being pulled to the far end of the room, away from the doorway, and thrown onto a bed on my back. The duvet was pulled from under me and a pair of nylon encased knees pinned me down.
I struggled but other hands held on to me and eventually tethered me down tightly to the bed using a collection of belts and scarves.
Miss Dodd, who sat astride my chest, told me to calm down and keep quiet or else they would complain to the headmistress who would then call the police. She told me not to bite.
I heaved and strained one last time but couldn't move. It was no use, and I felt vulnerable and puny in my naked state. I had been tied down so that my head was at the foot end of the vast double bed and my limbs were spread-eagled to all four bedposts. Once again I was at the mercy of twenty long-legged nineteen year old school girls. The outlook appeared very bleak, very bleak indeed.
"Well 'Flasher'," Miss Judith Dodd, my captor, said to me sliding forward, "You know what we are going to do to you don't you?"
"You're probably going to extract some semen from me I suppose," I said trying to put on my 'little boy lost' look so that she would take pity on me. I tried the 'puppy dog face' look on the other girls who now surrounded the bed but none appeared to display any sign of mercy, and all looked eager to try the new skin treatment.
"Correct first time, 'Flash-boy'," she said in a satisfied manner.
Judith slid forward so that my nose was rammed into the damp crotch of her white nylon lace edged panties. As soon as I breathed in the intense musky sweetness of her feminine odour my penis elongated to maximum length. I heard several girls say that they were surprised at its length for one so skinny and short.
"Goodbye Flasher you will not need to see anything for a while," said my female schoolgirl captor sliding even further forward so that her knees splayed across my shoulders and my cheeks were gripped by her thighs above her stockings.
I could only just breathe, and that was mainly through my mouth. Judith pulled her flared frilly white waist-slip over me so that I could only see shadows moving above me. She then dropped her pleated tartan school skirt down around her covering my face and upper torso from view. Everything went very dark and quiet and I could only vaguely make out the conversation around me.
"We need paper cups, or some small empty bottles," I heard someone say. Then I heard "Who has done this before?" and "My brother showed me once," said a girl with a Scottish accent.
"Yukth," said someone with a lisp, it must have been Samantha Skirving-Thorpe, "I'dth rather holdth the cup ifth you don't mindth." She said in her childlike voice.
I lay there passively with my head beneath Miss Dodd's knee length pleats as the preparations went on around me in the dormitory. Then I became aware of several girls sitting on the bed next to my exposed genitals, which had now shriveled because I felt so vulnerable.
Gradually I felt fingers caress and fondle my penis and testicles. Around me I felt stocking clad knees brush against my legs, feet and stomach. The stroking gave way to pulling and pushing as my glans were exposed to view. The girls giggled and chatted as my penis extended to its maximum length.
"Oh, wow it's huge," said one of them and it seemed to jerk upwards out of their hands. I must admit I was straining it to make it even longer.
The scene must have appeared very erotic. Here was me, naked, tied, spread-eagled on my back on a large double bed at the far end of the dormitory. Sitting on my face, wearing her school uniform, was a nineteen year old with exceptionally long legs wearing black nylon stockings, with her pleated knee-length tartan skirt and white lace-edged petticoat spread over me. Between my naked thighs another nineteen year old knelt and cupped my balls. Next to me, on each side of the bed, two other girls sat and milked me with their long cool fingers.
I savoured the delightful experience jerking my hips in time to their wanking. It was not long before I was on the home straight, my breath sucking at Judith's knickers which were now oozing vagina juice over my nose and lips. Not long after, a plastic cup was held against my stomach as the milking became more and more intense. Soon I could hold back no longer and I jerked my body violently off the bed as eight powerful thrusts released long strings of semen into the cup.
"We've got some, we've got some, great work girls, that's enough for us four, now it's someone else's turn," said Judith hauling herself off me.
Another four girls appeared around me. I recognised them as Elizabeth Chadburn, Phoebe Clifford-Singfield, Danielle Holbrook and Pamela Meakin. The latter stood out as she was 6 foot 5 inches and was possibly the tallest girl in the school.
"Who's going to sit on his face?" asked Danielle.
"I will," said Pamela, clearly realising that there would probably be more room for her long legs at the foot end of the bed where my face was.
She flicked back the fringe of her long curly hair and hitched up her skirt and petticoat.
Next to me a large foot appeared on the bed. The black nylon reinforcements on her toes and ankles of her stockings suddenly appeared unexpectedly erotic. Naturally my penis began to stir again and extend across my stomach. The bed swayed and bounced as she swung her other foot over my head and squatted on my face. I stared around me almost in panic as she knelt, than sat, on my chest, her heavy thighs above her stockings gripping my face.
She nudged forward so that my nostrils were pushed firmly into her cream broderie and eyelet lace panty crotch. Once again I felt trapped, this time under a giantess of formidable proportions. She smiled down at me as she flipped her cream nylon broderie and eyelet lace underskirt over my face then dropped her heavy pleats over me, cutting out any further views of the room or my captors.
Within the tight confines of her skirt her odours were quite intense. Her panties smelled strongly of warm stale urine with only a hint of vagina. She pulled her skirt hem further around me so that I was well and truly concealed and restrained.
In the meantime I noticed that the bed rocked and swayed about as others gathered around my penis. I felt a paper cup pushed over my sensitive knob end and young thin fingers scratching and clawing at my inner thighs and testicles. My penis stiffened to its maximum extension and once again I began to breathe in the sweet, savoury smell of fresh vaginal juices issuing from Miss Pamela Meakin's dribbling cunt.
A pair of hands then started wanking me. To be honest I had not made a complete recovery from my first 'semen donation' so I was not really ready to expel any more spermatozoa into the waiting receptacle.
I think the girls were being rather optimistic to expect 'production line volumes' of skin treatments available on tap, as it were.
"Come on Pam. You've got to make him sexier," said one of them, clearly eager to rest her hands after ten minutes of furious milking.
Pamela, above me, knelt up, so that light and fresh air suddenly streamed underneath her skirt. I stared up at her cream panties which were now quite damp. Her suspenders were exceptionally long and also trimmed with broderie and eyelet lace. I realised that there were actually six metal suspender clips all tensioned, and adjusted, for maximum length.
I stared hypnotised by the sheer beauty of her elegant long legs and expensive looking lingerie.
Her hands appeared under her skirt and untied a ribbon above her left hip. She moved her hands to her right hip and untied the other ribbon. In one sweeping movement her panties were off and her skirt and petticoat shaken down around me again. She knelt down again and pushed her vaginal opening and pubic hair into my nose. The smell was even more intense and I lapped at her, and licked her, as if my life depended upon it. I delved into her bush with my tongue and exposed her clitoral hood.
My face gradually became slimy as her juices flowed over me. The atmosphere under her skirt smelled purely of sex, and I felt intoxicated by it. Her damp hair tickled my nostrils and I stifled a sneeze. From above me I could hear her breathing become more and more laboured as my clitoral stimulation continued. Her hands gripped my head and pulled it forward into her as she slid further over me. Her movements became more and more urgent and pronounced and I felt as if my head once again was a mere masturbatory aid. It was as if my head was dismembered and bobbing around on a choppy sea, as my skull was pulled this way and that, over and over again.
Her muscular thighs, above her stockings, held my cheeks as her inner-most suspender clips brushed my temples as she threshed around above me clearly nearing her orgasm.
Meanwhile at the other end of the bed Phoebe Clifford-Singfield was wanking me as if she were milking a cow, except ten times faster, or so it seemed.
From out of nowhere Pamela's orgasm hit me. A great wave of shuddering, juddering and swearing announced its approach as my head was rocked viciously backwards and forwards, completely at the mercy of this ruthless creature.
Suddenly she stopped, and I felt her shaking and shivering as a huge emotional discharge welled up inside her and exploded in lots of 'yes, yes, yes, and yeses'.
At the same moment I released seven powerful thrusts full of semen into the paper cup and the girls all cheered. I lay back gasping staring face-to-face at Miss Meakin's sopping labia. She lay back, almost squashing my genitals, and slowly swung her limbs off me. She retrieved her knickers and wiped my face with them before retiring to the bathroom. I felt completely and utterly drained physically, if not emotionally, once again.
It must have been getting quite late and I was vaguely aware of the school clock chiming ten o'clock in its tower on the roof.
I looked around and the girls were trying out the new skin conditioner. It appeared that they had enough to keep them going. My latest offering was passed around and little dabs were applied to their cheeks and massaged in. No one appeared to mind that the 'secret formula' originated from between my legs.
Some of the girls were changing into their nightwear and I was treated to various strip-tease shows from every corner of the room. I had never seen so many firm pert breasts, well not since the communal shower with the French girls, but that seemed ages ago.
"We need one more...err....squirt ....of...err you know what," said Lucy Gratton-Smith, the fragile blonde doll-like creature, rather nervously and apologetically.
I told her to help herself as I couldn't move with all the belts and scarves holding me down. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled in a self-conscious way at me as she toyed with my knob and balls. Once again I felt that I couldn't provide her with the goods as I was still seriously recovering from the second milking. She fiddled about with my genitals really not knowing what she was doing. I could imagine Christine Forrester making short work of the situation as she had appeared the most sexually experienced of Class 2A.
Lucy gradually worked out what to do and slowly but surely my penis began to rise again. Behind me, on the bed, two knees suddenly appeared to each side of my head. It was Susan Laing. She told me to open my mouth and she allowed a long drool of saliva to flow from her lips and land on my tongue.
"Yuk," I thought, as I swallowed, but then I felt my penis strangely stiffen.
"Again, open," she ordered me as she summoned up more saliva and deposited it in my mouth.
Two other girls, Deborah Bramley and Karren Brittan looked on, intrigued. I lay there seemingly the receptacle of Susan's spitting and drooling while my stiff penis jerked about wildly like a caged animal within the fragile fingers of Miss Lucy Gratton-Smith.
Christine Forrester suddenly appeared and pushed Lucy out of the way. She spat in her hands and began violently wanking me. There was no time to summon up my strength and I just watched her methodically jerking me off. She was like a paid mercenary, efficient and ruthless.
Up and down, twisting, pulling, massaging, manipulating she continued. Up and down like a piston went my foreskin over my glans After five solid minutes of brutal milking I felt semen rising, and she did too. There was no cup. There was no cup?
"Lucy, open your mouth and don't swallow," she said pulling Lucy by the hair so that her face was two inches away from my penis tip.