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Saturday, 2 February 2019

Amanda’s Adventures 1 — The Squash Club

From Blushes 75
Amanda Wilmott had only recently transferred to St Dominic’s School, as a result of her father’s new job and hence the family’s move to Sussex. It was exciting, moving all the way from the country town in Gloucestershire where she had grown up. There would no doubt be many exciting new experiences in store. But at the same time the move was the cause of sharp unhappiness because Amanda was leaving behind her boyfriend Michael. That was a big thing when you were seventeen. Mike, the same age, was also very unhappy because his Amanda was so attractive: a lovely girl with curling chestnut-brown hair and big brown eyes and a stunning figure too.
‘But you’ll be able to come and visit a lot,’ Amanda had stressed. She had naturally said that the last night before leaving when she and Mike had gone out in his father’s car. They had parked and she had unzipped Mike’s trousers and taken his hot stiff organ in her soft hand.
‘You’ll have to visit me a whole lot,’ she repeated, firmly pumping Mike’s ardent flesh. And then Amanda did something she wouldn’t usually do but this particular night she wanted to show Mike that she really loved him and didn’t want to be going away. So she bent her head and took Mike’s stiff cock in her mouth. Took as much of it in her mouth as she could and then commenced ardently sucking it. Mike had come almost immediately and Amanda had kept it in her mouth, taking it all, gagging slightly but continuing to suck. And swallow.
As it happened Mike wasn’t able to visit right away, not during the first two weeks anyway. Amanda’s mother said it wasn’t convenient and anyway Amanda should think of making other friends and not think only about Mike. What Sylvia Wilmott thought of course was that it would be sensible for Amanda to find another boyfriend now they had moved and as Amanda was such a pretty girl she would have no trouble finding someone nice. She didn’t actually say this to her daughter but Amanda guessed what she thought. She wanted to tell her mother what she had done with Mike on that last evening that she had let him come in her mouth — but perhaps sensibly she decided not to.
‘Next weekend then, please!’ Amanda pleaded but only got a noncommittal response. When she phoned Mike, though, she translated this into a pretty definite yes. Mike of course was desperate to get together too. When you were seventeen and had a lovely girlfriend who had gone off to the other end of the country where naturally there were other boys you couldn’t help having all manner of dreadful thoughts. Amanda going out with someone else, if not already then tomorrow or the next day. Going out — and quite possibly being persuaded to do what she had done on those rare occasions with himself. Sucking this other boy’s cock.
St Dominic’s was a mixed school so there were boys and maybe some of them were alright but Amanda wasn’t interested. There were boys and there were masters too. St Hilda’s back in Gloucestershire had been all girls with a virtually all-female staff. Now Mr Mather, Amanda’s new English teacher, for instance was not all that old, thirty perhaps, and not bad-looking. Whereas Mr Ponsonby, the only male at St Hilda’s must have been at least sixty (though possessing a hand that was still capable of sneakily tweaking a girl’s bottom, Amanda’s included).
Mr Mather at the end of Amanda’s second week told her to stay behind at lunchtime. Mr Mather wasn’t pleased with Amanda’s essay — and she herself knew it wasn’t very good. Mainly because she hadn’t been able to concentrate: thinking about Mike of course.
‘Your work had better show a real improvement my girl.’ Mr Mather’s keen eyes drilled into her as she stood in front of his desk. ‘Otherwise I shall take matters into my own hands. Do you know what that means?’
Amanda shook her head. Mr Mather grinned. ‘What it means for a pretty female member of the Sixth who is not working properly is that I make her take her knickers down and then lift up her skirt and get over my lap. And then I give her bare bottom a really good walloping.’
Amanda went bright red, not really able to believe her ears. Mr Mather went on, ‘I’m not joking. Do you think I’m joking? Come round here.’
Amanda stumbled round to stand next to Mr Mather. Was he maybe going to spank her bottom right now, incredible though it might seem?
‘Have you ever had it spanked?’ Mr Mather asked. And then as red-faced Amanda shook her head she felt the English master’s hand there. At her bottom. Through her thin summer skirt it was gripping the nearside, left cheek. Not one of those quick sneaky feels that old Mr Ponsonby back at St Hilda’s would give you if he got the chance, a snatched finger-and-thumb tweaking of an inch of flesh. No this was his whole hand firmly cupping the full cheek, with his fingers pushing deep in the dividing cleft. Amanda gave a shocked little moan.
Somehow she stuttered an answer to his question — which was of course no she had never had her bottom spanked. (Well maybe there had been the odd slap from her mother when she was smaller but nothing like the sickening thing Mr Mather was talking about.) His hand was still gripping her bottom-cheek. Jiggling it a bit now.
‘Well I would certainly do it,’ Mr Mather said. ‘In fact I would love to do it, to such a pretty girl and with such a lovely bottom. Eh? Maybe we should try it right now. Yes? Shall we have you take your knickers down right now. Miss?’
But Mr Mather didn’t do that. Didn’t make Amanda take her knickers down there and then in the now empty classroom. But he insisted he would, the next time, if he wasn’t satisfied with her work.
Finally allowed to go, with the feel of Mr Mather’s hand still tingling her bottom, Amanda tottered out on rubbery legs with her head in a spin. Mr Mather had to be joking. Didn’t he? Yes he had to be… except that he had done a very good job of convincing her that he wasn’t. That he really meant it. And of course there was a very real chance that her next essay wouldn’t be too good either, with the distractions of the new school and especially the distracting thoughts of Mike all those miles away.
But really Mr Mather couldn’t carry out his threat. Could he possibly do it to other girls? Amanda would have liked to ask another girl but didn’t feel she knew anyone well enough yet for such an embarrassing topic. Could she go to the Head, Mr Cranleigh, and tell him? Or perhaps the Deputy, Mr Lanley? No, Amanda couldn’t see herself going to one or other of them either. So what was she going to do?
Still able to think of nothing much else (Mr Mather and his shocking hand had even temporarily pushed thoughts of Mike out of her head) Amanda had happened to meet Mr Lanley as she was leaving school that Friday afternoon. He smiled and asked her how she was settling in.
‘OK, thank you sir,’ Amanda said. Mr Lanley was also youngish with a neat trimmed beard. She hadn’t had much to do with him so far but he seemed quite nice. But then so had awful Mr Mather until this afternoon.
‘I know it must be difficult, in a new town and a new school as well. Making new friends. It helps to have some contacts outside school. Do you play squash by any chance? I play myself and we’ve got a very good squash club in the town.’
Amanda said she had played a few times (with Mike in fact) but didn’t really play. But Mr Lanley was urging her and maybe it didn’t sound like a bad idea. And if it meant she got to know Mr Lanley better she might even be able to summon up enough courage to broach the subject of Mr Mather and his dread threat of a bare-bottomed spanking.
Mr Lanley was evidently an enthusiast and seemed keen for immediate action. He said Amanda could come round to his house in the morning and he would take her to the club. He said she could get changed at his house.
Amanda wondered a bit about that. Why couldn’t she change into her white sports things at home, and maybe put a coat on top? But Mr Lanley had said change at his house. Then she thought that perhaps he might intend taking her for coffee somewhere, before or after, and she would need to wear her normal clothes for that. Yes that must be it, or something like that.
What Amanda hadn’t imagined — it had not even entered her head — was that the Deputy Head wanted to watch her changing. He wanted to watch her stripping off, to reveal the gorgeous full-fleshed body that was clearly underneath Amanda’s school skirt and blouse. That was what Tony Lanley was eager to see: Amanda Wilmott’s ripely rounded tits and her equally ripe bottom (which it seemed his colleague Rodney Mather also had designs on).
No, Amanda had never imagined such a thing, but Mr Lanley lost no time in making his intentions plain once she arrived at his house on Saturday morning. The smiling Deputy Head, who had made sure his wife was out shopping, said his pretty visitor could get changed in one of the bedrooms. He conducted her upstairs and into a small bedroom, then sat down on the bed. Smiling again.
‘OK? You don’t mind if I watch? As you’re such a lovely girl. And a pretty Sixth Former doesn’t have any secrets from her Deputy Head does she? Tell me, do you have a boyfriend? But you must do. I suppose he’s back there, in the West Country isn’t it? Poor Amanda! And poor boyfriend too of course. Tell me, are you, you know a virgin?’
It all quite took Amanda’s breath away. As much as her encounter with Mr Mather had the previous day. Mr Lanley wanting to watch her get undressed — not to mention his query as to whether she was a virgin. She shook her head, conscious that she was flushing scarlet.
‘I uh… please…’
But Mr Lanley was brushing aside Amanda’s stuttered protestations. She wasn’t a silly little girl, was she? He expected girls in the Lower Sixth to be grown up and sensible. And it wasn’t very grown up to be coy about showing her body to one friendly male in the privacy of his home. Especially when he was quite sure she had such a truly lovely body. And then Mr Lanley went back to the other thing. Was she a virgin? He wanted to know.
Amanda was now reluctantly taking off her coat. Standing in front of the seated Mr Lanley with her pulse pounding and her head spinning. ‘Yes…’ she spluttered. ‘Yes I…’
‘You don’t sound all that sure,’ Mr Lanley grinned up at her. ‘So perhaps when you’ve got your things off… I had perhaps better check.’
Amanda was taking her things off. Because it seemed there was no choice. While trying to ignore that last awful thing Mr Lanley had said. Her coat now off and her reluctant fingers at the buttons of her blouse. As it was Saturday Amanda wasn’t wearing her white school blouse but a pretty blue-and-white flower-patterned one with darker blue buttons. The buttons were now all unfastened, to reveal what was underneath: which was just a lightweight white bra and Amanda. Her soft pale flesh. And now more of the flesh and more of the bulging bra as with a quick desperate look at Mr Lanley and then averting her eyes Amanda did what she had to do: peel the blouse right off.
‘Lovely!’ Mr Lanley breathed. ‘But keep going. And I should like everything off, before you put your squash things on. I mean including knickers and bra.’
Amanda could feel herself sweating. Pinpricks of perspiration everywhere. Trying not to think, to distance her mind from what she was doing and showing. From what she was going to have to do and show. Because she was going to have to stand here quite nude in front of Mr Lanley. She wanted to blurt out: NO! NO! NO…OOO! But no words were coming out. She was just desperately doing it.
Her dark knee-length skirt. Her waist slip. And then… the slim-strapped lightweight bra. Her hands behind unfastening and then sliding the cups forward and off. To free her full ripe-nippled boobs. There was the urge to cover them with her hands now, but she knew Mr Lanley wouldn’t want that. He wanted to see them. And anyway her hands had to do something else. They had to slide her brief white knickers down. Down and off. Mr Lanley wanted her knickers off.
Finally Amanda stood trembling nude. The pretty tits, now stiff-nippled with her hot embarrassment, sticking out at Mr Lanley and quivering with her every panting breath. And below and equally bare was the thick chestnut fleece of her pussy bush. Mr Lanley’s sharp eyes were drinking it all in. The whole of Amanda’s lovely body but especially the tits and her pussy mound. It was the latter that his eyes were particularly centred on when he spoke. That bright brown bush with underneath on the undercurve of flesh a clear glimpse of Amanda’s slit peeping through.
‘Lovely! Aren’t you lovely! And now… let me make that little check.’
No!!’ she breathed. ‘No!! No…ooo…
But Mr Lanley just laughed. Getting up from the bed now. ‘Yes. Don’t be a silly girl. I only want to check. Get on the bed. On your back. And open your legs. With your knees up.
----//----
At the Squash Club Amanda played two games, first against Mr Lanley and then against this other club member called Major Powell.
Against Mr Lanley it was immediately hopeless. He was very fit and also an experienced player, able each time he hit the ball to place it precisely as far away from Amanda as possible. She was very soon a sweating, ragged wreck from her desperate and mostly futile attempts to retrieve the ball. At the end of the game Amanda was in tears: she had failed to score even one point.
‘Don’t take it to heart,’ Mr Lanley sympathised putting his arm round Amanda. ‘You just need a bit of practice.
‘Actually you showed a few promising moves.’
As the poor girl continued with her exhausted sobs Mr Lanley pulled her closer against him. His hands did things behind her. Lifting her short skirt to her waist, and then his right hand taking hold of Amanda’s ripe bottom through her brief skin-tight, sweat-wet knickers.
‘Yes, quite promising,’ he told her as his fingers stroked and fondled.
There was a cup of coffee and a short break and then it was time for the second session, with Major Powell. The major was somewhat older man, perhaps fifty, with a military moustache, who had keenly watched Amanda’s earlier performance and no doubt as keenly awaited his own turn. Although older he was still in good trim and also, as was soon evident, another expert at the game. So it was immediately the same hopeless story for Amanda. Perhaps even more so as she was now inevitably feeling the effects of her earlier desperate efforts. Yes, it was another rout; another failure to gain even a single point.
The major, like Mr Lanley before him, was sympathetic and commiserating at the end of the debacle. Yes, she did show promise, he assured the again tearful and panting girl. Like Mr Lanley his sympathetic arms went round Amanda. And like Mr Lanley’s his sympathetic hands proceeded to feel the sweat-drenched Amanda up. She was feeling too utterly drained and exhausted to even think of trying to squirm her body away from the groping hands. Major Powell was murmuring that all she needed was practice and he was at her disposal to provide that at any time. Perhaps they could agree an early repeat date.
In all those long and desperate minutes — it had felt like hours, an eternity — on the court first with Mr Lanley and then the major Amanda had been quite unable to think. But now as she recovered just a little bit the dreadful memory came darting back: that last bit at Mr Lanley’s house when he had carried out his ‘check’. Lying as instructed on the bed. On her back with her legs parted. While his hand… his probing fingers. At the time it had certainly seemed the worst possible experience Amanda had ever suffered. Now of course there was this further dreadful experience on the squash court. Equally bad? Or worse? It was impossible to say, the thought of either was quite devastating. Yes she was quite devastated. But was it all now, for the moment at least, finished?
Well maybe and maybe not. Mr Lanley was now back on the scene. Taking her from the solicitous major.
‘Yes, I’m sure she’d love an early repeat game with you, Major. I’ll arrange it, without fail. But right now I do think my young lady has had enough. A shower I think and then a nice rub down and that’ll be it for today.’
There was a separate ladies changing room and shower so at least that was going to be alright, Amanda thought. Meaning that Mr Lanley wouldn’t be able to come in and… do anything. But he did come in with her. There was a young woman in the changing room. Mr Lanley explained that Amanda was new to the club and then said something else that Amanda couldn’t catch. The young woman, introduced as Karen, smiled and nodded.
Amanda had her shower. When she came out there was Karen with a little grin and a towel in her hand. ‘Get dried, dear, and then he wants you through in there.’ She pointed to a door on the far side of the room.
It was another, smaller, changing room with lockers and benches. Karen had closed the door behind Amanda. She could feel her pulse begin to race again. Mr Lanley… The little room was empty… And then he appeared from a door on the opposite side. Mr Lanley had a white towel wrapped round his waist but was otherwise apparently nude. The men’s changing room must be through there and Mr Lanley had had his shower. And now…
He was bolting the door behind him. Then going to bolt the door through which Amanda had entered. Amanda pink and glowing from her shower and like Mr Lanley with just a fluffy white towel wrapped round her.
Mr Lanley grinned. His eyes seemed to be sparkling. ‘Lovely Amanda. You do look lovely. You really do things to me, my dear. Do you know that?’
Amanda mumbled something, she wasn’t sure what. Mr Lanley was sitting down on the bench now. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. Look.’
He was pulling open the towel. To reveal that he indeed had nothing on underneath. And perhaps more to the point he had a large and fully stiff erection.
‘What do you think?’ he said to the startled girl. ‘What do you think about this? Look at the state you’ve got me in. We’ll have to do something about it. Won’t we? Lovely Amanda will have to do something about it.’
Amanda thought she was going to faint.
‘It’s alright,’ Mr Lanley said. ‘We know you’re a virgin, don’t we? So we won’t worry about that. But something else, eh? Something that I’m sure you do for that boy back in the West Country. I’m sure pretty Amanda can oblige with that.’
What Mr Lanley meant was suck. He wanted her to suck him. To kneel down between his spread thighs as he sat on the bench. And suck that big greedy-looking penis.
----//----
Amanda couldn’t believe it. She just couldn’t believe it! What she had done at the Squash Club. With (or more precisely to) Mr Lanley, Deputy Head at St Dominic’s. No, it wasn’t possible, she must have dreamt it.
They were back at Mr Lanley’s house now, a ten-minute drive from the Squash Club, and so a mere twenty minutes or so from the actual event because right afterwards they had both got dressed and gone out to Mr Lanley’s car. So just twenty minutes ago Amanda had been kneeling between Mr Lanley’s hairy bare thighs with in her mouth…
No! It wasn’t possible. It was some sort of dream; or a mental aberration of some description. And stop thinking about it!
Here they were in Mr Lanley’s house again, and very shortly she would be able to leave and forget that whole nightmare episode at the club. If she could ever forget it! But it was over and she would certainly refuse ever to go there again. She just had to collect her street clothes which had been left in Mr Lanley’s bedroom (and that was another nightmare memory that surely she must also have dreamt up?). But get her things and then go home… Yes.
Inside his front door Mr Lanley said ‘Wasn’t that good? I do feel great, after a lovely work-out like that. The squash and then of course the other. You really are a lovely girl, Amanda.’
Amanda didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She could feel herself flushing a deep red though.
‘Yes. Anyway there’s just one thing. Before you go. A little matter that Mr Mather mentioned to me. He said he thought your English essay was not really up to scratch. Of course we both understand that you’re still settling in, but even so…’
Amanda could feel that rubbery feeling in her knees. That fainty feeling in her stomach.
‘Anyway I believe he told you his preferred remedy.’ Mr Lanley laughed. ‘It does tend to be the action of choice for a pretty girl. Yes? He told you?’
Amanda’s knees were going to give way. ‘Y Y… Yes. Yessir.’
‘Yes. Good. Your knickers down and your skirt up and taking you over his lap. To give that lovely bottom a nice sharp warming up. Wasn’t that it?’
Mr Lanley’s hand reached out. To give a little squeeze to one of Amanda’s shapely boobs.
‘Anyway, what I thought was that as you are new I might… ah… reinforce the message. You know what I mean? I might… well… do likewise.’
And that, incredible as it might seem, to Amanda Wilmott at least, was what Mr Lanley did. Not upstairs where the previous business had taken place but downstairs in his cosy sitting room. Making Amanda take down her knickers and lift her skirt up round her waist and then get over his lap. To then deliver a lengthy series of hard, crisp spanks to her bare and arrogantly thrusting nether cheeks. And then when he had finally finished and had rendered the cheeks bright red-hot, and indeed had got Amanda in a general extremely hot and bothered state Mr Lanley did something else. His hand sliding underneath and in between the chastised cheeks. To take firm hold of her pussy.
Perhaps Mr Lanley considered that the lovely girl needed it. A release from all the emotion that a hard bare-bottomed spanking can engender. Anyway his evidently practised fingers got quickly to work. Amanda’s pussy which of course he was already familiar with from that intimate and detailed examination he had carried out earlier in the morning. With all that had happened, culminating in the vigorous spanking, Amanda’s pussy was wet and ready. It did not take long, a few moments only it seemed of expert manipulation, and Amanda came off like a Roman Candle.

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