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Simone The Schoolgirl (Part One)

Sparkle99 March 27, 2020 | 22128 Views

I looked at her with new eyes. Her hair was hanging forwards and her sweet face looked so soft. I looked at her perfectly straight legs, slightly tanned. He thighs were full and her calves had a lovely roundness to them. She had a woman’s legs - not those of a typical skinny schoolgirl. I felt my cock starting to twitch and decided the best thing would be to get this over with a.s.a.p. I moved behind her, holding the ruler poised above her glorious behind.

Simone The Schoolgirl (Part One)

A horny male teacher gets more than he could wish for at an exclusive residential school for senior girls

Mf, mast, fetish, spank

Chapter One

I arrived at Benlow school late, very late. Miss Archer was expecting me at 10.00 and it was 11.30 now. Damn this British public transport. I hoped she would be understanding. Mistake number one!

The school secretary ushered me into the oak-panelled room in complete silence. I was seated in a chair two feet away from the imposing desk. I had been informed that Miss Archer would be with me shortly. I looked casually around the room at the shelves of books, filing cabinets etc. All very ordered, all very British.

I was here to start my new teaching post, the term had already started but it was the first work I could find and I was glad to get it. I had never taught in a ‘public’ school before. Why was it called that? It was anything but public! But Benlow was short of a Geography teacher and the fact that I knew several languages well enough to teach them and deputise, clinched the deal. It was unclear as to what happened to the last Geography teacher, but what the heck, it was my job now.

A British public school. Here was me, a quiet guy from Florida surrounded by all of this history. I guess that’s why the post attracted me - a very well respected school, good grades, extra-curricular activities, sports facilities but most importantly for me, a room on the grounds. This would suit me fine for the next year until I got back on my feet. The pay wasn’t brilliant, but you can’t turn down free accommodation. The only catch was that I would be a ‘House Master’ and that would probably involve some supervision of some of the kids that lived on the campus.

Another first for me would be that this was an all-female school. That didn’t bother me, I’d rather teach girls than boys - far more quiet and attentive. Easier. The door opened as I was woken from my thoughts. Before I could stand a stern voice said “Ah, Mr. Kelaway, so glad you could join us”. This was my first run-in with Miss Archer.

Miss Archer, I never found out her first name, was 40ish, tall and reasonably pleasant. She had a very serious air and my attempts at humour fell on stony ground. She said she was pleased to have me there particularly as I would be filling the post of House Master also. She explained that this involved just being the adult presence in a house of around 16 of the boarding girls, whom I would meet later. She stressed that it was up to me to ensure discipline was maintained and she gave me a look as though she was expecting a reply. I couldn’t think of anything to say so she carried on and talked (at length) about the tradition of the school and the quality of girls it produced. All of this took nearly an hour and I was desperate for a pee at the end.

We toured the school buildings and I got my first glimpse of the girls - and they of me. I got stares and looks as any new teacher would but I think it was the fact that I was male, under 30 and reasonably handsome that surprised the girls. The other two male teachers were both near retirement and fairly disgusting in their personal habits.

The girls were what you would expect from such a privileged background - middle class, affluent, bright, they all seemed to be called Jessica or Laura and they were all very well presented, mainly thanks to the uniform they wore. Standard grey skirt, maroon sweater and white blouse. They could be described with the word ‘neat’ (as in tidy) as could the school. I felt like I would enjoy it here. The girls were aged between 11 and 16 and I would later find out that my house would contain the 5th year - 15 & 16 year olds. Oh great, the rebellious age!

A few days later at the weekend, I moved my stuff into Alban House at the edge of the grounds and prepared for my first lessons on Monday. It was Sunday night however, that I started working. Around 10pm I heard a loud crash and then girlish giggling from the hall. I went out quickly to find two girls (later named as Leila and Simone) hastily tidying a smashed vase. They were hot and flushed and I guessed a ‘game’ had gotten out of hand. I asked the usual dumb questions and got the usual dumb answers but the girls were making a good job of tidying up and the vase was a very plain one used for just holding flowers. I said that if the vase was replaced within a couple of days, nothing more would be said. They thanked me profusely (Very profusely!) and I went back to my room.

The next day went well. I met the class (or Form!) I would be looking after and got my rota (or Timetable!) for the classes I would be teaching. My form was ‘5F’, a group of pleasant fifth-years and, surprise surprise, Leila and Simone were two of the girls in the class, sitting at the back and keeping quiet for a change. At the end of roll-call (or Assembly!) I held them back and reminded them of their promise to replace the vase. They apologised and left. At the end of the day I got back to the house and sure enough, on the hall table was a nice and shiny new vase. Round 1 to Mr. Kelaway!

Chapter Two

The next few weeks went fine. The girls were pleasant and open to learn, the duties of a House Master were few and I was enjoying the work.

The girls were definitely cut from the same cloth. Born into reasonable money, they were expected to be well educated and sophisticated so that they could snag the best husbands. Work and career were lower on their list of aspirations compared to fashion, travel and money.

They were all immaculately groomed with gorgeous long hair and small chins and noses. Where there mothers might have been secretaries (to the boss) or p.a.'s or maybe Air Stewardesses (marrying the pilot) their daughters were sent to Benlow to get the education they needed so that University might be an option but was unlikely to be the outcome. The girls spent 6 months in Daddy's business before travelling to Switzerland or the French alps to work in chalets.

The girls knew more about hem-lines and the right sort of shoe to wear than about trigonometry.

My next ‘run-in’ with Miss Archer came in my fourth week. I heard shouting one night and went out into the hall to see Phillipa slam down the payphone and then smash the handset against the wall. I was aghast, Phillipa was one of the most quiet characters around. She turned to see me and then froze. Her eyes immediately fell to the floor and her shoulders slumped. I ordered her into my room and asked her to explain what had happened. She’d had a bust-up with her boyfriend and she’d ‘phoned to confront him with something or other and then gotten angry. All the time she was apologising and offering to make good on the repair to the wall. It occurred to me that money was not a problem for these girls and so I decided on the extra punishment of writing an essay on ‘The Control of Anger’. She grumpily accepted this and left.

The next day I was called in to see Miss Archer who was fully briefed on all of the details of the night before. Apparently a cleaner had found some mess (even though I’d told Phillipa to clear it up) reported it and Miss Archer had made her own inquiries. I put it to her that she could have asked me but she dismissed this with a flick of the hand and said she’d tried to get hold of me but I was in a class or unavailable. I said nothing but her tone softened a little and she said “Mr. Kelaway, Benlow is a school of tradition. Discipline is one of our most treasured traditions. The girls are sent here to learn respect. They are sent here by their parents and in most cases their mothers were pupils here also and as such they must value our traditions and our methods”.

At this point her voice hardened a little, “But discipline is not something we take lightly. It must be enforced, rigidly at all times”. I started to reply but she carried on, “What you did last night, whilst good intentioned, has not taught Phillipa anything. She must be disciplined strongly so that there is never a reoccurrence of such behaviour”. I could tell any argument would be futile and doing a quick bit of mental math it became obvious that I needed this job more than an argument so I just agreed with her. I accepted her views and excused myself.

Walking back to the house that afternoon I saw Phillipa and quickened my pace to walk alongside of her. She didn’t say a word when I asked if she was O.K. She didn’t say anything in fact, just ‘ummed’ and nodded as I spoke. We parted at the house. About an hour later there was a knock on my door and I called out for the person to enter and in walked Simone.

I liked Simone a lot, she was bright and good fun but she knew when to cut the crap and get down to the work. Simone had the loveliest long dark brown hair. It almost shone in spite of its' dark colour and it moved and fell around her shoulders effortlessly.

She stood in-spite of my offer of a seat and looked directly at me. She accused me of getting Phillipa into trouble with Miss Archer and what had happened was my fault. She was clearly agitated and wasn’t thinking clearly. I asked her to expand on what she was saying but she was too worked up. Finally, she took a seat opposite me and calmed down. It turned out that as soon as I had left miss Archer’s study, Phillipa was called in. She’d been told that Miss Archer and I had agreed that more discipline was need and Miss Archer had administered 6 strokes of the cane.

I was dumb-struck. I’d heard that British schools still used corporal punishment but I’d never come across it personally. I assured Simone that this was none of my doing and I was annoyed that this had happened, but Simone looked directly at me and said “If you’d been firmer with Pippa originally, then this wouldn’t have happened”. I was silenced, she carried on “We all get spanked and caned at Benlow, I’ve had it twice this year already - we’re used to it” she paused “But no- one wants it from Archer” and her words trailed off and she looked away. I thought I saw her wince.

After I’d thanked Simone for her explanation, it must have taken guts on her part, I thought about what she’d said. The girls were looking to me to keep things ‘In House’ as it were. But spanking and caning girls wasn’t my thing, it wasn’t a teaching ‘tool’ I’d ever used. And where to spank them? On the hand, legs, behind even? I thought about it some more that evening but finally turned in and had a rather strange and slightly erotic dream about some faceless girls all bending before me and lifting their skirts.

These were dreams I tried NOT to have! They can be dangerous when you’re a male teacher! Particularly when I’d got a thing for uniforms! I woke myself and got out of bed. I took my case from under the bed and found what I was looking for. A magazine with the subtle title of ‘Boobs, Skirts & High Heels’. Basically a skin mag of buxom women spilling out of tight blouses, or women in an office environment reclining over desks and showing their legs. I flicked through and couldn’t resist tossing off. I’d found that this released some frustrations and kept my mind away from the obvious distractions a school can offer.

Chapter Three

Two days later, I had Simone in my room again. This time clutching a note from Miss Archer, but addressed to me. I asked Simone if she knew what this was about but she just shrugged her shoulders a little and didn’t speak. I opened the note and read it. ‘Mr. Kelaway. I have had cause to discuss a matter with Simone Tallington. This matter needs no further discussion but Simone is aware of her wrong-doing and must be punished. I pass to you the responsibility for administering some discipline to this wayward girl. Yours, L. Archer’.

I looked at Simone and her face showed no emotion. “Do you know what this says” I asked. She nodded and said “I’ve not read it but I can guess”. I walked over to my desk and stood with my back to her. It occurred to me that I didn’t know what to do next. “And what is the usual punishment...” I left my question hanging hoping she would answer. She answered without looking up “Six strokes with the cane on bare cheeks or 10 covered”. I couldn’t believe my ears! Bare Cheeks! What sort of practice was this?

I paused for a second and tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. “And what do the girls usually choose?” I queried, I’m sure my voice was rising towards the end. “Covered” was her sparse reply. “Very well then,” I began “get yourself ready”. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as this lovely girl bent forwards and gripped her ankles tightly, legs slightly apart. I swallowed hard. It only then occurred to me that I hadn’t got a cane. I looked round for something else and saw the wooden ruler on my desk. That would do. I moved towards her and without prompting she lifted her left hand to the hem of her skirt and flicked it up casually to bear her lovely bum.

No wonder these girls were snapped up quick as wives! She wore some standard white panties and white ankle socks but the vision that stood before me was wonderful. A quick flash crossed my mind of kneeling behind her and flicking my tongue up the backs of her thighs and making her giggle but I soon shook that away. She turned her head to look up at me and said “I’m ready”.

I cursed myself for my weakness and brought the ruler down hard on the curves of the girls’ backside. Simone winced and drew breath quickly across her teeth. Her body shook a little and her wiggle caused her long dark hair to sway as it flowed from her head.

I realised I’d been a little too firm. I swished again, lower than before. Simone winced once more. A small red mark started to form across the middle of her ass cheek. A few more spanks with the ruler and the count was six.

Simone sniffed and I supposed she might be crying. I couldn’t do anymore. I said “Please stand, Simone. I think that’s enough”. She rose slowly and I watched her behind as the skirt slid slowly back down.

She was a little red-faced but no tears. She turned to me and said softly “Thank you”, then she left. I stood in the middle of the room, ruler in hand unsure of what to do next. I had just physically spanked a lovely girl for no reason I was aware of. She had bent before me showing all of her glorious legs and ass and I had spanked her. Jesus, but I was horny! I replayed the scene in my mind. Within a minute, I was on my bed, trousers down jacking off into a tissue with ‘Boobs, Skirts & High Heels’ open in front of me. My favourite photo-spread (Carla, brunette, 21 years old is a naughty secretary) open in front of me. The girl in the photos was bending forwards over a desk with no skirt on. Her fabulous legs encased in nylon stockings and black high heels. She was looking into the camera as if to say ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’. I came with a low moan but as I did, Carla’s face had turned into Simone’s.

Chapter Four

A couple of weeks went by without incident and the term was nearing its’ end and getting close to Christmas. I was pleased, I’d managed to save enough money to get home (Pensacola) for the holidays. There was no luck on the female (adult) company front but I was friendly with the girls and I managed to keep my lust in check.

On Friday nights, most of the girls went home for the weekend but some stayed and I would occasionally see them in town of an evening. They were trusted to behave but the 10pm curfew was strictly enforced. Which meant that I was also effectively on curfew as it was my responsibility to check on the girls. This Friday, I was in the local pub and ordering my final drink at around 9.30pm. I looked over into the lounge area and saw a face I recognised - none other than Simone. I wonder if she knew that she’d been the object of some of my fantasies lately?

She was flirting with some of the local guys but she was a sensible girl and I didn’t interfere. She didn’t see me but I sure saw her. She wore a tight black skirt, way too short and high heels over black nylons. She also wore a thin red top that showed she was no boy! She had lovely rounded breasts and very slight bumps showed where her nipples were ready to rise. Her hair was piled on her head and her neck looked so inviting. I leant on the bar and gazed at this vision. I was not the only one! Most of the guys in the bar were sneaking glimpses as well. I smiled to myself when I thought of how I’d spanked her - I wondered what some of these guys might pay to have that privilege!

I left just before ten and headed home. Simone was still in the pub and I was halfway expecting to see her run past me to get back before curfew. But I reached the house and stood at the doorway looking at the night sky until the church clock struck ten. I went inside and sat by my door, listening.

At 10.40pm, I heard the door open and heels click on the stone floor. I opened my door quickly and Simone froze as she saw me. I walked towards her and stood directly in front of her. It was cold outside and her nipples looked delicious. “Simone, do you have an explanation for your lateness?” I asked. She smiled at first and then looked down - she knew she was in trouble. “No Sir” was all she said. “I think you need to be disciplined, don’t you?” She nodded and walked into my room.

I watched her bum as she walked. Shit, but this was a sexy girl. I closed the door and she stood in the middle of my room, looking downcast. “To make matters worse,” I began “You’ve been drinking tonight”. She quickly turned and stammered out “No. It was only coke, honest” And stopped when she saw the smirk on my face. She knew she been caught out again. Double trouble!. She returned with “I thought it was you in the pub, you should have come over and we could have talked”. I said that she looked busy with all of the guys around her and her face fell into a sly smile and she said “Yes, but none of them are real men, are they?” and she looked deep into my eyes.

I broke away from her gaze and sternly said that she had broken the rules and must be punished. What happened next seemed to be almost in slow motion. She turned away from me and looked back over her shoulder never once letting her eyes leave mine. She said, very softly and slowly, “Well, go ahead” and she pulled the hem of her skirt up over her ass and bent forwards a little. Jesus, I nearly came on the spot!

She was wearing black hold-up stockings and a thin black G-string. I stood open mouthed looking at this slut in front of me not even considering that she was only 16 years old. My eyes followed the curves of her legs and the line of the stockings down to her high-heeled stilettos. Shit, but she was fuckable. She interrupted my thoughts by saying “I can see your friend agrees” and I saw her eyes move to my crotch. I was so stiff a cat couldn’t scratch it!

I quickly turned away from her and said “Simone, you’re improperly dressed and it’s very late - go to your room and we’ll sort this out tomorrow”. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her stand upright and turn towards me.

I watched her almost sway over to me and my cock twitched as her skirt fell back into place hiding her treasures. She smiled as she saw me look at her legs. “Older men go for legs and particularly stockings, don’t they?” she asked rhetorically. “The boys can’t keep their hands off my boobs but the older men like to see legs” and by the time she’d finished she was standing only a foot in front of me. Before I could speak she spoke softly herself and said “I made Dad’s business partner come by just letting him rub my legs when I was wearing stockings, you know”. My mouth just opened and closed like a fish.

Of all the women I’d seen in the strip joints of Reno and other places, none of them exuded as much sexuality as this girl standing in front of me now - and she knew it! She leant closer to me so that her full, red lips were only six inches away from mine and said “Of course, he preferred it when I sucked him off”. I pulled away. “Enough Simone, go to your room now” I said sternly but I wondered if she could hear the slight tremble in my voice. She pushed her bottom lip out and looked sulky and said “Oh, can’t we have some fun together. There’s only Ella upstairs and she’s always asleep by ten, and it’s eleven now.”

Images of this girl blowing my cock and riding me until I came flooded my mind. I could almost feel my willpower crumbling. I was asking questions of myself like ‘who would know’ and ‘just once should be o.k.’ but the memories of being out of work and the possibility of prosecution snapped me back into reality. “No Simone. You still deserve to be punished, even more so now. Perhaps I should let Miss Archer take care of you” I threatened.

Her face lost its’ lightness as though I’d physically slapped her. She knew the game was over. She turned and headed for the door but before leaving she said “Think of me next time you wank off - I know I’ll be thinking of you...” and she pulled the hem of her skirt up to reveal her stocking top one more time. And with that she left.

I sighed deeply as I stood and looked down at my aching cock. I wondered how angry he was with me. If he had a voice would he be saying ‘but think of that sweet little pussy!’. I sat on the bed and managed to resist for a full two minutes before I slid down my trousers and stroked my cock. I closed my eyes and thought directly of Simone. The picture of her standing straight-legged but bent forwards with her stockings exposed. I came within a minute and grunted deeply. I thought I heard a noise by the door and I quickly tidied myself away. I went to the door and opened it quickly but there was nothing happening. I also thought I heard heels clicking on the landing upstairs.

Chapter Five

Saturday brought fresh challenges. Ella received a call from home and was gone by 10am. Simone and I walked her to the train station as she was clearly upset at the news of her mother’s illness but she was strong enough to make the journey on her own. Which left Simone and me - alone for the weekend. And I was a little nervous.

Simone looked fabulous again. Scrubbed clean but so bright and fresh, her golden hair blowing freely in the wind. She had on a fluffy sweater which only accentuated her femininity. I said goodbye to her at the station and walked off. She ran behind and caught me up, holding my arm and saying “Please, can we talk. I know I said some things last night that I’m ashamed of ... but I do need to talk to someone...someone that will” she paused “understand my problems”.

I looked at her and said “Can’t one of the other girls help - how about Leila?”. She replied, “Oh Lee is fine, but I need to talk on an adult level”. She looked up at me with big, imploring eyes. I couldn’t resist. “O.K., let's talk as we walk”. We were in a country lane running away from the station back to the school. It was a two-mile walk but a nice day and we decided to cut across some fields running next to the school and walk that way.

Simone was obviously a troubled girl. She started by apologising again for what she’d said but I told her that no-one would know. She told me how she was afraid of her father - which is why she spent most weekends at the school. At the age of 12, when her body was developing, he’d started to take more of an interest in her bath-times and would sit in her room in the mornings as she was dressing for school - supposedly to talk before he went off to work but he would watch her intently as she dressed. At first Simone loved having her Daddy around but she realised that it wasn’t right in some way.

Her father had a close friend and business partner - Philip. He was clearly a guy that liked young girls and when they were as sophisticated as Simone, he took an even keener interest. For her fifteenth birthday Philip offered to take her to Paris. He flew there often and on this occasion needed to stay over the weekend. He said that she would fly out with him on the Friday, she could stay at the same hotel where there was a swimming pool and gym and at the weekend they would explore the city together. He said that in all of his visits to the city, he’d never looked around it - he was divorced without any children of his own.

Simone jumped at the chance and her parents agreed.

The one stipulation Philip made was that Simone would have to look ‘smart and grown-up’ while they were there. This turned out to mean that he wanted her to wear skirts and blouses and be paraded almost as his toy or sex-kitten. She told me that she was already 5’ 5” and wearing 34B bras and had borrowed her big sisters underwear on occasion - ‘Janet Reger’ and similar quality stuff. As she was talking I could feel my cock starting to stir. She was a lovely girl with a silky voice and the way she was talking about these ‘adult’ matters was quite arousing.

Philip had picked her up on the Friday morning (her birthday was Sunday) and drove them to the airport in his BMW. As she was seated next to him, he patted her thigh and commented her on how ‘womanly’ she looked. The day went fine, he went to meetings after they checked in and she filled her time in the hotel. That evening, they walked around Paris, eating crepes from a street stall, watching the mime artists at the Pompidou centre and had a fine time. He treated her as a grown-up and she responded in kind by acting mature and dropping any obvious ‘girlyness’. At the hotel, he kissed her goodnight with a peck on the cheek and they went to their separate bedrooms.

The next day (Saturday) he told her he would take her around the shops and buy something for his favourite ‘niece’ on her birthday and make the day all about her. They went to ‘Gallerie Lafayette’ and he took her to the dress department. She loved the clothes, so silky and so well made. She tried on a few and paraded for him. She thought nothing of it, she did this all the time with her mother.

He picked a dress for her that was plain black but very short and left her shoulders bare. It fit perfectly as she was so slim and he made a point of taking her to the shoe department and choosing a pair of black stilettos. To finish the look, he said, they went to the lingerie department and he bought her a set of silk underwear - soft and sheer panties, garter belt and silk stockings, very sheer. A bra and camisole also. She accepted everything gratefully and without a second thought.

They walked and walked that day and arrived back at the hotel around 6pm. He said he would call for her at 7.30pm and they would go somewhere ‘posh’ for dinner. He said more than once that she would look lovely in her new outfit and he made it plain that as he’d bought it for her, she could at least wear it for him.

She bathed and laid the new clothes on the bed. The clothes felt so ‘adult’ and she finally felt like she was a real woman in spite of being only one day short of 15. She had shaved her legs, smothered herself in the lotions that were stocked in the hotel bathroom, spent time drying and styling her gorgeous hair making it fall in soft waves to shorten the length but leave it bouncing on the top of her shoulders.

She put on the garter belt and slid the stockings over her legs. She slipped on the panties and shoes and admired herself in the mirror. She stepped into the dress and it almost hissed as it slid up her nylon encased legs and over her slim figure.

She touched her make-up, not too much "I didn't want to appear tarty" and applied a soft pink gloss to her full lips. A shot of expensive Chanel perfume - another gift from Philip - and she was ready to go as her door was knocked.

Chapter Six

By this time, nearly an hour of walking had put us a few miles from the station but a few more away from the school as we had ambled and took whichever lane looked most interesting... My cock was now stiff as I pictured Simone dressed that way. All this time she was talking evenly and matter-of-fact. I could tell this had been distressing for her but I felt that it was helping for her to talk about it. Was I the first one she had confided in?

I told Simone she didn't have to carry-on giving me all of the details but she said it helped her to rationalise it all in her own mind if she tried to recall all of the details so that, in her words, she "could see where I had led him on".

Back in Paris, Philip had knocked her door and she opened it fully dressed in the outfit he had bought, with a pearl necklace to round it off. She must have looked gorgeous. She said that Philip had applauded and then held her tightly and kissed her on the lips. He said that ‘that was for being so beautiful’. She felt warm, mature and sophisticated.

She described Philip to me, tall late 30s with jet black hair. Handsome, muscular and a good dresser. It sounded as though she had a little crush on him and when I quizzed her about it she half admitted it. She carried on her story by saying they walked down the road to the neighbouring restaurant. A quiet little place, very French with waiters in black uniforms and white aprons. Small intimate tables and soft lighting - very discreet.

He was attentive and kind, funny and charming. A few glasses of wine were consumed and Simone was feeling ‘mellow’. It was then that he put his hand on her thigh. He found what he wanted, namely the button of the clasp on her suspender. He smiled and Simone felt warm and happy.

They finished and walked back to the hotel. In the lift he kissed her neck and said she looked beautiful. She responded by saying she felt great and her clothes were lovely. He laughed and said that she was just saying that. No, no she replied that she meant it. He was goading her as they walked down the corridor - his gamble paid off. As she entered her room he rolled the dice, ‘I bet you’re not wearing the underwear I bought for you’. That was a challenge to Simone and she quickly took off her dress and stood before him as though she called the bluff on his dare.

She must have been a vision. No bra, the dress wouldn’t allow it, but her breasts firm and proud. Sheer silk stocking and suspenders, skimpy panties and black stiletto heels. Philip closed the door and moved up to her. He held her firmly and kissed her deeply. His expert hands roamed her body and his fingers probed between her buttocks. Simone must have ‘woken’ at this point and tried to fight him off, but there was no hope. He picked her up and dropped her on the bed. Within a matter of seconds, he had his trousers and jacket off and was kneeling behind her on the bed with her on all-fours. He roughly tugged her panties aside and thrust into her. After only a few strokes, he came. Being a gentleman, he withdrew and spurted come all over her ass and thighs.

Simone said that she stayed quite calm as she realised what had happen - the enormity of what had happened. Philip hadn't taken her virginity, years of horse-riding and finding her elder sisters' vibrator had taken care of that, but he had violated her trust. She had gathered her clothes and rushed back to her room.

She told me she didn't cry, or feel particularly dirty, but just realised she had been manipulated.

"That's why" she stated matter-of-fact "I now make sure I'm the one in control".

By now, Simone was talking very quietly and we had stopped within sight of the school gates. She had poured her heart out to me. She looked at me with little emotion. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told” she said. I took her hand and held it tightly. I looked deep into her eyes and said “Not all men are like that. Don’t feel you have to live up to that sort of thing to get attention or get a boyfriend. You’re a very sweet girl, bright and attractive. If possible, put it behind you and look forward”.

All the while I’m saying this I have an erection that you could fly a flag up. She spoke again, “Oh, I’m fine now.” Her face brightened. “I know now that I was taken advantage of and I know what to look for to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Sure, I flirt but I’m in control of that sort of situation - and I wasn’t drinking last night, I know it makes you lose control too easily”. She smiled.

We stood in silence for a while until I realised I was still holding her hand - it seemed so natural. She spoke again “Thanks for listening, and not passing judgement”. She looked at me with a devilish grin. “Tag!” she shouted and ran off towards the school. I ran after and tagged back - this happened twice more before we reached the door of the house, both panting and laughing. The gloom of the last hour had been lifted and today looked like being a lovely day. And then she kissed me. She took me completely by surprise - she held my face in her hands and kissed me tenderly on the lips. She kissed me as boldly and confidently as a woman should. It only lasted a few seconds and she pulled away and ran upstairs. At the top she turned and said “Thanks again” and disappeared.