by Penny Birch
‘So I went through the motions and, rather to my surprise, she replied. She was guarded at first, shy too, but after an exchange of emails I persuaded her to meet me for lunch, and even suggested bringing a friend.’
‘Lunch? In Cornwall?’
‘I was hooked. She was so sweet. Intellectual, but very unsure of herself. How could I resist?
‘So I drove to Cornwall at the weekend, booked in at a rather nice hotel, right on the coast, and the next day met her for lunch. She had brought a friend, a suspicious and man-hating virago by the name of Carla. Fortunately I managed to turn that to my advantage, with bruised innocence when it was suggested I was only trying to get Sarah into bed. Aside from that, I managed to hold up my end of the conversation on art, philosophy and architecture, if I was a little weak on local history. I paid the bill too, the awful Carla included. What I didn’t do was attempt any intimacy with Sarah, except to kiss her hand as I left, which I hoped would be taken as a gesture of charming eccentricity. She accepted a date for the following weekend, sans Carla.
‘And so it went. We kissed for the first time the next weekend . . .’
‘You make it sound like something out of one of those soppy romance novels Mum used to read.’
‘Far from it. Shy she may have been, but she was no innocent, certainly no virgin. Like I said, we kissed, after lunch, on a pretty clifftop footpath. The next thing I knew her hand was down the front of my trousers, squeezing my cock. I responded, which wasn’t hard, and we barely got in among the trees before her knickers were down and she was stuck on my cock – up against a tree, if you please. It was a bit unexpected, but I did my best, even though I’m not really keen on sex standing up.’
‘Hard on the knees, I suppose.’
‘It’s not so much that. You can’t see the girl’s bottom.’
‘You can have a good feel though.’
‘True, and I did, even tickling her hole, which she didn’t seem to mind. She was really urgent, actually, clinging on like anything and writhing herself against me. She came just by rubbing herself on me, and I very nearly did it up her, but I had the sense to pull out and rub off on her stomach.’
‘She was bare?’
‘No, in a dress, which she’d pulled up, right up to her neck. She still had her knickers on, just pulled aside, and her bra, with the cups turned up. A very nice sight it was too. I do adore dishevelled female clothing.’
‘But no uniform?’
‘No. I was working on that. We got on perfectly after sex, and while she was certainly liberal, she didn’t seem kinky. Hot and straight seemed to be her style, with no real sense of naughtiness. Not that she was a prude in any sense and, when we made love the second time, she was happy to bend across a convenient rock for me. We were nearly caught by this old couple walking their dog along the beach, and that was what gave me my idea. Unfortunately it didn’t come to me until I was halfway back to London on the Sunday night. But I did have another date.
‘The idea was this. She liked being nude outdoors, for the feel of the air on her skin and the sense of freedom it gave her rather than for the sake of exhibitionism. People’s disapproval didn’t particularly turn her on, but it did make her feel resentful, her feelings being that she had a perfect right to go nude or partly nude, and that it was none of their business. What I was going to do was suggest that she wear her academic gown with nothing underneath, leaving her other clothes in the car. Then I could simply have forgotten to return it, nipped up to Ede and Ravescroft for a replacement, and all would have been well. Panties I could add if she’d bothered to wear any.’
‘In a gown and one of those funny hats, in Cornwall? She’d have looked weird!’
‘Yes, I realise that, and I was still trying to think of a way to justify doing it, other than simply for the sake of being kinky, the next time I saw her. She was late, and when she did come, I forgot all about her academic dress. She’d been doing something with the Guides, and she was still in her uniform. It was so beautiful, so demure. I had to have it.
‘I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it, but I was going to give it a bloody good try. First I needed the photo. I had the camera, naturally, and I made sure she had plenty to drink at lunch time. I gave her the old line about needing something to remember her by during the week, which was true enough, and I soon had her posing.
‘She was giggling like anything, really showing off, but shy, and it still took a bit of persuading to get a good rear view. As you saw, I succeeded. By then she was ready for sex, and game for just about anything. I got her to do a striptease, one article at a time, which had me so hard I thought I’d come then and there. She made me chase her through the woods too, with her in just shoes and socks, which I must say looked charming. She couldn’t really run, bare, and I soon caught her. I was too excited to really think, too drunk as well, to be honest. I just put her across my knee, standing, with my foot up on a rock, and gave her a bloody good spanking.
‘Well, at first she yelped like anything. They usually do. It got to her quickly though, or I think that would have been the end. After twenty slaps or so her bottom was nicely red, and she was sticking it up, and thanking me for doing it to her. I do adore that, when you spank a girl’s bottom and she’s grateful for it. So I carried on, until she was red and hot, and really panting. It was wonderful, with her lovely round bottom-cheeks dancing in the dappled sunlight, and the little cries she was making, quite romantic really. My cock had been hard all the time, just from what I could see, and what I was doing, and as soon as I stopped she was on me, sucking my cock while she diddled her fanny.
‘She came, still with my erection in her mouth, and let me do it in her face. Afterwards, she was full of excitement, chattering away, about how she’d never realised that having her bottom smacked could be pleasurable, and thanking me for doing it to her. In fact, I think she thanked me fives times in all. She is now a confirmed spankee.
‘Still, I didn’t have the uniform. Now, it hadn’t really come into our sex, although I had complimented her on how pretty she looked in it. I imagine she thought I was just trying to be nice, because before she had dressed up rather smartly for me, and she was a little embarrassed. Maybe that was why the idea of staying nude appealed to her. She did it anyway, and was quite bold about it, if a little nervous.
‘I don’t know if you have visited that part of the country at all, but it’s mostly slate, with small creeks cutting in from the sea, steep, and heavily wooded. There was a footpath at the bottom of the slope, a busy one, but we stayed firmly in the deep woods. Every time we heard a human voice she’d get that little bit more excited, biting her lip and ducking down among the ferns, and constantly throwing me little nervous smiles.
‘Didn’t she want you to strip?’
‘It didn’t seem to bother her. She just liked being naked herself, and showing me her smacked bottom, which was very rapidly too much for me to resist. I had her again, on a ledge among some ferns, with her uniform for a bed. She was stark naked but for the shoes and socks, me with just my cock out of my trousers. That’s always good for a spanked girl, to be in the nude while the man who’s punished her stays dressed.
‘Not that she’d have thought any such thing, but I did, all the time I was in her. She went on her knees first, with her pretty pink bum stuck up for my attention, so beautiful. I spanked her as I did it, and she diddled herself again, coming while I was up her fanny. I put her on her back after that, and sideways, with me kneeling up, so that I could see every detail as my cock went in and out of her. After that I was ready to come, so I had her cuddled up to me, sucking my cock as I stroked her bottom, feeling the hot cheeks and tickling her between them. As I got nearer I put the tip of my little finger up her bottom hole and another one in her fanny. She stuck her bum out, to get more in, and that was too much for me. I did it in her mouth, she swallowed, and licked up what she’d spilled on my balls, ever so dutifully . . . Look, perhaps a minute alone?’
‘In front of you? Here? Look, Jade . . .’
‘Just do it, I don’t care.’
‘We shouldn’t, I . . .’
‘Bollocks. We’re not even blood relatives. Just get your cock out. I’m going to toss you off while you talk.’
‘Jade . . .’
‘Do it, Rupert, for me.’
He swallowed, hard, and his hands went to his fly. It came down, his hand went in, to pull out a thick, very pale cock, already erect. I came round the table, sat by him, took it, fighting down that little hit of revulsion I always get when I touch a man’s cock. He sighed, and I started to wank.
It felt so odd, with my uncle’s penis in my hand, but I knew it had been coming. Every story session had got that little bit ruder, that little bit more intimate. Yet he’d never tried anything, not even watching, although he could have, easily. That was the key, that he’d let me do what I wanted to, and that was why his erect cock was grasped firmly in my hand.
He just sat back, eyes closed, enjoying it. I was so horny, thinking of him and the girl, with her bum all red and his fingers up her holes. I was thinking of the picture too, of her bending over in her Guide uniform, panties down, bum bare, showing her pussy off, and just before her virgin spanking.
My free hand went up my skirt, onto the front of my panties, pushing the damp cotton down between my lips. I found my clit, began to rub, all the while jerking at his cock. It wasn’t enough, and I stuck my hand down the front, onto bare flesh, finding my clitty once more. I focussed, thinking of Sarah, delicate, sensitive, thrown across my uncle’s knee in the nude, and spanked, in shock as her ripe little bottom was slapped up to a glowing red, gasping out her pain and astonishment, furious, humiliated, until her bum began to warm and she realised exactly why she was being beaten.
I came, thinking of that little rounded bottom, all red with the pussy-lips showing from the back, so lewd and so vulnerable. I’d stopped wanking Rupert, just squeezing onto the cock which had been in her body as my climax ran through me. As my orgasm faded I began again, tugging slowly, faster, and faster still, when he groaned, jerked, and suddenly my hand was covered in thick, sticky, male come.
‘Thank you,’ he sighed. ‘Thank you, Jade, darling.’
‘My pleasure,’ I answered, cheekily, trying to hide the emotion in my voice.
He blew his breath out, his hand shaking as he reached for his wine glass. I stood, crossing to the sink and twisting the cold tap on with the hand that had been down my panties.
‘So what happened with Sarah?’ I asked, rinsing the sticky mess off my hand.
‘Well,’ he answered, ‘by then I really didn’t feel right about it. She was so lovely, so open. There was no barrier between us, no pretence, no calculation.’
‘Except that you wanted to pinch her Guide uniform.’
‘Exactly, so I felt bad. I was close to deciding not to do it.’
‘So how come?’
‘Patience. I’m coming to that.’
He’d put his cock away, and that was that. There was no mention of what we’d done, no guilt, no moral discussion. He’d needed it and I’d given it to him, help, as he had given me so many times. There was nothing to say, and I certainly didn’t want to.
‘Sarah was incredibly eager,’ he went on, ‘so animated, as if she was releasing an immense amount of pent-up emotion, all at once. Perhaps she was. She still wanted to stay nude, and she couldn’t keep still, either. We moved on, both knowing that we’d have sex again as soon as I was ready. Unfortunately, the slope became steeper, with less undergrowth, until we could see the path below us and were having to scramble across patches of loose slate. We could hear voices too, and a dog, coming up from behind us.
‘She had to dress, and of course her clothes were wet and covered in leaf mould because we’d used them as a bed. That made it hard to get them on, and she only just made it, with the dog snuffling up to us just as she was fastening her skirt. She was giggling crazily, and really bright-eyed, full of mischief. There was no question of stopping, but we needed privacy, so we moved on to the head of the creek.
‘It looked perfect, because the footpath continued up the valley, but the far side of the creek was even steeper than where we’d been, with ledges of shale coming right down to the tide line. The tide was out, but it didn’t look easy, so it seemed likely that the head of the little point between there and the next creek would be about as lonely as you can get. We tried anyway, holding hands and laughing as we tried to avoid stepping in the thick mud of the creek. It got harder, until I was hanging onto a root with one hand and Sarah with the other, which is when I let go.
‘She went right in, bottom first, but just about everything got its share. The mud was thick, really thick, and she fell right over backwards, so her hair had gone in and her skirt had flown up. Her thighs were open, wide, and it did look sweet. There was a moment, as she lay there in the mud, her legs wide apart and the dirty stain creeping slowly up the front of her white panties, when I could happily have mounted her, or perhaps just relieved myself over her . . .’
‘What, pissed on her?’
‘No, my dear. Although after your monstrous sergeant I could see why you would think that. I meant hand relief, a rather old-fashioned term admittedly. Wanked over her? Is that better.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No. I would have done, but we might have been seen from the path across the creek, and I’d come twice in the space of just over an hour anyway. So I helped her out. She was filthy, absolutely bedraggled, with her hair plastered around her head, her uniform soaked and filthy, and even her panties soaked with dirty water. It was smelly too, a real reek, but to my amazement she saw the funny side of it, giggling and joking as we made our way back to the car.
‘She was in such a state, and very understanding about my leather upholstery, so she agreed to get into my robe, which naturally was in my suitcase, and to come back to my hotel to clean up. Even getting her changed in the car park was quite a thrill, with people coming and going while she was muddy and naked behind my car. She made a fair job of cleaning up, and I bundled the dirty uniform into a bag, bra, panties and all.
‘From there it was simple. Into Fowey, where she sat in the car while I bought clothes for her. Back to my hotel, where we had an excellent dinner followed by a night of more conventional lovemaking. Sunday spent in walking, talking and more sex. Back to the hotel for a tearful goodbye, only to find that the maid had removed the dirty uniform for cleaning just before going off duty, or so the under manager claimed in return for a tenner. And so back to London, trophy on board.’
‘Poor Sarah! Seduced, abandoned, just so that you could get your dirty little mits on her Girl Guide uniform!’
‘Not at all. I am seeing her this weekend.’
I had to admit he’d done better than me, which was a bit of a downer. I’d been really proud of pinching Mo’s uniform, and as he hadn’t said anything I’d assumed he’d failed or even given up. Instead he’d been carefully seducing the delectable Sarah, who I had to admit was cuter than Mo, if not so much my type. The uniform was better too, rarer for one thing and more feminine.
I was thinking about it on the bus home that night, about what made a good trophy. Rarity was obviously important, as unusual uniforms would be hard to get. Rupert had also made it clear that he rated formal uniforms over more casual ones, and ones with a long history over recent inventions. Then there was the question of how risky it was likely to be obtaining them.
The least impressive would be, perhaps, a supermarket checkout girl, with a common uniform, modern and casual in style, with minimal risk to pinching it. Rupert’s waitress fell into much the same category, while his air hostess better and my army sergeant better still. Sarah’s Girl Guide outfit topped the list, but there had to be better.
I could think of several, but the most satisfying was a really senior policewoman, say a superintendent. There weren’t many, for a start, while their uniforms were very traditional and very formal. The risk was high. In fact the risk was seriously high.
It was a lovely fantasy. To reach that sort of rank in the police a woman has to be really competent, intelligent, stern, mature, in control. In short, just the sort of woman I like to dominate me. All I needed was one with a secret lesbian streak, and who fancied small, curvy girls who enjoy being tied up and punished. How we’d meet I wasn’t sure, but once we did there’d be no barriers. She’d belt me, like Mo had done, really hard, with me strapped down tight over a chair or a trestle. She’d keep me in her house, like a pet, nude, or in nothing but high heels and collar. I’d be kept in a kennel, made to eat dog food, walked in the nude in her garden, crawling on all fours behind her. She’d take me down to a state of utter degradation, doing things to me most people wouldn’t think of doing to a real dog. Occasionally she’d take photographs, and even more occasionally she’d be in them, so one day, after a really tough night of whippings and buggery and worse, I’d pinch her best dress uniform, the photos too, and run for it.
I snapped out of my fantasy because a couple of women further up the bus were giving me very peculiar looks indeed. It was only then that I realised how hooked I was. Rupert’s fantasy had me completely drawn in, so that for the rest of the journey I couldn’t see a woman in uniform without wondering how to get her out of it. Not that I minded. It was fun, naughty too, and I could see that plotting was going to do a lot to lift the boredom of working as a temp.
I’d made plans to go to a bar called Betty’s, which a lot of the girls had talked about. It was more glam than dyke, but I like to dress over the top now and then, and there seemed to be a good chance of a pick-up. That was what I wanted, after talking dirty to Rupert for so long – some cool, sharp leather dyke to take me home and fuck with me until the morning.
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