Room 2D

A new offering from Basil Thank you to everyone who has commented on my previous stories. They are much appreciated and provide an impetus for me to write more of the same. If anyone has any particular requests do let me know. The catalyst for this story was the last few sentences of The Village Hall and the accompanying drawing. Annabel climbed up the familiar loft ladder while the vicar stood patiently to one side. As she neared the hatch, the ladder creaked and juddered under the weighty bulk of the vicar as he began his own ascent, challenging the strength of the rickety wooden steps. Annabel instinctively gripped the handrails tightly and stopped, feeling that the whole thing was going to come crashing down at any moment. The vicar appeared not to have noticed any possible danger, his attention being entirely taken up by Annabel’s knicker-clad bum just a few feet above his head, the angle of his view lending it a decepti

A tribute to early Blushes by Basil from the archives You know the place I’m referring to, don’t you?   It can be found nestled deep in the English countryside, well away from any prying eyes. The girls that attend this establishment all seem to have just turned sixteen , whereas the teachers are all male, in their mid to late fifties, balding and are somewhat portly. A typical example of the latter being outwardly avuncular in manner but with beady little eyes and a smug expression that would make any sixteen-year-old schoolgirl somewhat uneasy, even if she didn’t already know that the funny tenting out at the front of his tweed trousers meant that her education would soon be somewhat broader than mummy and daddy had bargained for. Lessons take place not so much for the girls to learn but for the teacher to ‘choose’. That is, to choose which of the little darlings will be reporting to his study at 4 o’clock, after the last lesson

Another Basil story from the archives. Inspired by the R.T. Mason classic  A Very Painful Lesson . Lisa Hemson had stormed out of the piano lesson. It wasn’t the first time Tebley had tried it on. He wasn’t a real teacher but the school used him for music tuition, so you had to go round to his house. There were rumours that some sixth form girls let him ‘do things’ to get better marks. He was always brushing against you, which you could put up with but then he had lifted her skirt up and cupped his hand on Lisa’s knickered bottom. She’d gone straight back to school and happened to run into Mrs Bairstow who was really nice, promising that everything would be alright… Mr Kendall, the headmaster of St Stephen’s looked at the book on his desk for the umpteenth time that morning. Specifically it was the ‘Incident Book’ detailing serious matters occurring in the school. Except that he made it his business to ensure that nothing that mig

From the archives — an original story by Basil It all started on Saturday morning. Her best friend, Alison came round, as usual. When Emma opened the door Alison was wearing a new pair of sunglasses. ‘Ta Daaa! Summer’s here and all cool babes will be at the pool!’ she chimed in her usual way. They went upstairs to change into the new bikinis, which they had recently bought for the summer, in readiness. When Emma looked in the mirror she realised that her new bikini was so tiny that dark wisps of pubic hair were poking out. ‘Oh my god!’ I can’t go like this.’ She exclaimed. ‘Oh, come on! You can’t chicken out. And Ke-vin Ty-ler will be there! I saw him this morning. I have the solution. Trim, Emma, trim!’ Alison announced and they both laughed. Emma was a bit embarrassed so she went into the bathroom and Alison stayed in the bedroom. After a few moments Alison was calling again: ‘Why don’t we go all the way. Smooth as silk.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Emma questioned. ‘Shave! It’s the

An original story from Basil with a nice illustration. More absent-minded fun in an imagined sequel to After the Match ‘Nice try, Henry, but your girls are still a little below our standard, don’t you think?’ said St Saviour’s headmaster, Charles Greenwood, smugly. ‘Indeed’ said Henry Bellish, Head of St Joseph’s, rather resignedly. Results were not normally the main interest to Henry in attending girls’ inter-school sports, but this time there had been a bit more riding on the match. Henry was taken into the pavilion to partake in the after match refreshments. To Charles’ consternation there was not a soul around. He cleared his throat loudly. A door opened and a dark-haired girl appeared, a look of surprise, then apprehension appeared on her face at seeing the two headmasters. She turned round, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with a tray of pastries and almost ran to them to try and make up for the fact that she had not been waiting with them on offer as they