One Girl Remains

One girl remains. Ellie. You had tried to ignore the deepening flush of her face as the lesson progressed. Now you can’t. You move to her desk. “Is everything ok?” Clearly not, she’s close to tears. “What’s wrong?” You squat to be closer to her and notice there’s a distinct pungent odour.

She coming to the realisation, she’s got to tell you something. Carefully she adjusts her seating to reveal a small puddle on her wooden chair.

“If you needed to go to the toilet, you should have said. I’d have let you go.” She shakes her head. “Well you’d better go to the toilet now. Don’t worry I’ll clear up.” She shakes her head again, and carefully lifts the hem of her skirt, to reveal soaking wet white cotton panties through which you can see the imprint of her sex.

Yes, of course, she can’t carry on the day with sodden knickers. Hang about there’s several packs of clean ones in your office. Packs you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet.

“Alright. Don’t ask why but there are some clean panties in my office. I’ll get you a pair and then you can go to the girls’ toilets and change.” You smile at her which causes her to shiver.

“They’ll be there.” Her voice is a croak of embarrassment, fear and something much deeper and primal. You don’t need any more information. You know who she means. Her bullies. It doesn’t surprise you they hang around the toilets. And you can imagine it. Her walking in with sodden knickers, and her bullies finding out. She’s already the most picked on girl in school. Imagine what would happen next.

You know you shouldn’t. But you feel you should. She’s so innocent, so ****. Her big brown eyes plead with you. Her pretty face is quivering with fear. “Alright. There’s a toilet in my office. I shouldn’t, but I’ll let you use that. Come on. I’ll clean up here.”

You stand and gesture she should follow. For a moment she dithers before standing, swaying as she does so. You reach up to help her and she shivers some more. She hot to the touch. You guide her to your office and point her in the direction of the washroom. Then you dig in the cupboards to find the packs of panties your predecessor had left. You put them on your desk and shout to Ellie they are then. Then you take some of the toilet paper from its roll and return to the classroom.

You start mopping at the small puddle on the chair. It’s not a big puddle; she clearly wasn’t that ****. Except… It doesn’t smell of urine. The aroma’s familiar. Sex. This is only partly urine. No, this is more. She’s been fidgeting all class. She kept glancing away from you. Her flushed face. Her position, closest to your office, closest to the statuette. She’s aroused. She’s extremely aroused. And you’ve left her in a room even closer to it. What do you do?

First you finish mopping up the puddle of Ellie’s excitement Ellie. Then you return to your office.

Ellie is standing there, still close to tears, her sodden knickers in her hand, her skirt hitched up to reveal her still leaking pussy. Surprisingly she’s shaven down there. You wouldn’t have thought that. You can see a trickle of her juices running down her thighs. She’s also undone some of the buttons of her blouse, revealing her white bra, and her right hand is cupping her left breast as you enter. She looks up at you, panic leaking out.

“What are you doing?”

“My nipples. They’re really hard. What’s happening?”

What do you say? What do you do?

Here’s this beautiful girl, pussy exposed, breasts almost out, the signs of her arousal visible in the dampness of her sex, in the hardness of her nipples, in the desperation in her eyes.

What you do know, is that if someone walked in now, you’re sacked. No explanation good enough. Not helped by the growing response of your cock to the sight of this beautiful semi-naked woman. You turn round and with trembling hands close and lock the door. Then you carefully approach her. Your mind can’t work it out. Your cock is pulling you towards her.

“Ellie, I need you to…”

You want to say more, but your mind is fumbling with words. While you approached, she’s unbuttoned the last of her blouse, revealing her smooth stomach, revealing her white bra, the bullets that are her nipples clear against its fabric.

“I need you, sir.”

No, that’s not what you want to hear. It’s exactly what you want to hear.

“The last few days, all I can think about is you. I want… I want… That.”

Her right hand leaves her breasts and reaches out to cup your cock, straining in its confines, its outline clearly visible. The moment she touches it, it responds.

You can’t think straight. There’s a little voice screaming “No” but it’s being drowned out by the rising cacophony of instinct shouting “Do it.”

What should you do? Fight instinct or surrender to it.

What should you do?