After the lecture, I ensured that I secured the seat nearest her table at tea. Until recently, I would never have dared to do even that, let alone open my mouth, but I now found I possessed the bravura to introduce myself and opened up a conversation with her. This boldness is quite untypical for, at heart, I am a shy young man. My confidence with the fair sex must have been boosted by the encounter with Lizzie Dickerson for soon, Charlotte and I were whispering animatedly like two old friends. But, out of the comer of my eye, I noticed that Julian Clayton was looking at me with a dangerous gleam in his eye. Unfortunately, he too had designs on the lovely Charlotte and could not have been pleased with the fact that, as captain of the school, he was placed between Dr Muttley and Miss Atkinson. I made a mental note to keep well out of his way in the coming week! At the same time, I smiled as I thought of how wonderful it would feel to caress Charlotte's full, swelling bosoms whilst she commented on the social and economic iniquities which could be laid at the feet of unrestrained monopoly capitalism. 'Do you not find this a matter of great interest, Henry?' she added. I murmured in reply: 'Oh yes, absolutely, I do so agree with you.' Two delicious dimples appeared on her cheeks as she smiled sweetly and wagged a reproving finger at me. 'Are you quite sure that you do? It seemed that you were paying little attention to what I was saying and, at best, heard only one word out of three.' I blushed scarlet with embarrassment as I made the most profuse apologies and asked her to forgive me, adding that I would have to admit that my mind had temporarily strayed elsewhere. It was then, as the Cockneys say, that you could have knocked me down with a feather, for she leaned forward and quietly replied: 'Indeed it did, and in my considered opinion would have been discovered between my thighs if that bulge in your lap is any guide to the state of your mental condition!' I was dumbfounded by her frankness, but Charlotte was far from offended by the tented erection in my trousers, for she slipped her hand down to stroke it and whispered: 'We have an hour or so before I have to leave. Can we slip away somewhere private where we won't be observed?' My heart began to beat faster and, deliberately raising my voice so that her chaperones could hear and we could not afterwards be accused of skulking away without permission, I asked Charlotte if she would like to see some fine paintings by George Moore in Trippett's Hall. This is a very public part of the school which I hoped would give the impression that we would never be left alone and thus gain Dr Muttley's approval. 'Thank you, that would be most agreeable,' she replied. Miss Atkinson's eyebrows shot up, but Dr Muttley had also heard me and, though her face was still clouded by doubt, when he whispered a few words to the fellow head teacher, she nodded to us: 'Very well, Charlotte, you have my permission to leave the table, but please be brief or the charabanc will leave without you.' Once we had left the room, I guided Charlotte straight down the corridor to Trippett's Hall. 'We'll just take a quick look at the paintings in case you are questioned when we return,' I said. Charlotte gave my arm an admiring squeeze and, with a roguish twinkle in her enchantingly large, brown eyes, she giggled as she said: 'My word, Henry, you're quick on your toes or perhaps you have escorted girls around the school before now?' 'No, you will be the first female visitor to my den,' I answered, holding her hand as we walked briskly towards my study. I hoped against hope that George would not have returned from his cross-country run. I crossed my fingers as I pushed open the door – and, thanks be, there was no sign of George who was, in all probability, larking around in the Fifth Form common room or attending the regular Saturday meeting of the philately club of which he is a member. Charlotte followed me inside and, after I had shut the door smartly behind us, the clever girl turned the key in the lock, then threw her arms round my neck and kissed me on the lips.
In a trice, her wicked tongue filled my mouth, probing and rousing. I responded in kind and, clutching each other in a passionate embrace, we staggered over to the armchair where Charlotte sat on my lap and shrugged off her blouse. Whilst we continued to kiss, she pulled out her chemise from under her skirt which enabled her to pull it over her head so that I could delight in the wondrous sight of her firmly-rounded, bared breasts. I marvelled at the delicious feel of her hard, erect nipples against my palm whilst her hands now pulled open my fly buttons and she extracted my thick, stiff cock which she held tightly in her hand. 'Quick, Henry, I want you to fuck me before you spend,' she said with great urgency and after we had stripped off the rest of our clothes, Charlotte turned her back on me and bent over the arm of the chair with her jiggling buttocks only inches away from the tip of my straining, uncapped knob. She pulled her dimpled bum cheeks apart and I could see her wrinkled, little arse-hole as well as her fleshy pussey lips which she stretched open with her hand to reveal the flushed chink of her love channel.
Now, whilst I have read about 'doggie-style' fucking in The Forbidden Texts Of Cremorne which I purchased from a pedlar at London Bridge Station last summer and I saw Julian Clayton fuck Lizzie Dickerson this way, this was my first try at this method of fucking.
Of course, I didn't mention this to Charlotte as I leaned over her, and she whimpered as she felt the smooth helmet of my cock wedge itself inside the cleft of her gorgeous backside. She turned her head round to look at me with lust blazing in her eyes and whispered fiercely: 'Press on, Henry, but don't go up my bottom unless you have some cold cream handy.' Frankly, the idea of sticking my prick up her bum had never occurred to me, and so, as I propelled my prick forward, I gasped: 'Don't worry, Mr. Pego is heading straight for your cunney.' Charlotte wiggled her bottom from side to side until my shaft had entered the supple, glistening crack of her juicy cunt. 'Oh, I'm in, how delicious,' I cried as I pushed onwards, burying my cock to the very hilt so that my balls slapped against her bum cheeks. I pulled back a fraction before yet again plunging deep inside her welcoming honeypot. 'Oooh! Oooh! Oooh!' she groaned, so fiercely, that I anxiously enquired whether I had pushed in too hard. I was relieved to find out that this was far from being the case, and Charlotte wanted me to fuck her with even more verve until she could feel every last inch of my cock inside her tingling quimmey.
'Keep going, you're doing fine, fuck the arse off me, you randy rascal!' Charlotte panted. The curvy rondeurs of her backside responded to every shove, her body rocking in a lascivious rhythm, as she pulled my arms around her and told me to rub her titties whilst I fucked her. The beautiful girl shuddered as a series of spends exploded inside her cunney whilst I continued to pump relentlessly in and out of her delicious cunt. Her love funnel was wet and yet incredibly tight so that her cunney muscles clung to my cock as, again and again, I pumped my prick in and out of her sopping slit. I felt the inexorable surge of jism building up in my balls and I croaked out that I was about to spend. Then, Charlotte let out a high-pitched yelp of triumph and shuddered to her climax, just before I gushed my copious tribute of sticky, warm spunk into her cunt. I collapsed down on top of her as we completed this blissful fuck and then I withdrew my softening shaft which was gleaming with its coating of pussey juice. Heaving myself off her soft body, I walked across to the wash-basin and pulled a towel off the rail. Then, after quickly wiping my cock, I passed it to Charlotte who dried her thighs before throwing it back to me. 'I must be going. Miss Atkinson will be furious if I'm not in the entrance hall by six o'clock,' she sighed. As we began dressing ourselves, I asked shyly: 'Will you write to me, Charlotte? Perhaps I could bicycle over to Sparsit's on a weekend half-holiday.' 'Yes, dear boy, of course I will,' she replied as she kissed my cheek. 'And I shall slip out of school somehow. I promise faithfully that I will let you know as soon as I think of a way.' We finished dressing and I had just unlocked the door when I heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Without the courtesy of a knock, the door was flung open and the muscular figure of Julian Clayton stood framed in the doorway. He looked at me through narrowed eyes as he said through gritted teeth: 'Miss Harley, your driver has returned earlier than expected and Miss Atkinson wants you to leave as soon as possible. So will you please come with me and I will escort you to the entrance hall where she and the rest of your party are waiting for you.' 'Clayton, I'll be happy to walk CharI mean Miss Harley, down to the entrance hall,' I said, but he glared at me and said that he had been asked to take her back so he would not delegate the task. His voice changed in tone as he turned to Charlotte and he gave a little bow as he went on: 'In any case, it is hardly an onerous duty and is one that I am only too pleased to carry out.' 'Thank you, sir,' smiled Charlotte, as she returned his bow with a curtsy. However, sensing the brooding antagonism between us, the sweet girl gave me a merry little wink as she continued: 'Gentlemen, I have a splendid idea, you shall both escort me back to the entrance hall.'