Chapter 1

The bell rang out and I was more relieved than the students that the final lesson was done. It was 15:40 and early autumn, the sun already falling from the sky towards the horizon behind campus.

“Bye Sir”, called the dank-haired kid that always lingered last in class. His sideways glance and nervous laughs were signs he either wanted to blow me, or, wanted me to ask him how he was so I could hear the shite life he led with his abusive stepdad and alcoholic mother, or some other crap that I had no fucking time for.

I nodded his way, not looking up from the fake papers I was marking and was finally on my own. I pulled my phone out of the top drawer and checked notifications. Nothing doing, so opened Instagram and clicked on recent searches. Some of the girls in our college didn’t set their account to private and the content they’d load often made for perfect fap material. Of course, I could never follow them as no college girl would appreciate a thirty-three-year-old maths professor perving over their sexy Halloween costumes.

Just as I was getting onto the third girl on the list, not a student of mine but a recommendation from Ed in Physics, an alarm reminder went off on my phone. Bollocks, I was on detention duty that Wednesday. I pulled my books into my leather case and walked the three floors down to the staff room in case there were students I’d need to sit for an hour.

The campus, Oatlands, is a Georgian mansion and grounds converted to a public college for academic studies with a specialty in agricultural sciences, and it’s old, cold, and in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Agh bullshit!”, I called out as I pulled the paper from the notice board. There were five names on the list for detention today. Being a college there shouldn’t be any detention, and there hadn’t been such a thing for the previous one and a half years I’d been there, but the new Director of Education who surprise, surprise was never on site, decided that some additional measures were needed to up the mid-term paper results, starting with a crack-down on ill behavior.

I read the names quietly to myself. All names I knew but only one that I’d taught, and that was in her first year when she was eighteen, a dark auburn-haired girl, a little thick around the middle but pleasant enough. I wondered what she had done to have gotten detention, assuming it was smoking in the bathrooms or, consistent late submission of work but, as it was five girls, I assumed they have meted out punishment together, it was most likely them dicking around and pissing off some tired old bawl-bag down in English Lit.

There was no reason written on the list and I didn’t recognize the scrawl of a name adjacent to the student’s name but I turned on my heel, neglecting the coffee I’d been looking forward to as detention was back up on the third floor, near where I’d just been, in the geography suite.

“At least”, I said aloud to myself when pushing open the door. The girls weren’t there ahead of me ready to make sleights about my tardiness. The desk was relatively clear, so I put my bag down and took out the books I needed to mark, a bead of sweat gathering on my brow as I got comfortable in the chair.

The door swung open, a little more forcefully than was polite, and in strode an aroma of perfume wafting around a troupe of girls all dressed in black pleated skirts and a mix of different tops. On their feet were a plimsole, canvas shoe of some sort and their skirts were dangerously short. I looked up before they could see me staring at their long legs, but it was too late, all their eyes were locked on mine. To match my sweating, I started to go a little red-faced.

Janice, the bleach blonde, puffy-lipped girl at the front came straight to my desk and placed, over my left hand, a pair of white cotton knickers, noticeably warm to the touch like they’d just been taken off. I looked up, as she moved to the side and the next girl, Maria, placed her black knickers with a small pink bow, neatly on top of Janice’s own. My mouth opened and closed.

“We all assume, Sir, that it was not the lengths of our skirt that were too short, Sir, but the fact that we were still wearing our knickers that offended you and the other male teachers”, said Janice, now leaning over my desk, two hands resting on the edge and if I had the gumption to look down, most probably also revealing ample cleavage for me to feast my eyes on.

“Given all eyes have been on us in every lesson, we suppose that this is where we went wrong with the school dress code”, said Ann-Marie, coming in behind Maria and placing her striped knickers on the pile where thankfully I had since removed my hand.

“If you think this is some sort of clever protest, ladies, it’s poorly made and ill-judged”, I said in my clearest and calmest voice I could muster, though I can assure you, I was nothing close to calm inside. My heart was racing, and I desperately looked past the last girl coming in to see if there was any other teacher that I could call on for support.

After Ann-Marie came Ciara, the girl I had briefly taught but seeing her now, there was little similarity to how she was the year before. She’d shed any additional weight she might have had and slimmed down around her waist. She paused, very briefly, but definitely paused as she placed her plain black knickers down on the desk and made her way to a desk in front of where I was sitting, pulling out a chair. I looked away from her in case she didn’t have any knickers on to protect any decency she might have and looked to the last girl in the line, already standing at my desk side. Zoe, a very vocal and outgoing girl, going from the posters she appears in for the drama productions, stood there, smiling at me.

“We can put on a show for you, Sir if this is what you need? These knickers were only there to stop us from leaving a pussy smudge on the seats around campus but consider them gone”, said Zoe, smiling from ear to ear.

“No, girls, if you are bare down there, you have to put these right back on”. I said, looking down at the pile of knickers on my desk. “I’ll step out, so you have some privacy whilst you get dressed, but, don’t think this won’t go unreported. It’s inappropriate”.

I went to stand but found that my groin was straining as I tried to stop any blood from concentrating its way to my penis. It bounced once, then twice. The crutch stretching almost imperceptibly but filling out. Before I could slide my chair back, however, Zoe had dragged a chair to the door, now closed behind her, and sat down, her legs closed together, blocking the exit and obscuring a clear view of whether she was sans pants.

I swiveled towards her, making to stand and as she looked me in the eye, she opened her legs, wide, the limited light from the windows pouring over her white inner thighs and exposing a tender pink vagina in all its glory. Without a clear study, just taking in the shape and colors from my peripheral vision, she smiled at me as I agonized over my next move. As quickly as I could allow myself, I looked back to the classroom without a second glance only to find four girls sitting at single desks, all with their legs parted, hands flat on the table tops, and all leaning ever so slightly back. I could see the fold of bum cheek on Ann-Marie, and Maria had a good showing of pubic hair at least above her clitoris. Where to look? Out the window? Fuck, it was intimidating.

“We have an hour, Sir, to take our punishment. Will it be you that teaches us how we should be dressed? Will you teach us what you’d like us to do?” said Zoe, with arrogant confidence.

My penis thumped hard in my pants and Ciara crossed and uncrossed her legs. I snatched a glance, something I feel I am adept at, as, years of teaching had afforded me a thousand glimpses of knickers and partial lips but never had a student sat before me with nothing to hide her lips. I caught my breath and was about to insist on forming a new argument when there was a thump at the door.

“What the?” came an alarming call as the door bounced back as the chair blocked the door from opening freely.

Zoe jumped up and moved the chair back towards the desk as Ms Bounder came pushing through the door, taking in the situation as she saw it. I turned to look at the class and saw that the four girls were now sitting with their legs clamped shut and deep in concentration as they pulled out a random textbook or paper from their bag.

Ms Bounder looked to me, to my desk, and to where just seconds before were five pairs of knickers, knickers that I had hastily stuffed under my butt cheek as she’d looked around the room. Had she seen them? I didn’t think she had.

“It seems I got here just in time, Mr Patterson, as these girls look like they have the run of you”, said Ms Bounder in her curt and proper manner.

Agh, that fucking bitch, looking to belittle me in front of a class. “I think you’ll find that the girls are all settling down quietly to reflect on their misdemeanors and take advantage of the dedicated study hour”, I retorted.

“Well, this hour Mr Allsop needs four willing volunteers to help him clear out the bee-keeping sheds and I thought you, you, you and you just might like to head straight down there and make yourselves useful”. Ms Bounder pointed to Ann-Marie, Marie, Janice, and Zoe. Ciara looked hopeful that she would stick with the others but no, just the four were directed to leave the room.

The girls grabbed their bags and slung them over their shoulders again, looking wistfully at me in the hope that I might slip them their knickers. As Ms Bounder turned briefly, I pulled a random pair from under me, bunched in my left fist, and pulled them to my face, taking a deed inhalation looking over my hand and into Zoe’s eyes. She narrowed hers and flashed a look that read as one thing “asshole”.

The door closed behind Ms Bounder and I turned to face front, the erection well and truly dampened only to see a defiant Ciara staring back at me, legs wide open.

“You think that I’m not going to show you where you can stick your stupid school rules, Dan?”, Ciara asked, using my first name, something I had allowed her class to do but had since stopped.

“Ciara, you’re a nice girl, you don’t need to do the same as Zoe and the others. This doesn’t impress me”, I said back, trying to be friendly and serious, the whole time desperately hoping she’d not close her legs.

The backs of her thighs sat loosely on the plastic chair, the bottom of her skirt slung low just obscuring the top of her fanny, but I could still see the lips perfectly smooth and even. And I looked. I had no shame now. I wanted to look, and I did. She started to flush red as I leaned back on my chair, relaxing into the confrontation for the first time.

“You can come closer if you need a better look, you perv”, she said, with a bitter note in her voice.

“I’m good, thanks Ciara. You’re a bit young for me, but still, the view is pleasant I’ll grant you that”.

“Wish I could say the same ‘bout you. You’re old and bald. And I bet your eyesight isn’t as good as you wish it was right now”, said Ciara with a snarl.

True, I was bald, a decision I had made over a decade ago, to shave it all off and keep a clean sharp profile but I wasn’t old and my eyesight, thank goodness then, was perfect.

“Ciara, I’ll ask you again, close your legs or I’ll come and close them for you,” I said, not meaning to sound menacing, but, coming across as that all the same.

“I’ll invite you to try”, she said sweetly.

Ciara did the classic Sharon Stone leg cross, moving her skirt further up in the process. It was so high I could see the flat stomach above her vagina up until the band of the skirt that had been hitched up. She wore a white t-shirt with ‘Love to hate’ written in a graffiti scrawl.

I pushed back my chair. What the fuck was I doing? I walked over to her and asked again, but with the same defiant tone, she rebuked me again.

“I’m going to slide your chair out, Ciara, so you’ll have to stand and stay standing for the rest of detention”, I said in as authoritative a tone as I could muster.

Ciara clung to the chair as I pulled it backward. She was light, lithe, not much to her and as I stood over her shoulder, I peered down her top, sneaking a peek at her pert breasts that sat loose in a floral-patterned bra, the moon of a nipple so briefly in view. My pants and trousers were tight now as my erection tried to right itself. She pushed her shoulder back and brushed into it briefly. Had she felt that? She didn’t react if she did.

The chair came free from the desk, and it glided around me until she was back facing me. If she wasn’t going to willingly get off the chair, I was going to make her. I placed my hands over hers on the sides of the chair and picked it up, to chest height. She gave a little gasp but didn’t scream as I now held her and the chair aloft in front of me. Her legs closed mostly but now I had her pussy just feet from my face and her head well above mine. I staggered forwards a step and placed the chair legs carefully onto the desk behind. Now, she was sitting on a chair on a table and in a rather precarious position.

“I recommend you don’t move, Ciara”, I said.

“No? Not even to do this?” replied Ciara.

Ciara let go of the base of the chair and placed her hands on her knees, slowly parting her thighs, lifting her bum to thrust her opening closer to me. I held the chair legs making sure that one didn’t slip off the side and turned back to face her, to face her pussy. She smiled and looked down at me.

“Feeling a little lost at sea, Sir Dan?”, merriment in her voice hid the absurdity of the situation.

Where did she get this confidence from? It pissed me off. I should be the one in control of the classroom, not this tiny college girl who last year wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Now she had me doing all kinds of crazy things.

“Maybe it’s the salty water I’m gonna taste that’ll make me feel at sea,” I said, before holding onto both her legs with my hands, gripping behind her knees to take control as I pulled her even closer to the seat edge. My cheeks slid along her cool thighs and without hesitation I plunged straight on, pushing my lower lip straight onto her vagina and taking my tongue and running it up the right-hand lip and into the crease above. It didn’t taste good. The first lick rarely does, and this time was no different. I thought first of earwax mixed with hot water and then of fruit that was both sour and sharp at the same time. The knickers had come off in a hurry and she’d not tried to clean her lips from the detritus of a day. A fleck of balled toilet paper and a thread of cotton came away on my tongue but again, that didn’t surprise me. Married, divorced, and dating through Tinder, I’d had more than my fair share of unpreened pussies, and this had already started to turn in flavor as natural lubricants started to pool from the crease.

Ciara’s hands held on to my head as I gently caressed her now floral vagina.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Sir?” Ciara asked in gasps as she kept me held firm, sometimes pressing her thighs together, next throwing them apart. “Do you think you can just pick me up and eat me out, on a, Jesus Christ, on a school table? Fuck, keep doing that, you limp dicked faggot”.

Ciara’s insults were random, gibberish almost as I took my time discovering the nuances of her fanny. At the top, almost like an afterthought, was a light downing of hair, very light blonde and wispy to the stroke and all below had been recently shaved. No missed wiry hairs, no burrs on the skin, just smooth rounded lips that when parted, produced a brilliant pink, almost blood red in the middle down towards her pulsing hole. The fold and flaps and knicks here were all unique, the muscle inside out as it yearned to be toyed with. I moved down past her vagina and pushed my tongue hard on her perineum, a brief interlude before I lifted her forward more and stroked my tongue across her tightly held sphincter.

“All right, bummer boy, back away from the rear exit, we’re a front door only event tonight”, said Ciara, having gained confidence suddenly.

Who had Ciara been with? I recall that she had different boys flirting with the year previous but hers wasn’t a social media profile I’d been stalking. Had anyone licked her arsehole before? From her writhing and rising panic, I assumed that she hadn’t.

The chair finally nudged backward, and a leg slipped over the edge, forcing Ciara into standing before I gathered her fully into my arms, naked legs awkwardly splayed over my shoulder and across my chest. The chair hammered down to the floor and whilst the classroom door was unlocked, there were no teachers that voluntarily hung around once the kids were finally off the grounds. I lowered Ciara to the desk and instead of pushing away, she kept her hands around the back of my neck, now looking deep into my eyes.

She stretched her neck up and put her parted lips over mine, pulling me down toward her as she lay back on the desk, hooking her left calf around my rear, pulling me into her. She unhooked her right hand and first used it to pull up her shirt, awkwardly revealing a breast before choosing instead to grab at the front of my trousers and roughly trying to loosen the belt from its buckle but making no progress. Her pulling finally allowed my penis to free from the constraints of the left trouser leg and the throbbing helmet celebrated by poking clear of the elastic of the top of my pants. Ciara’s fingers backed onto my cock with her next grab and in excitement, she pulled away from the deep kiss she’d passionately pushed onto me to hurry the trouser removal.