Path: not-for-mail
From: "Nikki@P.U."
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: The Girl's School 1 (Mf, cons, young teen)
Date: Fri, 17 Sep 2004 15:12:55 -0700
Organization: Posted via Supernews, http://www.supernews.com
Message-ID: <10kmoaoa5mgj775@corp.supernews.com>
Reply-To: <>
User-Agent: Mozilla/5.0 (Windows; U; Windows NT 5.1; en-US; rv:1.7.2) Gecko/20040804 Netscape/7.2 (ax)
X-Accept-Language: en-us, en
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="ISO-8859-1"; format="flowed"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
X-Complaints-To: abuse@supernews.com
Lines: 642
===================
The Girl's School 1 (Mf, cons, young teen)
By: Connard Wellingham
Chapter 1: The Interview (nosex)
After 5 years of teaching Adam Hazel was bored!
It was not a conclusion he came to instantly. It did not jump out at him
from a cupboard shouting, "You know your problem, old son? You're
bored." Nor
did it descend upon him in a blinding flash one day while in the bath -
for,
truth to tell, he did not possess a bath. Rather, it crept up on him
bit by
bit, slowly filling his consciousness until it became a foregone
conclusion -
something he had always known but had not really seemed important until now.
He was not bored with teaching, of that he was certain. He still derived
a tremendous sense of achievement when he succeeded in igniting that
spark of
enthusiasm in one of his pupils. It made the daily grind of teaching
and the
frustrations of dealing with bored teenagers, who would rather be somewhere
else, all worth the effort. Nor was he really bored with young people -
although he found their refusal to be enthusiastic about learning
frustrating.
Out of class, however, he enjoyed their company, their sometimes irrational
views on things, their black-and-white vision of the world. And, if he was
really to be honest with himself, he enjoyed the presence of nubile
young women
although perish the thought that things would ever go beyond a bit of
idle day-
dreaming.
But Adam Hazel was bored with teaching physics. He resented the fact that
he had had to specialise in one subject to get his qualification and was
therefore restricted to teaching just that and no more. He knew he
could offer
so much more. Sometimes he wished he'd been born in the 18th century
when all
lines of enquiry were open to all men and it was common for men to be
'experts'
in often disparate fields.
However, a physics teacher he was. Single, 26, unattached, not
unattractive, no particular vices, no great passions - and a physics
teacher.
So when a small advertisement for the Greenwood Academy, who wished to
recruit a
'scientific generalist', caught his eye, he was intrigued enough to
write for
more details.
Several days later an envelope in a restrained green colour with an
imposing coat of arms and the words 'Greenwood Academy' embossed on it
landed on
his doormat. Inside was a letter, signed by the Principal "A
Henderson", which
invited him to apply for the advertised post. He read that the school,
being
small, wanted to recruit a science teacher who might turn his or her
hand to
other subjects - by mutual agreement. Enclosed was a small map with
directions
for finding the school and a brochure. He opened it with interest.
'Greenwood Academy for Girls,' he read, 'was established in 1895 to cater
for the complete and rounded education for young ladies of distinction.' A
girls' school!! This was intriguing. The brochure went on to describe the
location - idyllic; the accommodation - palatial; the curriculum -
broad; and
the fees - staggering. After a few moments of wild male fantasy, his
natural
good sense prevailed and he read the brochure again with a cooler head.
This
was obviously an exclusive school. No doubt they could afford to
recruit the
very best of staff with exemplary careers and exceptional
qualifications. There
was no mention of salary, but, with the fees they were charging, it must be
reasonable, at least. He sighed. There was no way that a single,
26-year old
male could be regarded as suitable. Still, there was no harm in
applying, so
without further ado he completed the application form and posted it
first class
along with his CV.
To his surprise he received a prompt response inviting him for an
interview at his convenience and suggesting that he telephone to make
arrangements. After several conversations with the school secretary - a
pleasant-sounding, helpful woman - it was agreed that he would come down on
Saturday. The journey was several hundred miles and he did not trust
his rather
old and dilapidated car to survive the journey so it was also agreed
that he
would travel by train to the nearest town, some 15 miles from the
school, where
someone would meet him.
After a dull and uneventful journey he arrived at the station late on
Saturday morning. As he made his way out of the station, his eyes
caught sight
of three girls dressed in green blazers and short grey skirts, and a
woman in a
dark grey suit standing next to a car. As there seemed no other likely
candidates, he guessed they must be from the school and started towards
them.
As he approached, one of the girls noticed him and pointed and the woman
stepped
towards him.
"Are you Mr Hazel?" she enquired, smiling.
"Yes, I am," he replied.
"I'm Jacqueline Wishart from Greenwood. I'm your chauffeur." She held
out her hand.
"Thank you. It's good of you to go to so much trouble."
As he shook the proffered hand with its slender fingers tipped by carmine
nails, he saw that, despite the sober clothes, she was no older than he
and was
exceedingly attractive. A mane of dark hair framed a triangular face
with high
cheekbones. A face dominated by a pair of almost black, almond-shaped
flashing
eyes and sensual red lips. Her skin was swarthy and there was more than
a hint
of the Mediterranean in her genes. When she moved, he was aware that
the loose
jacket could well conceal a generous figure. Her skirt was short and
revealed
her shapely legs, trim ankles and neat feet clad in black stockings and
high-
heeled shoes. He unconsciously straightened his shoulders under her
amused and
challenging gaze.
"Not at all," she said. "I'm afraid it will be a bit of a squeeze,
though. As soon as they found out I was coming to town, these three minxes
insisted they just had to do some shopping." She indicated the girls who
glanced up coyly from lowered eyes. "This is Erica, Melanie and Zoë. 5th
formers." She sighed theatrically. "They're impossible." The girls
giggled.
"How do you do," he said. "I'm Adam Hazel."
He looked at the girls properly for the first time and did his best not to
gawp. The girls were stunning. Beneath the dark green school blazers
they were
wearing white, tailored shirts and the charcoal grey skirts moulded
themselves
to shapely hips. The uniforms covered but did not conceal the fact that,
although still technically schoolgirls, these were three ripe, nubile young
women. The skirts clung to their svelte hips and were short enough to
show off
shapely legs, of which they seemed to have an abundance, sheathed in
sheer black
nylon. Yet they were all completely and fascinatingly different; one
with dark
hair framing a heart-shaped face with green cat's eyes and a rosebud
mouth; one
with Titian ringlets, large, blue eyes and a generous mouth; and one
blonde with
an oval face, small nose, grey, hooded eyes and pouting lips that just
begged to
be kissed.
They returned his greeting politely.
Jacqueline unlocked the car - of the large estate variety - where the
girls insisted that Adam sit in the back. In no position to refuse, he
sat in
the middle sandwiched between the red-head and the brunette. He was
more than a
little disappointed as he had hoped to discreetly pump Jacqueline for
information during the drive to the school but a back-seat/front-seat
conversation in the presence of three girls would hardly be discreet.
He was
also slightly surprised that Jacqueline had let the girls get away with
insisting on the seating arrangements. They set off and were soon out
in the
countryside. The girls kept up a constant chatter and banter, in which
Jacqueline was included, which was full of references and allusions he
could not
understand, so he kept silent and tried to simply admire the passing
scenery.
This was difficult, partly because of the chat, but mostly because he
became acutely aware that he was in car with three; no, four, extremely
attractive young women. The car was hot and the scent of young girlhood
was
quite overpowering. He could feel the warmth of firm, young, female
thighs next
to his and it seemed that, no matter how he shifted my position, a slender,
black-nylon clad leg was pressed against his. For such a large car, there
seemed to be remarkably little room in the back seat!
After a while he realised that he was sitting with his knees pressed
uncomfortably together and a shapely female leg pressing against each
side. He
glanced down to see why this should be and realised with a shock that his
partners were sitting with their legs apart. Their short skirts had
ridden up
their thighs exposing not just the lacy tops of their stockings - not
tights as
he had assumed - but also a tantalising glimpse of thin white panties,
through
which he could make out the shadow of their pubic hair. He felt myself
redden
and go prickly hot as he hastily averted his eyes. His position became
even
more uncomfortable as his cock started to swell unbidden - squeezed as
it was
between his closed thighs.
He felt most uncomfortable and tried to recite the table of the elements
to distract himself. But the vision of stocking tops, sleek thighs and
white
panties remained. Indeed, the girls seemed to sense his discomfort and
rubbed
their legs against him deliberately and provocatively. In that instant he
regretted he had ever set out on this vain mission and wished he was
safely back
home with the football on the TV and a can of beer in hand. His
swelling cock
and was painfully squashed and he could no longer stand it. In
desperation he
pushed back at the intruding legs to take some of the pressure off his
aching
genitals.
The girls seemed to take this as some sort of signal and pressed against
him even more blatantly. Then he felt a hand on his right thigh gently
pressing
and caressing, followed shortly by another on his left. 'My God,' he
thought in
panic, 'here I am heading for an interview with the Principal of an
exclusive
school and I'm surrounded by nymphomaniacs.' The roving hands moved higher.
Suddenly something seemed to snap. If these girls were deliberately
trying to put him off and tease him, they were succeeding. He would
call their
bluff. He shifted my position carefully, pushing back against their
legs even
more and managing to free his arms. He placed a hand on a leg on either
side of
him and started to caress the stocking-clad skin. The girls did not
withdraw!
Instead they pushed back enthusiastically and worked their hands higher
until
they were resting just below his cock, which throbbed painfully in his
trousers.
He was now so aroused he was beyond caring. Deliberately, he worked his
hands
up their legs over the tops of their stockings to soft, bare flesh of their
inner thighs. The girls wriggled in their seats in excitement. He was
aware
that their breathing had quickened and become shallower.
He considered his next move. By spreading his fingers wide he was just
able to touch the white panties, each of which, he suddenly realised,
featured a
damp and slightly sticky patch, and gently tickled the soft, flesh
beneath.
There was a low moan from one side and a sharp hiss of in-drawn breath
from the
other. The girls slumped down further and their skirts rose even
higher. He
glanced down to see two ample vaginas proudly defined by the panties
which were
pulled tightly around them. The sight was so erotic, he nearly came
there and
then. The girls parted their legs even wider to try to give him better
access
and he was able to flick his little fingers back and forth over the
front of
their panties. He could feel the soft lips beneath part slightly and
the tight
material become even damper. As he did, the girls clutched
spasmodically at his
thighs though, fortunately, not at his cock. He was so caught up in the
sensations that he did not realise that the car had become completely quiet.
He was brought abruptly back to reality by Jacqueline saying, "Well, here
we are," in a bright voice.
He looked up in confusion to catch a glimpse of an imposing, ivy-clad
building before the car came to a halt. He hastily withdrew his hands
and the
girls sat upright, tugging down their skirts. He was perspiring freely
and had
a raging hard-on and was aware that his hands smelt strongly of teenage
female
juices. The reality of the situation burst upon him and he felt faint with
embarrassment.
Jacqueline and the girl in the front, climbed out energetically and his
back-seat companions followed more slowly. Adam remained where he was in a
panic. What was he to do with this obvious lump in his trousers?
"Are you coming, Mr Hazel?" said Jacqueline with amusement in her voice.
'Not quite,' thought Adam but said, "Er, yes. Certainly. I'm sorry. It
was quite hot in the car."
"It certainly was."
Reluctantly, he slid out of the car and stood up, surreptitiously trying
to ease his throbbing member into a more comfortable and less prominent
position. He caught Jacqueline's eye and she flashed him a knowing,
smile -
almost a leer. He felt himself blush.
"I'm sure you'd like to freshen up?" she said. "Long journeys can make
you feel very sticky."
"Uh .. Thank you," he stammered, not certain if the double meaning was
really meant or if it was just his guilty imagination.
With an air of unreality, he followed her into the building and down and
oak-panelled corridor.
She indicated a door. "There's a washroom in there. I'll go and tell the
Principal you've arrived."
He opened the door and entered a clean, tiled, well-appointed washroom.
After the usual ablutions, he stood, gazing unseeingly in the mirror and
tried
to get a grip on himself. What was going on? What was this place? How
could
he face an interview in a sexual daze? Ah, well, he was here now and
would have
to make the best of it. Abruptly, he shook himself, squared his
shoulders and
left.
Jacqueline was waiting in the corridor. "Better?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you. I feel much refreshed."
"This way then."
She led him down further panelled corridors, all very dignified and
discreet, knocked at a door and entered. Adam followed her.
"Mr Hazel," she announced.
From behind an imposing oak desk, a vision arose with outstretched hand.
"Mr Hazel," she said. "I'm Anne Henderson. I'm so glad you could make
it. How was your journey?"
For a moment he stood open-mouthed, then stepped forward to shake her
proffered hand.
"Thank you. It's good of you to see me. The trip was fine."
"Do sit down."
He sat, abruptly, on the indicated chair and watched as Anne Henderson
resumed hers. So: 'A Henderson, Principal' was female, and young - early
thirties he estimated, and she was stunning - more than that, she was
breath-
taking. Soft, blonde hair fell in waves well below her shoulders with a
fringe
which partly hid her finely-arched eyebrows. Her hair softly framed a fine-
boned face with large, blue eyes, straight, rather thin nose and a mouth
with
full, pink lips. Over a high-necked, white shirt, open at the collar,
she was
wearing a loose, dark blue jacket which could not disguise the swelling of
exceedingly full breasts beneath.
"Jacqueline, could you do me a favour and rustle up some coffee?"
Jacqueline left and she turned to me in business-like fashion.
"May I call you Adam? And I'm Anne. OK, Adam, now, firstly, tell me
about you current job."
... and the interview began.
~~~~~~~
"... there's one final set of questions I must ask you. How do you get on
with young girls?"
Adam started to say 'Fine' then stopped. That was not the question she
was really asking.
"I'm not sure exactly what you mean by that. But, as this is a girl's
school, I assume you want to know why I want to come and teach here
rather than
somewhere else?"
Anne smiled. "Very astute. That is precisely what I mean."
"Well, in all honesty, I don't particularly want to come here at all," he
began. Anne looked startled so he continued hastily. "I mean here
particularly, as opposed to somewhere else. As I've said, I want the
opportunity to expand my horizons and you seem to be offering that. I
don't
distinguish between girls and boys when I'm teaching. In fact it's been a
puzzle to me why girls seem to better at science than boys when they're
younger
but, somehow, so few of them carry on to exam level." He though for a
moment
and decided to take a risk.
"Apart from that, I like girls. I'm decidedly heterosexual and enjoy
looking at and being with attractive women."
Anne smiled at him encouragingly. "Have you ever had a relationship with
one of your pupils?"
Adam was shocked. "Never."
"Ever been tempted?"
He was, again, about to give a stock answer but then decided to be honest.
"I admit there have been one or two that, given other circumstances, I
would not have turned down," he grinned. "But I value my job more than my
libido."
Anne nodded. "And have you ever had a relationship with a fellow member
of staff?"
Adam flushed slightly. "Er, yes, once," he admitted.
"Will you tell me what happened? It is important."
"Well it was just after I started teaching. The lady in question had just
split up with her husband and needed a shoulder to cry on. One night we
got a
bit drunk and ended up in bed. That sort of soured the relationship and
she
stopped using me as a human handkerchief. We continued to see each
other for a
while. But nothing came of it and, finally, she moved away. More to
get away
from her husband, I think."
"And that was the only occasion?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for being so frank. Are you involved with anyone just now?"
"No, I'm not. And, if you'll forgive me for saying so, I think your
questions are getting a little bit on personal side."
"I'm afraid I have to ask them. As this is an all-girls school, and a
boarding school, and caters for the, shall we say, 'well heeled' as
well, I must
be sure that all members of staff have a sound and healthy attitude.
This can
be quite a hot-house environment and emotions can get quite, er, heated at
times. You understand that if I were to offer you the post, you would
be the
only young male in the vicinity - and, as you are not an unattractive
man, I
must be particularly careful. We've had male teachers here before, of
course,
but they have tended to be, shall we say, 'maturer'." She smiled.
Adam flushed. "Of course. I understand."
Anne gave him another encouraging smile and leaned forward confidentially,
her breasts straining the material of her shirt. "Thank you. Now,
before we go
any further, I feel I must say that you do impress me. You are, so far,
the
best candidate I've interviewed."
Adam was taken aback. "Why, thank you," he stammered. "To be honest, I
didn't really think I stood a chance. What with my age and general lack of
experience."
"I am not looking for a pedagogue. All-round manner and attitude are more
important than how many years you have been teaching. Now, I know it's not
usual to indicate how an interviewee is doing, but I do so so that you will
understand that I do not ask the next questions lightly."
"OK," he said, bracing himself for the next questions.
"What is your attitude to corporal punishment?"
"I've never found the need for it."
"But, suppose it was the policy of the school."
"Is it?"
"For the moment we are speaking hypothetically." She leaned forward
slightly in anticipation of his answer. He was uncomfortably aware of
these
fabulous, hypnotic blue eyes gazing at him eagerly and the shifting of her
breasts beneath the silk blouse.
"Well," he said carefully. "It would depend."
"On what?"
He took a deep breath. "On the circumstances and the nature of the
punishment. If, for example, it was policy to greet a minor breach of
discipline, say talking in class, with a caning: or if the punishment was
designed to cause severe harm to the child, then I would have to decline
the
post."
"But if not? If there was the usual stages of warnings, punishment
exercises, detentions, and so on, and then, as a final resort, mild
corporal
punishment for the most serious misdemeanours - chastisement, and this was
designed to enforce rules not abuse the girl? What would your attitude
be to
that?" Her voice was eager, urgent.
He had a sudden vision of the three minxes in the car, bent over with
their skirts raised, their bottoms in the air - and suppressed it
hurriedly.
Something in her manner made him realise that she was not speaking
hypothetically at all: that the school had a policy of corporal
punishment and
the success of this interview hung on his answer.
"Well, er... um... Then I suppose I would have to carry out school
policy. I've never seen the need for it so it's really not something
I've given
much thought to." A sudden picture of some of the more troublesome
pupils he
had taught flashed through his mind. "Although, to be quite frank,
there's been
one or two in the past I've felt would have benefited form a sound
spanking."
Anne seemed to breathe a slight sigh of relief and sat back in her chair.
"I take it that it is your policy?" he ventured.
"Yes. You see, in a state school, you have the ultimate sanction of
exclusion but here ..., " she shrugged, " ... the situation is more,
shall we
say, delicate."
Her tone and look suggested that he would be wise not to push the matter.
He smiled, reassuringly. "All I can say is that I would be guided by
you and
follow school policy."
"Good," she smiled and leaned forward again. And he was again supremely
aware of her big blue eyes and heavy, sensual breasts.
"What is your attitude to lesbianism?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"What are you feelings about lesbianism?" she asked a trifle impatiently.
"Again, I'm afraid I don't have one. As far as I'm concerned, people's
sexual preferences are their own affair. Like many men, I find the
image of two
beautiful women making love quite erotic. But I don't go prying into
personal
relationships and I certainly wouldn't condemn anyone for being a
lesbian. I
may even know some, for all I know."
"Good." She relaxed back in her seat. "Thank you again, Adam, for being
so frank."
"Does much of it go on here?"
"What?"
"Lesbian relationships."
She flushed slightly and said quickly, "Some, inevitably. Adolescent
girls are emotionally vulnerable, you know." He had the feeling she was
not
being entirely open.
"Now," she said, suddenly business-like again. "If we were to offer you
the post, when would you be able to start?"
... and they were back on familiar territory.
~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty minutes later he was stepping back into the car, the interview
over. As Jacqueline Wishart guided the car out of the grounds, the
tension of
the last few hours suddenly left him and he slumped back in his seat
with a deep
sigh.
"Tough, huh?" said Jacqueline, sympathetically.
"You could say that. I feel like the proverbial wet dishrag."
"Anne Henderson can be a tough lady."
"Yes."
He was exhausted and, although he now had the opportunity to pump
Jacqueline for information, could not find the effort to try. The
journey back
to the station was completed in silence.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Well?" asked Anne Henderson to Jacqueline and the three girls who had
gathered in her office. "Is he the one?"
"Oh, yes," Melanie breathed. "He's dishy."
"And he's big," added Zoë.
"I don't think being big or dishy necessarily qualifies him for the job,"
said Anne a trifle primly.
"Sorry, Miss Henderson."
"I think he is," Erika said. "He responded well in the car."
"Jacqueline?"
"It's difficult to tell from just one encounter," Jacqueline said slowly.
"But I think I agree with Erika."
"Good," said Anne with satisfaction. "I think so, too, but I wanted to
get your impressions."
END of Chapter 1