Room 2D

From Blushes 16, a sequel to the story  Parental Discipline . Bill Jackson had done something he didn’t normally do. He had taken a drink in the afternoon. Quite a large one, too. He didn’t approve, but he’d done it. Herbert Porter, Head of the Comprehensive, was due at five o’clock… and he would be bringing Bill’s elder daughter, Rita, with him. In view of what he had already been told — and what he anticipated — Bill Jackson needed a bit of immoral support. In the way of half a tumblerful of scotch. How could Rita have behaved so? She seemed such a nice innocent girl. Friendly, yes, but not… not sexy. Bill Jackson’s mind reeled away from the thought of those secret meetings in the changing room when it seemed… so unbelievably… that intercourse had taken place. He couldn’t quite imagine his Rita doing anything like that. He still thought of her as a kid. It was indecent. Must have been the boys’ fault. Bill Jackson felt s...

From Blushes 14 ‘Pam — go up to your room at once!’ The blonde-haired girl, with pert and quite pretty features, looked sulky. Her gaze turned from her father to the sober-suited man alongside him. One had the impression that she might, at any moment, put out her tongue at either or both of them. But she did not. Instead she walked slowly across to an armchair and picked up a women’s magazine which lay there. The pertness on her face had taken on a cheeky look — something which it could all too readily do. ‘I said at  once , Pam!’ ‘Got to have something to read if I’m to stay up there.’ She continued to flip the pages of the magazine and a look of exasperation passed over her father’s face and he glanced at the man alongside him. ‘I am afraid, Mr Jackson, this tendency in your daughter has been reported to me before now.’ ‘Has it? I’m not surprised. Pam, for the  last time , go up to your room!’ Unhurriedly, t...

From Blushes 15 Everyone — or almost everyone — called her Didi, though it wasn’t her proper name. Sometimes when she was excited she would stutter it. Sometimes when she was being spanked, that is, and it was awful being spanked. Most awful, too, when her tight blue knicks were carefully rolled down for it and she was aware of the naughty exposure of her pert, smooth cheeks and the cleft between them which she would tighten defensively as a leathery palm rose and fell, stinging, stinging, burning. Sometimes now, Didi had to take her own knickers off, and she could never decide whether to show her bottom first or her… or her… or her pussy as it was called. So sometimes she stood sideways and pushed them down, but then that showed her puff and her bottom, too, so it was difficult. Today she had to go and help old Mr Jenkins, though she hadn’t wanted to, but her stepmother had said he was a nice man and couldn’t manage on his own ...