Tuesday, Week 5

Tuesday and the girls appear in a conspiratorial mood. The ‘B’ Stream enters in a mass, clustered around each other, giving you tantalising, cheeky glances. When Brianna looks at you, she blushes. Probably remembering Sunday. Those memories are hard to suppress. None of the girls head to their desks. Instead, they cluster in the centre of the room, giggling, ostensibly trying to ignore you, while all the time glancing your way.

“Hurry up, sit down,” you shout.

You expect immediate compliance. Doesn’t happen. They’re even more sluggish than the ‘C’ Stream. You clap your hands to hurry them up. Has little effect. A few split off, but the core remains, although they part to reveal what their mass has been hiding.

At the centre is Anny Runnel, a tall, slim, small breasted, short-haired red head. She’s a big thing in the Upper Sixth. She’s head girl. She’s captain of the 1st XI. She’s strong. She’s confident. She’s a leader. Others follow her. And in return she has a reputation for defending students.

She doesn’t have a reputation for causing disruption, but one look at her and you can see that’s what she’s doing. She adorned her uniform with a sash, pink, and glittery and written on it is “18 Today.”

“Miss Runnel, I do believe that sash is not part of your school uniform. Please remove it.”

Anny’s blue eyes are sparkling with mischief. She bites her thin lips. She glances at the other girls around her, as if seeking support. She never struck you as one who needed support before.

“Sir, Dr Stricture said I could wear it. As it’s my birthday today. I’m 18.” Anny’s not convinced by her statement. Neither are you.

“She did, did she?”

This time she nods. Several of the girls giggle at their seats.

“Maybe we should go and ask her?” you suggest.

“We don’t want to waste lesson time, sir. It won’t interfere.”

“Yes, Dr Stricture is a long way away. Maybe we should just ask Mrs Oversight? I’m sure she’ll know if you’ve been given special dispensation to wear it. What do you think?”

Another glance for support. The girls are all looking away. Not at her. Not directly at you. Except Brianna. Brianna’s brown eyes are mischievously watching you. All you want to do is order Brianna into your office. But if you did that, you wouldn’t be able to resist that sweet, sweet pussy. Every time you look over at her, all you can think about is Sunday. What you did. What you enjoyed.

“I’ll take it off, sir.”

Does she really have to stretch as she removes the sash? She arches her back, and her small tits press against the white fabric of her blouse. It doesn’t help that Anny is taller than you, and her breasts are at perfect height to ogle. She then moves to her seat. She places the sash at the front of her desk, arranged so that the message 18 today is clearly visible. When she sits, so do the rest of the class.

The sash remains there for the entire lesson, its message tantalising. Does Anny want you to know she’s 18? Does she want you to know she’s now legally an adult? She’s a beautiful woman. Slim, fit, muscular but not overly so. Small breasts. You can’t help wondering about her endurance. You can’t help wondering how she’d feel wrapped around your cock. No. No. Concentrate.

Then you look next to her, at Brianna, a mischievous smile on her lips, adoration in her brown eyes. And every time you glance that way you can’t help but remember how she looked on Sunday as you pumped your load inside her. Her school uniform is even more alluring now you’re familiar with what’s underneath.

The lesson lasts forever, but not long enough. It’s a miracle you don’t lose control.