Room 2D

A photo-story from Blushes 81 with Jane Williams. Fairfield Sixth Form College for Girls was small and largely residential. It occupied a rambling Victorian country mansion in rural Hertfordshire, several miles from the nearest village and further still from anything that might answer to the description of a town. It was comfortable, the house having been converted to reasonably modern standards, and it had lovely grounds, but it was undeniably isolated. This was not a problem for day girls, driven in each morning and correspondingly home again in the afternoon, but there were only one or two of these. For the other twenty-odd girls Fairfield’s isolation could be a problem. Miss Singleton, the principal, was not keen on girls having passes out. Not when, whatever the reason given, the requester of the pass would undoubtedly be meeting a young male or even an older male. Because girls weren’t sent to Fairfield to be out with males,...

Short and sweet, from Blushes 11 Long summer evening; the sun’s heat through the day has made the atmosphere up in the loft room warm and humid. Laura hears him downstairs, taking his time  —  she kneels on that chair and tugs her knickers up so that her bottom will be ready for one or other of those things in his horrible box. Fresh-bared skin feels sweat-damp in the still air. He usually likes to have her like that, although sometimes  — ‘Hope you’ve got your knickers down, Laura!’  —  his voice from the foot of the steep stairs. ‘Y-yes  — ’   she calls, and slips her pants down quick as she can before his head appears at floor level at the top of the steps. Warm slidey moistness as the tugged-up tightness between her cheeks pulls from between the chubby snugness of her buttocks. ‘Now then, young lady  — ’ Laura gulps miserably, and pushes her ‘naughty little bottom’ out with uninte...

From Blushes Supplement 22 Today, just after lunch, I saw young Sally down by the old man's shed. Just hanging around I think. I watched her from my allotment, over the hedge. It must be a good ten years or so since they moved into the village. She's a good-looking girl, no doubt about that. Lovely shoulder-length curls of reddish hair, bobbing around as she turns her head this way and that. And she's grown quite tall since her earlier teenage years. I wondered what she was doing, on her own, down by the shed. She definitely looked uneasy as though she hoped no-one was watching. She couldn't see me, though I was so close I swear I could feel her perfume on the sultry warm air. She was looking for something. First she stretched up, feeling along near the top of the door, and I saw her nipples pressing out against the taut material of her tee-shirt. I must confess I've often wondered what she looks like. I mean, ...