The Girls of St Catherine's Bk. 03 Ch. 01

"I told you, I'm not having you placing your grubby 'ands all over my nice new van. I only got it last week. So we're going to shower here before we go. You too, Michael. If you want a lift back to Eastbrook, that is."

"Are you sure this is okay?" Gary said, as they got some clean clothes from the van and headed towards the gym.

"I told you: the 'eadmaster said it was fine as long as we use the visitor's changing room and lock the doors. We don't want any nubile schoolgirls strolling in on us when we're in the all-together, eh?" he said, with a broad grin.

"Perish the thought," Gary said, and laughed.

---

Florence ran her hands through her rust-coloured tresses and pushed her sunglasses up over her nose as she strolled by the river. At the end of a difficult day in the classroom, she'd got into the habit of taking a walk along the river before heading back to the canteen for dinner; it was so beautiful down here on a summer's evening and it seemed to help clear her mind. She turned her face towards the evening sun, enjoying the last of the day's warmth on her skin.

She was heading back up the lawn past the gym when she was startled by the sound of raucous laughter coming from the open windows. That was odd; all of the girls would be queuing for dinner in the canteen so who was using the changing rooms at this hour? As she got closer, she realised it sounded like those roofers. What were they doing in there?

She should really just mind her own business but she was tempted to have a look and paused beneath the window. It was just above head height, but she could probably just see over the ledge if she stretched. Perhaps, she reasoned, she should just have a quick look to make sure they weren't burglars.

Grasping the ledge with her fingertips, she stood on tiptoes, her sunglasses dangling from her fingers as she peeked through the half-open window. Through the humid, steamy air, she could see the three men towelling themselves. The oldest of the three was nearest; the one called Alan who shouted at her today and seemed to be in charge. He was facing away from her, and she watched as he dried himself, rubbing the large white towel over his hairy chest, his stocky arms, his shaved head, his rounded buttocks. As he turned sideways, her eyes were drawn to a modestly sized penis, nestling in a mass of dark, curly pubic hair and framed by fleshy thighs. He was a bear of a man, with a barrel-chest and an impressive array of tattoos, including the word "Gunners" across his shoulders. She wondered what it meant; perhaps he'd been in the army?

"Tell you what, you're a lucky boy, working here, Michael," he said, "all these hot young women running around in those sexy little school uniforms, eh?"

"I guess there are worse places to work," Michael said, grinning shyly as he towelled off his legs. He was younger and leaner than the other two, the muscles of his arms and legs clearly defined under his smooth, mostly hairless skin. She was beginning to see why the girls in her class were so distracted! She watched as he dried his arms, then his thick tangle of dark hair. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't resist letting her eyes drift down over his broad chest, his flat stomach, to his lightly-haired thighs where a good-sized cock protruded from a sparse triangle of tawny hair.

"Come on Michael, spill the beans. I bet you're getting plenty, eh? All these lonely girls, stuck out here in the sticks, missing their boyfriends, needing someone to keep them warm at night, eh?"

"Well I've got no complaints," he said, his cheeks flushing red.

"I bet you haven't," laughed Gary. "I tell you what, the teachers aren't bad either. If the teachers at my old school looked half as sexy as some of the ones here, I might have stayed on when I was sixteen. Did you see that redhead and her blonde friend this morning?"

"They're new here," Michael said helpfully. "Miss Macgregor and Miss Ledbury, I think they teach chemistry and physical education."

"I tell you what, I wouldn't mind doing a bit of physical education with them, I bet I could teach them a thing or two!" Alan said, still towelling his back.

Gary laughed loudly. He was the tallest of the three, with a shaggy mane of bleached blonde hair. He had a lovely body, his arms and legs lean and muscular from a summer spent carrying tiles up and down ladders. His skin was bronzed, tanned all over apart from a thick band of pale white around his thighs. His buttocks looked firm and taut. She found herself stretching her neck, standing on the very tip of her toes as she watched him towelling his long limbs, slowly turning towards her. She caught her breath as he turned her way, revealing an impressively long cock, swinging between his legs like a pendulum as he vigorously towelled his spiky hair.

"Jesus, he's hung like a horse," she murmured, unable to take her eyes of his magnificent dick. She put her hand over her mouth; had she just said that out loud?

"Did you hear something, Al?" he said.

"I didn't say anything," the older man said. "I think it came from outside."

They all looked up, but Florence was already gone, a rosy glow spreading across her cheeks and her heart thumping as she scurried back up the gravel path towards the sanctuary of the main building.

---

It was another hot, humid night. There had been something of a heat wave over the last few days, and Florence was finding it difficult to get a good night's sleep. She never slept naked, it just didn't feel proper, so she'd slipped into her lightest nightwear, a black satin chemise and a matching pair of tiny knickers but she was still too hot. Even with the stiff, old windows as far open as she could get them and the curtains wide apart, there was no breeze and it just felt airless. It was too quiet as well. She'd spent the previous year in London, at a teacher training college, and before that, three years getting her degree at Edinburgh University. It was never quiet in those places. Even in the early hours, there was always some kind of noise: the traffic, distant sirens, drunken students staggering back to their rooms, the low rumble of the underground. Here though, there was virtually no sound at this time of night. Just the occasional strangled, lonesome bark of a fox or the ghostly hooting of a barn owl piercing the stillness.

She tossed and turned restlessly, her duvet twisted around her ankles, her mind going over the experiences of her first few days here. She could feel her breasts brushing against the satin, the material caressing her skin like a lover's fingers, its folds glistening wetly where it caught the moonlight. She couldn't resist teasing herself a little, pulling at the skimpy material, drawing it back and forth across her tightening nipples, feeling them tingle as they dimpled the fabric.

The incident with Derek had left her deeply unsatisfied, on more than one level. Sometimes, she wished he was more assertive, more of a man. Although she'd been reluctant, part of her couldn't help wishing he'd been a bit more masculine, a bit stronger. Instead a pleading for a quick hand job, perhaps he could have thrown her onto the bed and ravished her, his strong hands tugging at her clothes, eager to see her naked, his lips pressed against hers, their bodies passionately entwined.

She bet those roofers wouldn't have settled for a quick wank. It had been quite naughty of her to spy on them like that. What had come over her? She wouldn't normally do that sort of thing. Maybe it was this school. Ever since she'd arrived she'd been aware of the slightly heightened atmosphere, a distinct sexual tension in the air. Of course, it all seemed very decent on the surface but she couldn't help feeling that there was a hidden world here, just below that razor-thin veneer of respectability.

She seemed to have trouble sleeping since she got here too. Of course, there was this damned heat-wave making it so uncomfortably hot, but there was something else too. Was it a coincidence that she kept awaking in the middle of the night with lewd, pornographic images crowding her mind, a fine sheet of perspiration coating her body, a deep yearning ache in the pit of her belly?

Tonight, her mind kept returning to the same question: what would have happened if those workmen had caught her? What would they have done? She imagined the three big, strong men, wearing only their towels, dragging her into the changing room, demanding to know why she'd been spying on them.

She slipped her fingers beneath the thin spaghetti straps, easing them over her smooth shoulders, sighing as she slowly drew the smooth material down over her exquisitely sensitive nipples, until her boobs were glowing pale and naked in the moonlight. She shivered as she trailed her fingers over her stomach, her skin tingling in anticipation as she imagined how that it would feel to have them manhandle her, their strong hands clamped around her slender wrists as she tried to twist away. Burly, tattooed arms circling her waist, lifting her off her feet, her low black heels scrabbling for purchase against the tiled floor. Of course, she'd try to escape but what could she do up against such fit young men?

She ran her hands up over her smooth, pale skin, cupping her boobs. Florence thought her breasts might be her best feature. She could certainly turn a few heads when she wore a low-cut top! Not that she did that very often. Certainly not when she was out with Derek, as he was quite possessive sometimes and surprisingly prudish about her clothes.

She trailed her fingertips over the pale, milky skin. They were pleasingly plump and firm, almost conical in shape and tipped with stubby, dark red nipples that Derek said reminded him of tiny Scottish raspberries.

She imagined rough male hands groping her, crudely fondling her through her blouse, sliding beneath her conservative knee-length, pin-striped grey skirt, squeezing her buttocks as she protested.

She could almost hear them, laughing and making crude comments about her helpless body as they began to tug playfully at her clothes. Of course, she'd struggle but they'd easily restrain her, perhaps twisting an arm behind her back as they pulled roughly at her blouse and skirt.

Florence flicked a soft, teasing fingertip across a nipple, feeling it stiffen and come to life as she pictured Gary struggling with the tiny buttons of her blouse, eventually losing patience and cursing as he ripped the white cotton asunder, buttons skittering across the tiled floor as her cotton-clad breasts spilled out.

"Nice tits," he'd grunt crudely, enjoying the sight of her ample breasts jiggling under her flimsy white bra as she tried vainly to free herself.

Florence licked a finger, then slid it over the slope of her boob, teasing herself by circling one of her throbbing nipples. It ached for attention and a little sigh of pleasure escaped her plump lips as she squeezed it between thumb and forefinger, feeling it become even stiffer. The more she stimulated it, the more it demanded her attention.

"No, please," she'd be squealing, as she felt her sensible skirt being yanked over her hips, feeling it slip down over her legs and pool around her ankles.

In the struggle, their towels would have fallen off and she'd be shocked to see them completely naked, their semi-erect cocks swinging between their legs as they excitedly pulled at her underwear. Their cocks becoming harder, jutting out rudely, as her clothes fell away. She'd still be struggling as they pulled her to the floor, forcing her to lie on the little pile of their damp, discarded towels, strong hands clutching her wrists and ankles.

Florence moaned as she slid a hand between her hot, sticky thighs, massaging her mound, feeling her wetness seep through the thin satin of her black panties. There'd be no escape now she was on the floor, she'd be at their mercy. They'd be all over her, their hands caressing her naked skin, lips kissing her stomach and neck, a tongue licking along the inside of her thighs. Exploring her naked skin as she twisted and writhed helplessly.

She imagined them panting in the hot, humid atmosphere, her flimsy, lacy bra no defence against their strong, rough workmen's fingers, her naked boobs spilling out. She could almost head the victorious, lusty comments at the sight of her boobs, and feel the rough hands groping them, squeezing the plump flesh and cruelly plucking at her nipples. She'd still be struggling of course, still pleading for them to let her go but there'd be no stopping them now. They'd be so aroused by her nakedness, their cocks hard and angry-looking now, bobbing between their thighs, ready for action as they ravished her.

She stroked herself between her thighs, feeling her knickers dampen, imagining it was Gary licking her down there, his powerful hands forcing her thighs wide apart as he licked her through the clinging satin. Despite herself, she'd be unable to suppress a low moan of passion as he eased the thin gusset to one side, his eager tongue lapping at her naked, engorged lips.

"No, " she'd gasp, briefly lifting her head to watch him tug at her panties, the skimpy material ripping and shredding like tissue paper between his strong fingers, exposing her embarrassingly wet centre.

She lifted her hips and wriggled her panties off now, impatiently kicking them off her ankles. She closed her eyes, stroking her silky slit, imagining her fingers were his tongue playfully licking her. Back and forth, back and forth, lapping hungrily at the juices that spilled so freely from within her, his fingers spreading her puffy lips, the very tip of his tongue exploring her pink inner lips till she thought she'd pass out from the intense sensations.

Florence was writhing happily now, her head twisted to one side, eyes squeezed shut as she pleasured herself, her pussy lips glistening wetly in the moonlight. She used the pads of her fingers to massage herself in slow circles, occasionally dipping a finger inside her moist cleft and spreading her honey along her slit, using the very tip of her finger to stimulate her throbbing, ultra-sensitive clit.

How would they have her? Perhaps they'd pin her to the floor, vice-like hands pulling her ankles wide apart, her hands stretched above her head, as virile, young David fucked her, his firm buttocks bobbing between her knees, driving his lovely long cock deep inside her as the two older men urged him on, stroking themselves as they watched, eagerly waiting their turn.

She was gasping for breath now, sucking in great gulps of the warm, sultry air as she used a finger to probe the wet, clasping lips of her pussy whilst another traced intricate patterns around her clit. Her knees were wide apart, her bottom lifting off of the bed, her ankles scrabbling for purchase, the sheets clinging to her damp buttocks.

Or perhaps Gary would want to have her doggy style. There was something primal and animal-like about being fucked like that. Forcing her over one of the wooden benches, her bottom stuck in the air, strong hands pulling her knees wide apart as she mewed feebly.

"No please," she'd pant as she felt uncompromising hands on her neck and shoulders forcing her down.

Gary would be kneeling behind her, his hand coaxing his mighty prick to full hardness. She felt herself grow even hotter as she imagined him pressing the bulbous end of his magnificent cock against her entrance and pausing briefly, before easing himself smoothly inside her, his thick, long dong filling her completely, forcing the breath from her lungs, a long wail of pure pleasure echoing off the tiled walls.

Her fingers were flying over her clit as she imagined him moving deep inside her, all the way in till his pendulous balls slapped against her bottom, then all the way out till just the tip rested inside her and her pussy ached with emptiness, then plunging back in forcing another surprised but contented squeal from her lips.

Perhaps, Michael and Alan would be in front of her, taking turns, forcing her to suck on their swollen dicks as Gary fucked her. Relentlessly fucking her harder and harder as her body betrayed her, loving the feeling as she moved in time.

Before long, their voices would be a chorus of pleasure, Alan encouraging her to suck him harder and Michael feverishly stroking himself as they neared their own happy endings. Gary would be plunging deep into her, loving the feel of her tight velvety wetness clasping his hardness.

"Oh God," Florence gasped, frigging herself with two soaking fingers as she strummed a wet fingertip over her clit, her body arching up off the bed, as she felt her climax approach. In her mind, she could hear the Alan and Michael's ecstatic cries as they came simultaneously, their hot spunk splashing over her face. Gary's muscular buttocks would be pumping hard now, plunging his hardness deep inside her, over and over, moving faster and faster until he too climaxed, his hot spunk flooding her pussy.

The thought of him coming inside her triggered her own climax and suddenly she was there, her glistening body arching off of the bed as she felt the delicious wave of pure ecstacy sweep over her, consuming her for what seemed like several long breathless minutes.

When it was finally over, Florence lay in the darkness, slowly regaining her breath, the perspiration cooling on her salty skin as the night's silence closed in around her and she finally drifted off into a deep, contented sleep.