School fantasies

I remember once when I was at school I was going out with a guy, a year older than me, he had repeated one year so he was in the same year as me in class. I was in the sixth form then, just on eighteen. He was a really sexual person and loved all sorts of, seemingly then, perverse things. Now looking back, I can see that he just liked having fun.

One day in class we were on break in the morning and we had been walking around the grounds of the school, near the playgrounds etc. We had our usual points where we knew we were out of sight of the kids on the playgrounds and the staff who were patrolling and when we got to these places he used to "cop a feel" as we said then. Lots of passionate tongue work, his hands all over me and his enormous boner pressed into my pubis. This was great at the time and believe me I wasn't complaining, even if I did have to go back to class all worked up, hot and wet, and have to sit there with that hot sexual passion burning me between my thighs. Lots of thigh rubbing went on in those classes after break and lunch times.

This one break time we had got round to the bushes in front of the gasometer, there we were in a passionate embrace when suddenly he tells me, "Take your knickers off, I want them."

I was a little nonplussed. "What? What for?" He told me he wanted to have my knickers to be able to smell me through the rest of the day and also he could think of me going through the day with nothing on under my uniform skirt and he found that a turn on. Now I know when we mention girls' school uniforms you all think white blouse with a tie and short tartan skirt, but in fact it was more like a pink and white candy-stripe blouse with an A-line knee length skirt. Not a sailor suit but something which in its way was still pretty raunchy, as we normally rolled up the skirt so that it was well above the knees and undid as many buttons on the blouse as possible.

Well anyway, I didn't really argue with him and so I stooped down and whipped off my knickers, boring white cotton with small pink bows. He grabbed them out of my hand and held them to his nose, inhaling deeply the potent smell of hot pussy. His face was a picture and, I don’t know, maybe the smell did turn him on. Just as he was doing this one of the teachers on duty came round the corner. Greg quickly stuffed the knickers into his jacket pocket. The teacher in question was Andy Stevens; he was a drama teacher and recently qualified so he was 23 or 24 years old. There was a rumour he and Alexandra from the year above me had "done it" behind stage one evening practising for the school play. I had no idea if this was true or not but he was really cute. I blushed deeply and Greg just grabbed me round the shoulders and we walked on. I stole a look over my shoulder and he was just standing there looking at us with a big smile. I was almost certain he must have seen what Greg had stuffed into his pocket, although I didn't know for certain. The rest of our walk was without incident although a little drafty, it was quite exciting being nude under my skirt what with all the other students all around me, the thought of them knowing I was naked and vulnerable was titillating. Occasionally there were times when the boys lifted the girls’ skirts for a laugh, thankfully this wasn’t one of them. It was especially sexy the couple of times Greg brushed his hand over my arse or tickled my pubis through the front of my skirt.

Back in class I plonked myself down in our form room to hear the announcements and the cold of the chair on my arse and legs brought me down quite a bit. Our first lesson after break was Drama with Andy and I was quite intrigued to see if he would drop any hints over what he had seen, we all knew he was a terrible flirt so I expected anything. We all trooped down to the drama hut and the gossip was that Alexandra was giving out that she had never done anything with Andy, a change of tune, probably because her reputation was heading steadily for the gutter at that point. In the drama hut we were split into groups to practise our parts in the next school play that was to be done later that term. Andy paid no special attention to me, much to my annoyance, so I just got on with reading my part.

Not too long afterwards, though, I realised that he had sat himself on his desk across the room from me. I was sitting on one of the tables acting out my part but now acutely conscious of his eyes whenever they came to rest on my group and me. You can guess what happens now, can't you? I am sure you can, but do please think of me then, a young girl with a good reputation and a steady boyfriend. Plus this was playing with one of my teachers, who was at least six years older than me. Anyway, when I was sure that he was looking at me, I "gave more of myself to my interpretation," which implied parting my legs a little. The end of my skirt lay halfway up my thighs (we rolled the waistband round to make them shorter) and I am sure that the white of my skin must have contrasted with the shadow between my legs.

Each time he looked I parted them a little more and a little longer. I was getting back the buzz that going for a walk with Greg had given me. I could tell that my excitement was making me physically excited too, I could feel my own heat, feel how my sex felt molten, hot inside. In between parting my legs for Andy I was rubbing my thighs together amidst the chaos of the drama lesson, unseen and ignored by all but him (I believed). I was able to feel how my sex juices started to spill out of me and make my crotch and thighs slick. I risked an occasional glimpse up at Andy and he was staring more and more now, right at me, at my face then down between my legs. I felt really brazen, wanton and a real tart, I also felt really hot, alive and very sexy. I could see that he was flushed, obviously feeling aroused too. He had crossed his legs now and I thought it had to be because he was hard, hard from looking at me.

Suddenly he stood up, his clipboard in front of his groin, and motioned me to accompany him. We walked across the hut to his room at the back and in that short distance I imagined myself ravaged, “raped” (willingly of course), sucking teacher's rampant dick, his elegant, long, piano-playing fingers slipping into my burning sex. He opened the door and motioned me through. Once inside, he moved to the exterior door, opened it and indicated I should go out. "I think you need to take a long walk in the fresh air," he said with a smile. As I walked past him he reached down and gave me a sharp slap under the material of my skirt on my bare skin.

Much chastened, I hustled out the door, not looking back to hear him close it behind me. I felt more than a little foolish, but still very turned on. It seemed to me that he had wanted to play the game with me, had participated in it but had chickened out at the end. I walked across the playground towards the cricket pavilion. Once there and with no one else around, I slipped in through the door and went into the men's changing room. It was empty save a few pieces of abandoned kit lying around. I sat down on one of the benches along one wall and thought about what had happened. In a way I had been lucky, he could have reacted really badly. For this I was grateful and at the same time convinced that he had liked what I had done instead of thinking it childish or ridiculous. I thought about him and how he had slapped me. Of him slapping me some more, me bent over his knees, him folding up my skirt to reveal my nakedness. His hands slapping me hard, making my flesh sting and then how he might caress me, slide a hand down between the cheeks of my arse to discover my wetness. How his fingers would slip around between my legs, legs already slick with my excitement. Then he might run a wet finger across the soaking lips of my pussy. Wetness, heat, excitement. I had wound myself up into a real fury and slid my own fingers down to my pussy to alleviate the tension my imagination had created. I frigged myself in earnest, one hand with my index finger buried inside me, the other hand's fingers rubbing my clit urgently.

I came quickly, my legs trapping my own hands between them when my orgasm came. Through my pleasure I heard a bell ring. Luckily I had my skirt down and my hands behind my back when a group of second years came piling in through the door for PE. What they must have thought of me being there I don't know, but some of them gave me a very suspicious look. I left quickly before I met up with one of the PE teachers who may well have had a good idea of what I had been doing from the heavy scent of my arousal that lingered in the room.

At lunch I met up with Greg again for another walk. I said nothing of what had happened. He wouldn't have listened anyway, he was too excited by the fact he had put my knickers on in the boys’ toilet and was enjoying the feeling of the small cotton gusset and the way his cock fell out the side. Men!