Photo-story from New Blushes Uniform Girls 2.01. An adapted version of Evening Tutorial from Uniform Girls 52.
The phone rang. She could guess who it would be.
‘Gillian? Hello dear.’ Yes, Mr Vanway. ‘Just checking dear, that I’m seeing you this evening. The normal time.’
Mr Vanway had been away for a couple of days so Gillian had missed her Monday evening tutorial. Looking across at Derek she smiled and said yes, tonight as usual.
‘Lovely that will be lovely. Are you by yourself now, Gillian?’
Big blue eyes smiling at Derek, Gillian said no.
Mr Vanway laughed softly. ‘A girlfriend or a boyfriend? As long as you’re not doing anything naughty, dear. We’ll talk about it later, shall we?’
He rang off. Gillian thought: maybe Mr Vanway had rung to see how long it took her to answer. And if the phone had to ring a few times it might mean she was doing something. With Derek. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to tell Mr Vanway about this new boy at school called Derek Minfield, or at least not said that she rather fancied him. Mr Vanway was sure to want to make something of it. Gillian unconsciously squirmed her bottom on the settee. He didn’t need much excuse, or no excuse at all. The slightly dizzying thought sliding into her head. Being over Mr Vanway’s lap. Her knickers down and her bottom bare. Mr Vanway’s hand at the bare flesh.
She produced another smile for Derek. They hadn’t been doing anything as it happened. Just sitting on either side of the coffee table here in Gillian’s lounge. It was 4.30 and neither of her parents got back before 5.30. So they could have been doing something. Right here on the lounge settee for instance. Yes. She could have had her knickers off with Derek on top of her. His stiff thing sliding in and out of her well-lubricated vagina. That was what Mr Richley in Biology said, ‘the well-lubricated vagina’, making some girls in the class go very red in the face.
But of course Gillian and Derek hadn’t been doing that. She hadn’t done it with anyone yet, although she was 18 and quite a number of girls of 18 had. Did Mr Vanway really believe she hadn’t done it yet? With Derek. Or someone. He was always asking her, as if he didn’t really believe it.
Derek asked who it was on the phone. She reached behind her to tighten the ribbons on her blonde bunches, the action as she knew thrusting out her firm boobs and of course drawing Derek’s eyes. ‘Maybe it was my other boyfriend,’ she teased. ‘Desperate to see me. Do you think?’ Giving Derek her big, innocent smile. ‘All hot to come round here and fuck me.’
Derek flushed and shrugged. He was still unsure of himself with Gillian who was such a beautiful girl with a super figure. Perhaps the best-looking girl to actually know and talk to that he had ever seen. He was new to the town and still found it difficult to believe he had got this far with Gillian Prentice. She had had another boyfriend of course, Paul Sinton, who was in her class. But Gillian has assured him that was all over.
‘Actually it was Mr Vanway. He’s my tutor. I have to see him later this evening.’
She said it evenly, her face composed. As if it was nothing. Whereas of course Mr Vanway would no doubt have her knickers off within five minutes of her arriving at his place. And if not five minutes certainly before she left. Some excuse or other and he would be telling her to take them down. But Derek wasn’t to know that. And her face didn’t betray anything, although inside, thinking about it could make you go all hot and cold. But no one knew. Including her parents who had arranged the tutoring.
‘Your tutor? What subjects?’
‘Oh various things. Things I’m stupid in I suppose. Come over here and sit next to me.’
Derek came across to sit on the settee. ‘Tell me what subjects.’ He couldn’t really believe Gillian had a tutor.
‘I told you, whatever I need. This and that. Sometimes I’m really thick. Derek, didn’t you know that?’ Her hand rubbed his thigh.
He laughed. ‘So it really wasn’t your other boyfriend?’
‘No. My other boyfriend doesn’t call on Wednesdays. I see him Thursdays mostly. He comes round and I usually let him fuck me here on the settee. If he’s brought a contraceptive. Well, a girl’s got to be careful about getting pregnant, you know that, Derek. But if he has I’m usually nice to him and let him put it in. In my well-lubricated vagina.’
Derek wasn’t laughing or smiling now. He had gone red in the face. He guessed she was just trying to wind him up and he knew she knew he should take it as a joke but it wasn’t easy. Gillian moved her hand to his thigh. ‘Mr Richley said that in Biology. “It is a natural process. Prior to intercourse the woman’s vagina become well-lubricated to more readily accommodate the erect penis.” Some girls went bright red! Probably they’d been doing it the night before and so knew all about it.’
‘But not Gillian Prentice?’ Derek’s voice had a shaky edge.
‘No, I don’t think so. I kept my cool.’
‘I mean... you hadn’t been doing it the night before?’
‘No, it wasn’t my night for doing it.’ She squeezed his thigh. ‘Oh Derek! I was only joking. You know I don’t have another boyfriend. And I don’t do it.’ Her hand moved to his crotch. ‘Mmm... are you big and stiff?’
Derek grunted. The thought of Gillian screwing someone else made him feel sick but it had nonetheless aroused him and he did have a semi-erection. Gillian’s hand was stroking it.
‘Can I hold it...?’ her fingers at his zip. Tugging it down.
He tried to sound cool. ‘What about your tutor? Will he approve?’
Gillian had it out. It was fully erect now. Her fingers closed round it. She had that slightly dizzy sensation in her head. Holding a boy’s stiff prick really turned her on. It was the same dizzy feeling she got when she was over Mr Vanway’s lap with her knickers down. She began stroking Derek’s cock, her hand forming a fist though it was too big for her fingers to encircle completely. Part of her mind was still on Mr Vanway. Making her voice stay cool she said.
‘No. I’m sure he won’t approve. And he’ll make me tell him. He always makes me tell everything. So I suppose I’ll get punished.’ She looked up, her big blue eyes meeting David’s as she continued stroking. ‘I’ll just have to take my punishment, won’t I? I’ll have to suffer for you, Derek.’
Derek’s cock felt like it was bursting, the head a swollen purply-pink. His face was red too, and rather desperate-looking.
‘Shall I tell you how he punishes me?’ Gillian inquired sleekly. But she was only joking. She gave a nervous laugh.
‘Of course I can’t. He doesn’t let me tell anyone. He’s very strict about that.’ And then another edgy laugh. ‘I’m joking. He doesn’t really punish me. Really.’
Was Derek listening at this point? Probably not. Because he was almost on the point of coming. Gillian with a tissue in her other hand, the one that wasn’t wanking him, caught his spunk as it spurted out. Well, she didn’t want a mess on her dress or on the furniture for her mother to see.
Afterwards, giving him the wad of sticky tissue to put down the loo, she repeated it. ‘No of course not, Derek. Mr Vanway doesn’t punish me I mean. Of course he doesn’t.’
Derek would have no real reason to doubt this. Gillian looked at her watch. ‘You’d better go. My parents will be here soon. And I’ve got some work to do.’
But it wasn’t work that Gillian did once Derek had, rather reluctantly, left. It was something else. Something she just had to do. Up in her room and reasonably quickly before her parents returned. Because she was in quite a state. The business with Derek had got her going, but even more was the thought of later. Mr Vanway. As always now the prospect scared and excited her at the same time. Not that she had any choice. It was a regular appointment, Mondays and Wednesdays, except that she had had to miss last Monday because he was away. Not having been round there for a whole week made it worse. More scary. Because Mr Vanway would be worse. Probably.
She flopped down on her bed and slid her knickers off. Mr Vanway looming in her head. Those scary eyes that went right through you. And that scary bald head, like some evil villain she had seen in a film. And his hands... that before you knew it would be roaming up your skirt.
Yes Mr Vanway. In that cosy little room where he did his tutoring. And did the other things too. Gillian with her knickers off and her fingers in her hot slit. At her clitoris. Groaning. Oh Christ. That bloody Mr Vanway. Could she tell her mother she didn’t want to go to him any more? But she didn’t really want that, did she? The groans merged into a high-pitched shuddery squeal. As Gillian came.
She felt better afterwards. A little bit more relaxed. But naturally not really relaxed. Well, she did have to go out to Mr Vanway’s in a couple of hours’ time.
‘Hello Gillian dear!’ Mr Vanway greets her. ‘Mmm, lovely. It seems such a long time since I’ve seen you. I daresay you’ve been doing all kinds of naughty things while I’ve been away. Mmm...?’
Taking off her coat, Gillian shakes her head. It is of course a week since she was last here. Mr Vanway has closed the door and they are in the hall, the evening sun slanting in through the glass panels. Gillian can feel her heart pounding. Partly this is from riding her bike over here, about a mile, but it would be pounding anyway. Being in here alone with Mr Vanway. Those steely eyes glinting behind the spectacles. And that shiny bald head. It makes her legs feel all rubbery. And it makes her also feel a bit wet between her legs just standing here facing him. Standing with her back against the hall wall on her rubbery legs. Because it is not just Mr Vanway’s scary appearance. There is the fact of what Mr Vanway can do to you. What he will do.
Mr Vanway shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you have been a week without being naughty, Gillian. Have you got knickers on?’
She flushes. Remembering what he said last time.
‘I… uh... yes Mr Vanway.’ Last time he had said he wanted her to come round this time without knickers. As a punishment for something or other. She had assumed it was just a joke. Mr Vanway’s idea of a joke. The thought of her cycling over with no knickers under her skirt, but not really expecting her to do it.
‘Deliberate disobedience then, Gillian. Is that it?’
She mumbles something about not thinking he meant it. Mr Vanway tells her to lift her skirt. Show him her knickers.
Gillian goes redder in the face. She is wearing school uniform. White blouse under a navy cardigan with the school blue-and-green striped tie, and a grey pleated knee-length skirt. With white knee-socks and flat heel black shoes. This in fact is the uniform which only younger girls at school are required to wear; Gillian, like other Sixth Formers, is allowed to wear her own clothes as long as these meet general requirements. But Mr Vanway likes the uniform and makes her wear it when she comes to him. Gillian hates the uniform, or thinks she does. But now wearing it is part of the ritual of her tutorials with Mr Vanway. So the uniform in fact has taken on something of that scary excitement.
She is pulling up the grey skirt. Exposing her bare thighs. And then her knickers. These also are not what Gillian would normally wear, to school or anywhere else. They are old fashioned navy schoolgirl knickers, and are again an item which Mr Vanway has specified for Gillian’s evening visits. Except that for this evening he is claiming, or pretending, that he wanted no knickers at all.
She has her skirt obediently raised now. Right up to fully expose the navy knickers which are tight and form-fitting. Tight to Gillian’s rounded hips. And also tight at that bulge at the apex of her thighs. The bulge of Gillian’s pussy mound. Tight enough for Mr Vanway’s keen eyes to discern the indentation of the central vertical split.
His hand goes there. Cupping the bulge. Gillian’s breath, unconsciously held, exhales with a shuddery sigh. Mr Vanway’s finger is pushing in at the soft lips. In where she is wet. In where earlier this evening she had her own urgent fingers.
Mr Vanway, fingers groping her, says, ‘You weren’t supposed to wear any. You were supposed to be on that bike without any knickers, as a punishment from last time.’
She tries unsuccessfully to keep still. ‘I forgot. R...Really. And anyway...’ giving a forced little laugh, ‘what if someone saw me. I mean... I could h... have an accident. Fall off...’ The hand has her legs parted now. It is right in there, working at her.
Mr Vanway abruptly takes his hand away. ‘If someone saw you, Gillian, I suppose you could be taken in. For public indecency. Juvenile delinquency. Something of that sort. That would be the risk, wouldn’t it. They could send you away to a home. And then you wouldn’t be able to see that boy. Wouldn’t be able to do whatever you were doing this afternoon. Yes, we’re going to have to talk about that of course.’
They are going through now, to the room at the back which he uses for the tutorials. Walking through, Gillian with Mr Vanway’s hand at her trembly bottom. She is trembly all over, from what he has just been doing. His fingers in her pussy through the navy cotton of her knickers. He pushes open the door and she half stumbles in. She knows what to do of course. Where to go. The desk, over by the window, with its splay-backed chair.
Gillian sitting at the desk. In front of her is the essay she brought to Mr Vanway last week. It is what she wrote for Mr Farrall, her English master at school. Mr Farrall’s comments on it are in red ink, mostly critical but not too bad. But now Mr Vanway has added his own remarks in green. Unhappily Gillian turns the pages. All three are covered in the green scribbly hand. Mr Vanway had torn apart just about every sentence she has written.
He is suddenly there close in behind her. His hands pressing down on her shoulders. ‘Not too good, Gillian. In fact quite awful in my opinion.’
She mumbles that Mr Farrall didn’t say it was all that bad.
One hand comes down over her shoulder. It reaches inside Gillian’s cardigan to squeeze a nice-sized boob. ‘Well Mr Farrall is a very generous man, Gillian. Or could it be that you are allowing him special privileges to ensure favourable treatment? Letting him play with these nice big tits perhaps. Or maybe stick his finger in your pussy. Mmm? Something of that sort?’
Gillian splutters out that there is nothing like that. Nothing at all.
‘Hmm. Can you be believed, Gillian? I am not at all sure. Anyway we will need to have something for this very poor work. A spanking certainly. Indeed I am not sure it does not warrant a caning.’
A panicky yelp from Gillian. Not the cane! Mr Vanway is now leaning close over her, his face in her scented blonde hair. Both his hands are now down inside Gillian’s cardigan squeezing her tits.
‘Well we’ll see. But now tell me about this afternoon. Your friend. That Derek I suppose?’
She admits it was.
‘Well I am sure you weren’t discussing work.’
Mr Vanway’s hands leave Gillian’s tits and take hold of her shoulders. Lifting her up from the chair, he pulls her to one side, then slides his own bulky form in on the other side between the chair and the desk. And now it is Mr Vanway who is sitting and Gillian standing close at his side. His hand clutches her bottom through her skirt. Fingers reaching into the cleft.
‘No, not work,’ he continues. ‘On the contrary I imagine we were getting quite hot and steamy. Our school clothes in considerable disarray. Our knickers down perhaps — or quite possibly off altogether. And dear Derek, with his questing hands. Or maybe another questing part of his anatomy...’
Gillian protests it wasn’t like that at all. She gives a squeaky yelp. Mr Vanway’s hand has dropped down and then up again. Up the backs of her bare thighs, to her knickers. Another squeaky whimper, as the fingers dig in now through just her knickers. Searching in under the fatty overhang of her nates. Seeking, and finding, her ultra-sensitive womanly parts.
‘I am afraid I can’t believe you, Gillian. My experience of young female persons tells me I simply cannot believe you. And therefore I think we do need a little reminder. Of the virtues of truthfulness. Not to mention of course the virtue of maidenly modesty when in the absence of our parents we have invited in a boyfriend.’ A finger pokes in under the hem of Gillian’s knickers and finds the bare, moist flesh. Gillian’s warm cunt. ‘Yes. What shall it be then, that little reminder?’
Gillian, squirming, breathes, ‘Please! Not the cane!’
Mr Vanway tells her to turn, towards him, and lift her skirt. His hand has glided out from the warm and sticky crevice.
‘Please not the cane...’ Gillian repeats.. She is pulling up her skirt. When it is right up, Mr Vanway’s hand gives her pussy mound a little squeeze. Then both his hands slide her knickers down.
‘I do think you really deserve the cane,’ he observes thoughtfully. His hand returns to Gillian’s now exposed pussy.
‘No! Please no!’ Trembling at his touch but nonetheless obligingly parting her legs. To allow Mr Vanway access to what he presumably wants. Well it is better than the cane, isn’t it? It is not as bad as the cane. And maybe a show of cooperation in this can result in a lesser punishment.
Mr Vanway makes a softly sucking sound. As his fingers take advantage of what is offered.
Gillian is over Mr Vanway’s lap now. Across his thighs with her blonde head down close to the floor. The school skirt is up round her waist and her knickers are round her knees. She is feeling decidedly hot and agitated, as a result of what Mr Vanway has just been doing. Her pussy in particular is hot. Pulsating. As she stood on her rubbery legs at his side Mr Vanway with his educated fingers brought her to the edge. So that Gillian was very close to coming. But then he abruptly stopped. And made her get over his lap.
He is going to spank her bare bottom of course. Well that should not be as bad as a caning. Except for what he has done. Devilishly getting her right on the brink, so that poor Gillian is like a time bomb with a very short fuse. About to go off. When he brings that hand down.
Gillian lets out a frantic yell as the first heavy-handed spank wallops down. As hard as Mr Vanway can manage it seems. Which is undeniably hard. And when a girl has been brought to the very brink of coming...
A second heavy spank cracks down —and Gillian almost has hysterics. She can’t take this, in the state she is in. In that primed state, from Mr Vanway working her up. No! She desperately shakes her head. As another massive spank cracks down.
Afterwards Mr Vanway does bring her off. When he has finally had enough of spanking his hand down on Gillian’s succulent bottom. By this time he has been doing it with devastating effect for maybe five minutes and Gillian is in quite a state. The melon cheeks of her bottom, now a bright scarlet, writhing and rolling in an abandoned manner, with the punished girl making all kinds of despairing sounds. So it is a desperate relief certainly when he finally stops the spanking, but also more relief too when he straightaway begins the other. She really needs it and unthinkingly Gillian readily parts her legs in a somewhat libertine manner. To accept the hand which now wants to get at her wet and urgent cunt. She comes in no time flat.
Mr Vanway gives her a few moments and then pushes her to her feet. Gillian is half weeping now. Making noisy gaspy sounds. He says he will make some tea.
They will have the tea in the other room, Mr Vanway’s cosy sitting room. Gillian is still feeling decidedly fragile from her ordeal. The tears have now stopped — but she has the feeling they are not far away. She sits down in an armchair while Mr Vanway goes to make the tea. Biting her lip she raises her hands and nervously adjusts the blue ribbons which hold her blonde curls in two bunches. They are going to have some tea — and then what? Will she be able to go home then? Or...
Gillian doesn’t want to think about any ‘ors’. Because chief among them is the cane. It is not impossible that Mr Vanway may still decide that after all she is in need of it.
She has had the cane. Twice. It is too awful even to think about. Alright a spanking like the one she has just had can get you in a bit of a state. And it hurts. But... it is not the cane. Gillian makes a face. Squirms her still hot bottom on the chair. She is not going to start crying again is she? She thinks of Derek. His big stiff prick... and that urgent, desperate look on his face as she brought him close to coming. She bites her lip again. When she gets home she’ll have to go straight to bed. And as soon as she’s in bed... she’ll have to do it. Two, three times...?
Mr Vanway comes in with the tea and Gillian forces all extraneous thought out of her head. He gives her one of those scary grins and asks how she’s feeling. A hesitant ‘Alright Mr Vanway.’ He sits down on the settee, and tells her to come over there next to him.
Mr Vanway starts talking. This and that. As they sip, nervously in Gillian’s case, the tea which Mr Vanway says is best Earl Grey. She joins in as necessary, with her senses sharply attuned to what direction Mr Vanway’s talk may take. But it doesn’t go in the direction of the C.A.N.E. Well, a little threat at one point, but he doesn’t seek to develop it. It is instead something else. Mr Vanway tells her she behaved in an abandoned, not to say lascivious, manner when he had her over his lap. And her acting in this unmaidenly way inevitably had an effect on him. Getting him aroused in fact. And therefore...
By this point Gillian can pretty well guess what is coming. What Mr Vanway wants. And well, it is certainly not in the same class as a caning. No way whatsoever. No. It is in fact what earlier today she did to Derek. Precisely the same. Yes, that is what Mr Vanway wants.
With a weak little smile she slides her hand over. Onto that considerable bulge in the lap of Mr Vanway’s trousers. Gillian is still feeling distinctly fragile. But she doesn’t mind doing it. In fact if you get right down to it, it is a turn-on. Or will be afterwards. Thinking about it.
And she has done it before. Yes. Mr Vanway is bigger than Derek. Bigger than Paul Sinton. But probably she would guess not bigger than Mr Farrall.
The end of school on Thursday. Mr Farrall has asked to see Gillian and she has reported to his room. Hopefully Mr Farrall is not going to keep her long. She had been planning to walk home with Derek and invite him in for a cup of coffee. And also perhaps a spot of action. Gillian is feeling slightly edgy, keyed up. A sort of sexy edginess. That session last night with Mr Vanway has contributed to this feeling. Seeing Mr Vanway and having him do those things can have that effect on you.
Mr Farrall is about Mr Vanway’s age but is more ordinary looking, i.e. without those fierce eyes and that bald head like a film villain. Mr Farrall does have glasses but that is about the only resemblance. He is waiting for her in his room and asks, ‘Did Mr Vanway see that last essay you did?’ Gillian says yes. Mr Farrall knows she goes to see Mr Vanway, but naturally he doesn’t know what Mr Vanway does to her. Those things.
He asks what Mr Vanway thought of the essay. Gillian makes a face and says, ‘Not much. He... ah... criticised it a lot.’
Mr Farrall laughs. ‘Ah well your Mr Vanway doesn’t give you such an easy ride, does he, Gillian? I could find plenty of things to criticise but I choose not to be too severe. As you know.’
Gillian is standing at the side of his desk and he reaches for her skirt and pulls her close. She is wearing a pretty pink-and-blue flowery dress with a full, knee-length skirt. The full skirt means Mr Farrall can easily slide his hand up underneath — and this is what he does. Gillian stands still and accepts this intimacy, with no indication that such an action is a surprise or shock to her. Because it isn’t.
Yes, when Mr Vanway suggested to Gillian that she might be allowing her English master special favours in order to get a more lenient treatment he was absolutely right. Although Gillian denied it with a show of shock horror. Well, she would, wouldn’t she? But it is true. She lets him do things. Just like Mr Vanway in a way. Except that Mr Farrall is not Mr Vanway, not at all. Gillian is not scared of Mr Farrall. He is mild-mannered, pleasant. You have the feeling you can say, ‘Please sir, don’t do that,’ and you know he will stop. Although of course if you say too much of that sort of thing he is going to be harder on marking.
‘I know,’ Gillian says. Adding meekly, ‘I’m very grateful of course.’ She allows her legs to be gently pushed apart. Mr Farrall’s hand has come up the backs of her thighs under her skirt. It has now slipped in between her legs. Under her dress Gillian has a pair of brief pink nylon knickers, the sort of thing she normally wears to school, rather than those navy ones she had on last night which are strictly for Mr Vanway’s pleasure. Through the thin nylon Mr Farrall’s fingers begin lightly rubbing along the line of her slit. Gillian shifts her weight from one leg to the other. With the pretty summer dress she is wearing white patent leather shoes with medium heels. Her shapely legs are bare.
She gives a nervous little laugh. ‘You’ll get me all excited doing that.’ And Mr Farrall’s fingers are getting her going a bit. Because Gillian’s cunt is in a rather receptive state. That is why she would like to go home with Derek and maybe do some messing about on the settee. Mr Farrall’s fingers are still there, stimulating the sensitive lips of her cunt. She squirms, as into her head comes the thought of doing it. Fucking. Wondering what exactly it feels like, having a big stiff one up inside you. Derek’s, or maybe Paul Sinton’s. She has split up with Paul but he is now getting interested again, now he knows she is going with Derek. Or Mr Farrall of course. Being fucked by Mr Farrall. Not that she would let him, but just the thought of doing it. Or... Mr Vanway. Having Mr Vanway do it.
With a little gasp she pushes Mr Farrall’s hand away. ‘Ooh please...! You’ll be getting me all... well, wet.’
Mr Farrall takes his hand out and gets to his feet. He puts his arms round Gillian from behind and pulls her close. His hands close round her breasts which are in just a light bra under her dress. Mr Farrall’s window opens onto the back of the gym building, not much of a view but also it means he can’t be overlooked. So he doesn’t have to worry about the possibility of anyone seeing if he is doing something to a receptive girl.
‘Still not started doing it yet?’ he asks. ‘Not with that Derek Minfield? Or anyone else?’
‘No,’ she laughs. ‘Not yet.’ Gillian can feel Mr Farrall has an erection, it is pushing into her bottom. He rubs it against her. Then says,
‘This lovely soft bum. What it could probably do with, Gillian, is a few strokes of the cane. To make you work a little bit harder. Because you do need to work harder you know. If you want to get good grades and then a good job. Yes a brisk caning would probably help.
Gillian tries to laugh but not too successfully. Mr Farrall is joking of course. What he doesn’t know is that she has been caned. By that scary Mr Vanway. And it is not a joke. Not at all.
‘Oooh...!!’ she gasps. In mock horror, but it is not mock at all! ‘You wouldn’t do that, sir!’ And her hand reaches round behind her, to Mr Farrall’s stiff penis. Gillian grips it, squeezing. After a few seconds she lets go, and twists away from him.
She says she really has to go, her mother is expecting her home (which is not true of course). Mr Farrall is reluctant for Gillian to leave. He says he would like to take her out for a drive at the weekend. To discuss her work in more detail. She says she would like to but is not sure what she is doing. Can she let him know?
Gillian has made some coffee for Derek and they are sitting on the settee. By chance he has mentioned Mr Farrall and said he is a stiff marker of essays. Derek is not in the same form as Gillian but he also gets Mr Farrall for English. Derek saying he is a ‘stiff’ marker makes Gillian want to giggle. Because of course less than half an hour ago Mr Farrall was decidedly stiff. Pushing his stiff thing in against her bottom. And then Derek gets onto the subject of Mr Vanway which seems to intrigue him still. Gillian twists round and puts her arms round Derek.
‘Shall I tell you about Mr Vanway, Derek? Did I tell you he’s fucked me? Yes, really. Anyway I told my mother and she’s really worried, because he didn’t use a rubber or anything. And of course he wants to do it again. My mother says maybe I should get some and make him use one next time. But I can’t make him, can I?’
Actually although Gillian couldn’t resist winding Derek up like this, she didn’t really feel like joking about Mr Vanway. Not that she ever did of course. But especially not now. Because she was going to have to see him on Friday. An extra visit to make up for the one she missed on Monday. And just before she left, yesterday, Mr Vanway said, ‘And on Friday, Gillian, I really do think we need to have the cane. A quite hard, no nonsense caning. I’m sure the effect of those earlier canings I gave you has completely worn off.’
Gillian is riding her bike to Mr Vanway’s house. To say she is not looking forward to her evening session would be a considerable understatement. She always has that scared feeling but often there is also an excitement too, not exactly looking forward to it but undoubtedly a frisson of anticipation. Because those hands of his, although they’re awful, can also turn a girl on. That awful groping. Mr Farrall gropes too of course but somehow it is not awful with Mr Farrall. You can keep some control with Mr Farrall. But not with Mr Vanway. No way! But even though it is awful it can be a turn-on. But not tonight. Not with the virtual promise of a caning! Her poor bottom!
Gillian’s bottom is in fact tonight nude under her grey school skirt. After a little bit of thought she has decided it is best to take seriously what he said about no knickers. Perhaps making a show of doing every little thing he wants, or suggests, could make a difference. Could make Mr Vanway change his mind. About the caning. Well you never know. So Gillian has not put any on. But she has brought a pair of those navy schoolgirl ones in her coat pocket, just in case Mr Vanway decides he would like her in them. She is wearing a coat on top of the uniform, as she usually does going to Mr Vanway, not wishing to be seen in it now she is a sixth-former. Having no knickers on gives you a funny feeling. There is the thought of it, and also the fact of it. The fact of it being that you can feel the cool breeze wafting up around your bare pussy as you push on the pedals. In other circumstances it might be an exciting, sexy feeling. But tonight Gillian can only really think of that cane. Though she is certainly aware of her bare, exposed pussy.
The other thing is that Gillian is going out with Mr Farrall this weekend for a drive in his car. On Sunday afternoon. She has decided he is right, she does need to do all she can to get good grades. And keeping in with Mr Farrall is part of that, if only because Mr Farrall has told her he knows someone who is involved in marking the English papers and also knows someone else who is a friend of someone marking History. So there is a possibility that her papers could be more favourably treated. Mr Farrall has made hints in that direction. What does he want to be maybe co-operative in this? Well, unfortunately Mr Farrall has now mentioned the cane. Was he joking? Gillian fervently hopes so. The thought of being caned by Mr Vanway, and then by Mr Farrall is simply too, too much.
The other possibility of course is that, in exchange for help with the exams, Mr Farrall might want to fuck her. Is that possible? Gillian thinks it is certainly possible. And if he did want to? Would she agree? She has spent a good deal of time thinking about this one. And has decided that if Mr Farrall could deliver the goods, well, the answer could be yes.
That may come up tomorrow of course. It is quite possible Mr Farrall will allude to it. But — that is tomorrow and she can’t worry about it today. Today, this evening...
No! Don’t think about it!