David Shaw - Naughty Schooling

Will unhooked her bra and threw it away. Jodi stood her aside his legs before hauling both of her tits down to his mouth, giving them a good kneading and some playful bites. Linda's eyes seemed to be rolling around in their sockets, pretending to be so distressed but making sure we were all watching her being treated like that. I reckoned it was exactly what she'd been waiting forever since she'd hung around in the corridor.

"I'll make her tits shake more than that when she's riding on my cock,"

Jacko promised loudly, with Linda quivering in response as though electric shocks were going up and down her spine.

"Drop them for us, you little prick teaser," Jacko demanded, and Jodi nodded his head in agreement.

With practically no hesitation at all Linda slipped her hands into the sides of her briefs and pushed them down as far as she could, which wasn't far since she was standing straddle legged, but far enough for us to see everything that mattered. She had quite a nest of light brown hair down below, a physical detail, which was quickly covered by Jodi's right palm as he fingered her. The rest of backed up his good work by grabbing whatever we could. Linda threw her head back, saying "Shit! Shit! Shit!" until Will put his lips on hers and gave her a taste of his tongue.

"I think we've got a hot one here," Jacko said.

It was a pretty fair statement because Linda's hands were darting around like butterflies, stroking Jodi's arm that was fingering her, running over

Will's head as he tongued her. It was just then that I heard a female gasp of outrage and it certainly couldn't have come from Linda. We spun around and gaped at the teacher who was standing next to the mats, watching everything that was going on with eyes bulging out like a dead cod's on a fishmonger's slab.

Mrs Dunkley her name was, an English teacher, but not a very good one. I mean, she knew all about her subject but she'd been away from teaching for a long time and the schools she been at before must have been much better behaved ones than ours, because she was piss weak at enforcing discipline.

She'd only been at our educational slum for a month or so but we'd really made things difficult for her in every class she'd taken with us. Ma

Dunkley was what Jodi called her and, naturally, he'd caused her more trouble than the rest of us put together.

Yet there was one thing about her, which did have all our interest. Well, two things in fact. She wasn't the flashy type, being middle aged and pretty quiet, but she wore tight sweaters all the time and underneath those sweaters were the biggest set of tits we'd ever seen. No arguments about them being padding either – no padding ever made could have swayed around as enticingly as those two mounds did. Apart from that she was dark haired and dark skinned, with just a wisp of hair on her upper lip.

Italian or Greek blood in the family perhaps, with a good full arse that twitched along underneath her pleated skirts almost as nicely as her bazoons bounced on ahead.

Another thing we'd all noticed about her was that in anything except high summer she always wore boots, which reached up, almost to her knees. There had been a lot of speculation about those boots and whether maybe she was sexier than she let on, wedding ring or no wedding ring.

So, there we were and there she was, and the shit had fallen into the muck spreader all right. As soon as she'd reported this little lot we'd all be on our way to a police court and probably Borstal institutions. And that's what might have happened if Jodi hadn't been there. Because Jodi was always fast, always dangerous and a born leader. Whilst the rest of us were still too stunned to react he was moving, pushing Linda away so hard she would have fallen if we hadn't been clustered so closely around her.

Then I almost went over myself as he knocked me out of the way, heading towards the opened door.

For a second, just for a second, I wondered if he was running away. But even before the thought was formed I saw him slam the door closed and turn the key in the lock, the thing we should have thought to have done first before we got started on Linda. Yet what he did next had me totally confused because he disappeared out of sight behind a storage rack, taking the door key with him.

Which left the rest of us hanging around like non-speaking extras in a play after the main character has disappeared down a stage trapdoor. Linda was the only one who could think of anything positive to do, by pulling up her knickers.

Under any other circumstances I would have been laughing at the expression on her face. Linda Beresford did not look like a girl duly grateful for being saved from a terrible fate at the hands – and dicks – of a bunch of hooligan boys: she looked more like a gymkhana rider whose horse had gone sprawling at the first fence; lots of exertion, lots of build up, but no jumps. Though Ma Dunkley distracted my attention quickly enough with an angry shout.

"Malenger, come back here!"

Well, he did, back out from behind that storage rack as quickly as he'd gone behind it. And in his hand was a javelin. Which, just in case English is your second language, is a metal spear with rather a sharp point at one end. People with nothing better to do go out on an athletics field to see how far they can throw them. Another fun recreational thing you can also do with the sharp end of a javelin is to stick it into a big tit. If you want to attract the attention of the owner of the aforementioned big tit,

I can assure you that it's an effective way of doing so.

"Back! Back against the wall, you fat bitch!"

I was thinking to myself, "This is crazy, we can't do this to a teacher", but it was happening anyway, as things always seemed to do when Jodi wanted them to. Ma Dunkley took two steps backwards under the pressure of the javelin's tip, and then tried to stand her ground.

"Malenger, you must be mad! Put that down at once."

Well, and so he did. He leaned forward, dropped the javelin's point and pushed it forward straight between her knee high boots.

"Come on you useless bastards, give her a lift," he called out to us.

Ma Dunkley didn't understand what he meant but we did, because another thing you can do with a javelin for fun and profit is to use it to persuade a girl to see things your way. Remember I mentioned a certain

Janet Saunders as an excellent example of an enthusiastic female submission? Well, it had been a ride around the storeroom on a javelin, which had quickly and easily brought her to that way of thinking. But to do it to a teacher…

"Come on!" Jodi urged, and so we did. What the hell, it had to be worth whatever trouble it eventually got us into. So I grabbed the point behind her and Micky took hold of it as well, while Jacko helped Jodi in front.

That was all there was room for, four pairs of hands, but it was plenty.

We lifted the javelin nice and level, straight up between Ma Dunkley's legs, hoisting her pleated skirt in big folds in front and behind her.

Then we got her weight on top of the javelin and raised it up higher yet, until she was on the toes of her boots. She shrieked like a factory whistle spitting out steam, leaning forward over her rucked up skirt to grab the javelin through the folds, holding on next to Jacko's and Jodi's hands as she desperately tried to lift herself above the metal shaft. I could understand why – it must have been a rough experience to have your cunt split apart on something like that.

"Walk her!"

Well, walking her isn't quite what happens. The point is that if you lift the rider high enough she can't walk, and she can't rest her weight on the ground, it's all pressing down on those soft sensitive areas between the inner thighs and that round strip of aluminium. The javelin bowed underneath Ma Dunkley's weight but it didn't stop us from lifting her right off the floor and taking several shuffling steps as she swayed from side to side, screaming out in fear and pain as she found out she was balanced on the next worst thing to a knife edge.