Julie Ward was late.
Dressed only in her underwear, she frantically brushed her teeth while
constantly checking her wristwatch. It
was 8:44am – she had just sixteen minutes to get dressed and cycle to school.
She spat, rinsed her mouth out, replaced her toothbrush in its holder
then raced through to her bedroom to put on her clothes.
She threw on a shirt and her school tie, then rummaged around for one of
her grey pleated skirts. Normally
she would have put on her jeans in order to cycle to school, but today she just
did not have time to change twice.
“Dad!” she called out.
“Where’s my skirt?”
“There should be one hanging in your
closet,” came her father’s reply.
“Not this one, I mean one of my new
skirts.”
“They’re both in the washing
machine. You’ll have to wear the
old one.”
Julie cursed under her breath.
Her only clean skirt was about five years old and was far too small for
her. The thought of cycling to
school in it … well, it hardly bore thinking about.
Nevertheless, she had no choice. It
was now 8:46am and the cycle ride would take at least ten minutes.
Hurriedly she pulled the skirt on and hoisted it up to her waist, tucking
her shirt in before attempting to fasten the waistband.
‘Good grief,’ she thought to herself, ‘have I really grown so much
in the last five years?’
She had to take a deep breath to get the
waistband clipped and buttoned into place.
Even on its widest setting it was still rather too tight for comfort.
And the length! With horror
she realised that the hem of the skirt was well above mid-thigh – in fact it
was probably only three or four inches below her crotch.
However, there was no time to waste in worrying about it.
She quickly donned her shoes and grabbed her blazer before running down
the stairs two at a time.
Her father was at the foot of the
stairs, smiling at her and holding her backpack.
“Your lunchbox is in there,” he said.
“Ham sandwiches today.”
“Thanks Dad,” Julie said
breathlessly.
“I’ve got your bike out of the
garage,” her father went on. “It’s
by the front door. Hurry now –
you have exactly eleven minutes.”
“I know I know,” she said.
“Bye then!” She kissed
him on the cheek.
“Um, that skirt really is short,
isn’t it?” he observed with a raised eyebrow, staring at her hemline.
Julie rolled her eyes.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered.
“Just please try to have my other skirts dry for tomorrow, okay?”
“You can count on it,” he replied.
“I’m really sorry you have to cycle – I’ll hopefully get the car
fixed within the next couple of days.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“See you this afternoon.”
Julie flung herself out of the house and
jumped on her bicycle. As she
pedalled out on to the road, she realised with a sinking heart that the wind
would be against her all the way. This
would add at least two minutes to her journey time.
Her first class was with Miss Weaver, a middle-aged tyrant who abhorred
tardiness above all other classroom crimes.
Julie was going to be in trouble.
While in the relative seclusion of the
quiet roads around her housing estate, she threw caution to the wind and stood
up to pedal, getting up quite a speed despite the breeze.
Her skirt blew this way and that, and her heart pounded as she imagined
faces pressed to windows on either side of the road, lustful eyes staring at her
frequently-revealed panties. She
forced herself to dismiss these thoughts – at this time of the morning, anyone
who had to work today would already have left, and most of those who had the day
off would probably not be up yet. It
would be pure chance if anyone spotted her.
When she reached the busy main road,
however, she sat down, tucking the back of her skirt under her bottom so that it
would stay in place. She kept
pedalling as hard as she could, but the wind made it very difficult to maintain
a decent speed. It was also blowing
the front of her skirt up from time to time, and she tried desperately hard not
to meet the eyes of passers-by on the pavement.
Some of these, she could tell, had their eyes glued to her crotch in the
hope of being afforded just one more flash of white before she passed.
More often than not they were rewarded.
Julie’s cheeks were crimson with embarrassment.
She also noticed that passing cars were
slowing down as they approached her, and one or two of them honked their horns
in appreciation. She ducked her
head and tried to ignore them.
She finally reached the school at two
minutes past nine. She parked her
bicycle in the bike shed, locked it, and ran indoors. As she approached Miss Weaver’s classroom she tried not to
think of what her classmates would think of her skirt. She tried to pull it down a fraction, but the waistband was
already around the lowest part of her waist and would not shift any lower.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.
“Enter!” came the voice of Miss
Weaver.
Julie opened the door and walked in.
“Sorry I’m late, Miss Weaver,” she said.
“This morning just went from one disaster to the next.
First my Dad announced that the car wouldn’t start…”
Miss Weaver held up her hand to stem the
flow. “I’m not interested in
your excuses, Julie. Take your seat
– you have a cross.”
Julie’s face fell.
She had already been given three crosses this month, two for running in
the corridor, and one for swearing within earshot of a member of staff.
One more and she would have to do Extra Work on Saturday, and report to the headmaster every morning before school until the
end of the month.
“Yes Miss Weaver,” said Julie, and
began to walk to her desk.
“And just what do you call that … thing
you’re wearing?” demanded Miss Weaver.
“Is it a skirt or a belt?”
Julie blushed bright red as her
classmates roared with laughter. “Silence!”
snapped Miss Weaver. “My
classroom is not a place for laughter. You’re
here to work. Get to your seat,
Julie, and don’t let me see you wearing that skirt tomorrow, is that
understood? The rule is no more
than three inches above the knee.”
“Yes Miss Weaver. My Dad decided to wash all my other skirts today – I
didn’t have anything else…”
“Remember what I said about excuses,
Julie? I … am … not …
interested.”
“Yes Miss Weaver.”
Julie sat down, feeling totally humiliated.
As she got her books out the boy sitting at the desk to her left leaned
over towards her.
“Don’t let old Dragonbreath get to
you, Julie,” he whispered. “I
think your skirt looks fantastic.”
“Thanks Mark,” said Julie
gratefully. “But it’s only for
the one day, I’m afraid, so don’t get your hopes up.
My Dad promised me that my others would be dry for tomorrow.”
“That’s a pity,” Mark commented
with a wry smile.
Julie’s next class was history.
Mr Dennis, the history teacher, did not comment on her skirt, but he
could hardly take his eyes off it as she walked into the classroom.
She quickened her step and sat down at the back of the classroom.
The desks either side of her were very rapidly occupied by boys who were
showing more than a passing interest in her outfit for the day.
“Nice skirt,” said David.
“Lovely
skirt,” added Chris.
Julie was indifferent to the attentions
of David, a freckle-faced little boy with a nasally voice that had still not
broken. Chris, on the other hand,
was quite another matter. He was
tall and good-looking, and had at various times been ‘romantically’ linked
with several of the prettiest girls in the school.
Julie had no objection whatever to turning Chris’s head.
“Thank you,” she said to him
graciously, blushing once again.
“You couldn’t turn a little towards
me, could you?” inquired Chris. “I’d
never noticed how nice your legs are, and I’ll like to get a better look.”
Chris was, in truth, inclined to be
boorish, but Julie was too busy enjoying the attention to mind his crass
forwardness. She turned her knees
towards him, smiling shyly.
“My word!”
Chris’s gaze was transfixed. “That’s
a pretty sight.” Then he leaned
forward and whispered, “Would you mind just parting your knees a little,
Julie?”
Julie was, if truth be told, a little
shocked by this, but she was determined not to disappoint him.
She leaned forward herself and whispered back to him, “Practically the
whole world saw my panties as I rode into school this morning.
I don’t suppose it will make a difference if you do the same.”
She opened her legs a little, taking care that nobody else was watching
at the time, and allowed Chris to glimpse her panties before, with a sudden
misgiving, she put her knees back together and tucked them under the desk.
“Excellent!” Chris was delighted. “Hey,
do you want to meet me in the French Room storage cupboard during Break?”
Julie fought hard to suppress the broad
grin which threatened to break out on her face. “Hmm, okay,” she said.
She had pulled Chris!
Her heart pounded so loudly that she feared everyone would hear it.
She never thought she would be alone in the French Room cupboard with a
stud like Chris. It was like a
dream come true.
Pencil-droppers abounded during the
history lesson. Julie thought she
would be very annoyed about this, but in fact she was beginning to enjoy being
the centre of attention. Of course
she did not let any of these boys see her panties, but she was well aware that
they could see almost all of her thighs. A
few of the girls gave her some nasty looks, but all she did was shrug helplessly
in response as if to say ‘I’m really sorry – but what can I do?’
The bell rang, signalling the end of the
history lesson, and the beginning of Break.
She slipped off to the French Room, with Chris following behind at a
discreet distance. A moment later
they were both in the storage cupboard, and Chris closed the door behind him.
He turned to face her, grinning mischievously.
“Hello, sexy,” he said.
Julie blushed and fidgeted awkwardly.
She had never done anything like this before, and although she was
well-versed in the theory of ‘making out’, she was a little at a loss to
know how to begin. Would he
initiate their first kiss? Or
should she step forward and present her lips for him?
Or what?
But it turned out that kissing was not
at the forefront of Chris’s mind. He
sat down on the floor and gestured for Julie to join him. She did so, sitting down next to him with her knees together,
and pulled the hem of her skirt down as far as it would go, which was not very
far at all.
“No need to be modest on my
account,” said Chris, and he placed his hand on her thigh.
Slowly he moved his hand higher up her leg, slipping it beneath the
material of her skirt, continuing on until he reached her panties.
Julie was torn between her instinctive
outrage that he should touch her in such an intimate place without so much as a
by-your-leave, and the intense arousal that she was experiencing as his hand –
Chris’s hand! – stroked and squeezed the flesh of her upper thigh.
And then … oh, he was stroking her pussy, through the thin material of
her panties. She felt light-headed.
Her breath was coming in gasps. Her
crotch felt hot and she could feel it getting increasingly wet.
Arching her back, she slid down on to her back as Chris leaned over to
kiss her.
The kiss was exquisite.
Julie closed her eyes and parted her lips to allow Chris’s tongue to
enter her mouth. She caressed his
tongue with hers, losing herself in the oral embrace, only vaguely aware that
his fingers were pulling the fabric of her cotton panties to one side.
Only when he began to stroke around her clitoris with his middle finger
did she fully realise what he intended to do.
But she was beyond caring. She
parted her legs and moaned with pleasure as his probing finger began to enter
her by now well-lubricated cunt.
Sliding his finger in and out of her
with a steady rhythm, Chris worked his way further and further into her until he
could go no deeper. “Not a
virgin, huh?” he asked her in a soft voice.
Julie was instantly brought back to
shameful reality. She brought her
knees together and covered her face with her hands.
“Hey, it’s okay,” said Chris.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of.
I was just making an observation – it doesn’t matter one way or the
other.”
“I am
a virgin,” whispered Julie, blushing bright red. “But … I once, you know, experimented. With a carrot.”
“A carrot?” Chris seemed to find this terribly funny.
“Really?”
“Just, please
don’t tell anyone.” Julie
was terrified of this information being broadcast to the rest of the school.
“Relax.
I won’t tell anyone. Now
calm down and stop worrying. Where
were we?”
They resumed their kissing, and Chris
began to work a second finger inside her. “Isn’t
this nice?” he asked her, and she nodded silently.
A few moments later Chris withdrew his
fingers and started to try to pull Julie’s panties down.
“What are you doing?” she asked him,
a little nervously.
“I’m taking your panties off,” he
said. “Wouldn’t you like to
have sex?”
Julie gasped. “Isn’t it a bit soon, don’t you think?”
Chris smiled and shrugged.
“Why too soon? Sex is great! Why
waste time just making out when you could be having sex?”
“Because,” said Julie, “well for
one thing I am very definitely too young to get pregnant, thank you very
much.”
Chris pulled a small flat package out of
his trouser pocket. “Ta-daa,”
he said. “See? Protection.”
“How many girls have you had sex
with?” asked Julie suspiciously.
“Three,” said Chris.
“And I’m hopefully about to make it four.
Are you game?”
Julie hesitated. She was definitely horny and she had fantasised about having
sex with boys such as Chris, but this was all happening rather too quickly for
her liking.
“Maybe tomorrow?” she said.
“I don’t feel ready just yet.”
“Tomorrow,” said Chris, “I may
have someone else in here. You have
to take your opportunities when they present themselves.”
“Someone else?” echoed Julie in
alarm. “But … I thought…” She broke off, dismayed.
“Julie, you are looking sensational in
this skirt of yours today. I never
really paid much attention to you before, but today you have really caught my
eye. However you should know that
I’m still going out with Tracy, and I’m not about to dump her.”
“You’re not?” Julie was terribly crestfallen.
She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.
“Hey, don’t be upset,” said Chris,
patting her knee in an awkward attempt to console her.
“I’m not saying I won’t want to make out with you again.
Especially if you wear this skirt again.
It’s really incredible. Do
you realise how irresistible you look in it?”
“I feel practically naked when I’m
wearing it,” Julie said dolefully. “I
feel like everyone’s staring at me.”
“They might very well be,” Chris
conceded. “But is that such a bad
thing? Think of whose eye you might
be catching. Do you fancy Freddie
Black at all?”
“Gosh yes,” said Julie, her
depression lifting for a moment. “Who
wouldn’t?”
Chris chuckled. “Well, me for one. But
when I saw him after first lesson he remarked to me that you were looking good
today. I think you could pull him
quite easily if you try.”
“Oh don’t talk silly,” Julie said
dismissively. Then she frowned.
“Did he really say that?”
“He did.
And I’m not being silly. I
think he wouldn’t take much persuading to come in here with you.
Would you like me to ask him for you?”
“I don’t think so,” said Julie.
“Will he actually want to go out with me, or will he just want a
quickie in here and then go back to his girlfriend?”
“Probably the latter,” admitted
Chris. “But it’s better than
nothing, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
Julie was not convinced.
“Why don’t you let me show you how
good it is,” said Chris, leaning forward to kiss her on the lips.
Julie thought about this.
“Not this time,” she said, and she got to her feet.
“I’ll see you around, Chris.”
She walked out of the French Room cupboard and left him to his
frustration.
The next class was Geography, a subject
which she found only a little less enthralling than watching paint dry.
She sat right at the back, and was flanked, as in the history lesson, by
two boys who had beaten off the competition in order to sit next to her.
“Hello Graham, hello Rob,” she
greeted them. “I suppose you like
my skirt, huh?”
“It’s amazing,” said Graham.
“Fabulous,” agreed Rob.
“Yeah, whatever,” she said.
Graham was a nerd, it was generally
agreed, although he was not really smart enough to fit the classic definition of
the word. He was completely and
utterly smitten with Julie. Rob, on
the other hand, was a great big football-playing lad, with a pleasant enough
personality but a face like a poorly-sculpted breeze block.
Graham seemed to have no conception of
the meaning of the word ‘subtlety’. Not
two feet from Julie, he knocked an eraser off his desk and bent down to look for
it. He took a long time about
finding it, and Julie, on a sudden impulse, spread her knees wide for a second
before putting them back together. Graham’s
face when he surfaced a moment later was a picture of unparalleled joy and
wonder.
Rob, despite his size and ungainliness,
was far more subtle in his approach. He
was sharing a double-width desk with Julie, and he was sitting on her right, so
his left hand was free even when he was writing.
About halfway through the lesson, he casually placed his hand on
Julie’s thigh, just below the hemline of her skirt.
Julie was startled, and brushed his hand away. But when it slyly returned two minutes later, she thought to
herself, ‘I wonder just how far he intends to go?’ He really was quite a nice boy, despite his wandering hand,
and she decided that at least this would liven up the lesson a bit.
Rob’s hand disappeared beneath her
skirt. She nonchalantly ignored it,
writing down everything the teacher was saying while not taking in a single
word. When he started to slip a
finger inside her panties, however, she stopped him.
At lunch, Julie sat on a bench in the
schoolyard, eating her sandwiches, while passing boys kept trying to sneak a
look up her skirt. She was
beginning to get a little blasé about it.
“How can
you wear something that short!” exclaimed Janet, one of her friends, who
was sitting on Julie’s right. “It’s
obscene!”
“I know!”
Julie sighed. “My other
two skirts are in the wash, and my Dad neglected to tell me that until this
morning when I was looking for stuff to wear.”
“That’s funny,” said Lynn, who was
sitting on Julie’s other side. She
chuckled. “But I think if my Mum
did that, I’d just kill her.”
“I’m sure he didn’t do it
deliberately,” said Julie. “But
I am rather annoyed about it.”
“Maybe he did do it deliberately,” suggested Lynn with a grin.
“Maybe he just wanted to see you in a skirt that was too small for
you.”
“Oh Lynn, how could
you say something like that!” exclaimed Janet with a squeal of
disgust. “That’s just sick!”
“I think I’d wear a short skirt for him,” added Lynn.
“He’s rather sexy, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think!”
Janet was adamant on this point. “He’s
old enough to be my father!”
But Julie was thinking back to that
morning, remembering the smile on her father’s face as he watched her come
down the stairs in her little pleated skirt.
Surely not…
“Good grief, Julie,” said Lynn.
“Look at all the attention you’re getting!”
“Perverts, all of them,” muttered
Janet. “They’re practically
tripping over their tongues, and they’re in danger of leaving a trail of
saliva behind them wherever they go.”
“Well I don’t know about you,”
said Lynn, “but I’m going to have
a rummage through my chest of drawers tonight and see if I can dig out an old
skirt to wear tomorrow. Old, and
short.”
“Lynn!”
Janet was practically beside herself.
“Don’t you dare! As if
the boys need any more encouragement!”
Lynn laughed. “Relax, Janet, I’m only joking.”
The afternoon lessons passed relatively
uneventfully. The boys who sat
beside her in each lesson, she discovered, were now being selected by means of
name-cards drawn from a lunchbox, since fights had been erupting over who would
next have the privilege. Most of
the winners, however, were content just to watch her, with only one boy
attempting a grope in the last lesson of the day.
She let him get to her panties, but would not let him inside.
This, she decided, would be a general rule from now on, since she quite
enjoyed having her thighs caressed by boys.
Naturally if it were a boy she disliked, a different rule would apply.
The thought did, of course, cross her
mind that word might get around that she was ‘easy’. On reflection, she decided that it did not really matter that
much. This was her last term at the
school, and any reputation she obtained would last only until the end of term.
When the bell rang to signal the end of
the last lesson, she mounted her bicycle and rode out of the bike shed and
across the schoolyard to the gate. Wolf
whistles followed her, and she plucked up the courage to smile and wave to the
congregation of boys that had gathered (in suspiciously large numbers) to watch
her leave.
She rode home with the wind, her skirt
mercifully staying put for the most part, although she still heard a few car
horns being honked for her benefit. Finally,
with a great sigh of relief, she rode up her driveway, put her bicycle away in
the garage, then unlocked the front door and entered the house.
Her father was still at work, and would
be for another three hours. Julie
changed out of her school uniform and put on a t-shirt and sweatpants.
It had been a tiring day. Nerve-wracking
too. And embarrassing. But rather exciting too.
And all because she had worn a skirt that was really too short to be worn
to school.
“Well,” she said
to her skirt. “Into the drawer
you go. But you never know, I may
have need of you again sometime…”
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