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I know Miss Susie, our strikingly beautiful Headmistress, lacks the benefits of a Classical education, but I was surprised when she snort-laughed at my suggestion that we should call these stories of school life, ‘Lays of St Trinian’s.’ Surely she had heard of the ‘Lays of Ancient Rome?’ Still, I suppose she did approve in the end. When she stopped laughing she said: ‘Well, it does describe the subjects of your story.’ Such a typically kind comment. I do hope I interpreted her correctly. I was a little distracted by that time, as she had me against the wall, and her hand was in my panties. But I think I got it all. Anyway, to the ‘Lays of St Trinians,’ and enough of my services to Miss Susie, well, for now. Where to begin?
The downside of being Deputy Head at an all girls’ sixth-form College is pretty much the same as the upside, at least if, like me, you are a lesbian. There are lots of gorgeous young women, all above the age of consent. One is surrounded by gorgeous young ladies, but one can’t touch, professional standards and all that. It is like working in a gin distillery and being told that you can’t sample the product. Speaking of which, as it is ‘wine o’clock,’ I shall have a quick snifter. That’s better.
So, when I first arrived, at the behest of the Head, Miss Susie, I had wondered why there was such an array of beauties? It was not like any of the schools I had served the last decade in, where there had been the usual rag, tag and bobtails; this was like walking into a fashion house. And there, as I soon discovered, was the problem.
So, take for example our Head Girl, Rebecca (be still my beating heart at the thought of taking her, or even better, her taking me). Tall, willowy, classically beautiful, with legs that seemed as tall as me (I am 4’10”), and the figure of a fashion model; what was she doing in a Crammers? (For our American readers, I should explain that is a place where school students who have failed their college entrance exams, which in the UK are called Advanced, or A levels, can be crammed for a year with the knowledge needed to pass). She was clearly very bright, she was charming, beautiful and had the deportment of a fashion model. There lay the problem.
Rebecca had been spotted by the fashion industry when she was fourteen, and such were her dazzling looks, that she was in increasing demand. Puberty had given her height, but not weight or what Miss Susie called ‘boobage.’ Her small, perfectly-formed breasts set off any item of fashion wear, as did those long, long legs. She had made a small fortune, which, as she told me one day, she had invested successfully in a portfolio she managed herself. What on earth was Rebecca doing here? I had asked Miss Susie that very question.
Susie’s eyes always lit up when Rebecca’s name was mentioned, and I’d noticed Rebecca would sometimes blush in her company, but I thought no more of it, after all, it was clear Rebecca was not gay, and I was Susie’s secret lover.
‘It’s easy, Hoffy,’ she said, ‘the minx spent so much time with Kate Moss that she flunked her A levels and can’t get into the top university she wants. She may be drop-dead gorgeous, indeed,’ she said, her eyes growing bright, ‘she is, but she has a brain, and she wants to be a City Banker, and she needs a degree for that. But she is so clearly top drawer material, we offered her the Head Girl’s job on the spot. It means she gets her own room, and can wear what she likes casino şirketleri at weekends. She’s almost an auxiliary member of staff; a great help to me, Hoffy.’
There it was, that look again.
Still, who could blame Miss Susie?
I noticed that our new History Teacher, Miss Natalie, got the same look in her eye when talking about shy young Ann, the great pet of the lower-sixth. She was forever offering her extra tuition, which was very kind of her, but I did wonder where she got the energy. But young Ann always seemed to energise her, which was lovely. It was such dedication to the students which made us the success we were. As Matron (who was, I thought, surely a man in drag, but best not to say anything, each to their own and all that) put it: ‘Trin’s gets the best out of the little bitches.’ I knew what she meant, but I did wish her turn of phrase was somewhat more contemporary.
Still, who was I to talk? Besotted as I was with Miss Susie (and which of the girls was not?), I had a tendresse for our English Teacher, Monica. A little older than me (well the same age more or less as Miss Susie, which was actually quite bit older than me), she was such a darling. Exquisite, always elegant (I did love her red silk dress and her French knickers), and perfectly-mannered. The way she said ‘Yes, Miss Hoffmann, as you wish, Ma’am,’ did something to me. In fact, she did something to me, full stop.
Our Sex and Physical Education teacher, the stunning American blonde, Miss Angie Sinn (what a good name, I later discovered), enjoyed exercising our sports team. She always paid attention to one of the fun girls, Julie, who was, she said, a promising beach volleyball player. I asked if it would not be advisable for Julie to wear a more supportive bra, as her breasts were well-developed, but Angie cast me such a look that I never asked the question again. Still, ever solicitous, Miss Angie always offered to help massage Julie after the game. She spent hours doing it; such dedication to duty.
Her English helper, Miss Dani, showed a particular interest in our very talented surfer girl, Emm. But then everyone took an interest in Emm.
If Rebecca personified the English rose type of beauty, Emm was the busty sexpot. Tall, well five seven at least, and with a bust that was at least 36c, she was the one girl in the School who could also have been a model. She had, she told me, played bit parts in ‘Bound Heat’ movies, but I couldn’t say I’d seen any. They weren’t reviewed in The Guardian, of that I was sure. Emm just smiled at me, and offered to send me the video link; such a kind girl.
Emm’s work in films had meant she had not done as well at her A levels, which she needed to become a marine biologist. She had been attracted by our beachside location, which allowed her to surf as often as possible. Surfing was clearly popular, at least to judge by the audience for Emm’s adventures. Oddly, lots of girls turned up at the end. I guess they just wanted to congratulate Emm, though I did wonder whether they should have been patting her bottom; this is after all the era of #MeToo. Still, girls will be girls, as Miss Susie always says.
It was an especial delight, in our multi-cultural era, that Emm was best friends with the charming and accomplished Melissa Dee, our American Rhodes scholar. Melissa often helped Emm late into the evenings, and was sweet enough to say that she thought my assistance casino firmaları was invaluable. It made me purr with delight, which seemed to please Mellisa, at least to judge by her ‘good girl,’ comment.
So pleasing to be able to help. She was also friends with another of our talented students, who edited the school newspaper, Miss Clara.
Young Clara, who was a talented journalist and, as she wrote for the magazine Cosmopolitan, was nick-named ‘Lady Cosmo,’ was another whose extra-curricular activities had hindered her academic progress. But she had her head down now. Quite why that caused Miss Natalie to snort-laugh, I had no idea, but was glad to have amused her. She was a bit scary, such a disciplinarian, well, at least that was what shy young Ann told me. I was glad she had a firm grip on the lower-sixth. I did ask her to keep an eye on Clara, as there were rumours that she had a young gentleman friend in the village. Cyril, the groundsman, claimed to have found ‘proof’ that a man has been in dorms, but that seemed improbable.
Then there was Alicea. Enigmatic, intelligent and thoughtful, she was brimming with ideas for how to bring girls together. She had leadership qualities, that one, and would go far. She was wary of Matron, but as I told her, if Matron identified as a woman, we should accept her as such and not misgender her. Alicea did not seem impressed, but she was young and very keen. She kept a close eye on Miss Susie, and seemed to be learning a lot from her.
Our new Indian school doctor, Dr Cumonass (I think that must be an Indian spelling), was most thorough in her care for our health, and insisted all who could should submit for internal inspections. Wanting to show the right spirit, I volunteered. Well, a little discomfort was worth it to be told that I was ‘Grade A 1 material.’ The cushion was such a help, and it was kind of Miss C to help.
Miss Cummington, the Head’s Secretary (and cushion provider) seemed rather smitten with Alicea. She told me that when she first came to Trin’s she had regretted the lack of male company, as her previous Heads had loved her outfits. Well, given the size of her ‘boobage’ and the blouses she wore, the poor thing had probably been harassed. I was glad that she had found a safe haven in an all-female environment. I wasn’t sure what to make of the funny look she gave me, but was pleased she was happy. I was not quite sure who her ‘little friend’ was, but was glad she had one.
The great news of the summer was that the delightful Emm had got married. Thankfully, in these enlightened times, and in the good progressive ethos of Trin’s, we could all rejoice that Emm and her wife, the delicious Australian exchange student, Belles, felt able to declare their love for each other. One of the lovely things about it was that they could share a bed with no chance of any unforeseen consequences.
It was, I said to Miss Susie, a great tribute to her that this ethos had been established so firmly.
‘Yes, Hoffy,’ she said, ‘now get back to licking my cunt, you tart.’
I was, as so often on a Friday afternoon, helping Miss Susie to relax. I had offered a shoulder massage one afternoon, and it had somehow turned into me on my knees eating her out. It had become something of a regular fixture. One could see why: Miss Cummington had gone home; Matron was usually drunk; the girls were doing their homework, and I had finally finished most güvenilir casino of Susie’s paperwork. It was the ideal opportunity for her to relax.
I so loved kneeling between her thighs. Her silk French knickers slid aside so easily to allow me access to her neatly trimmed cunt. As I worked on her clit with my tongue, she showed her usual appreciation, I did love her moans. She tasted so yummy, and I loved sucking her clit. As she put her legs across my shoulders, I loved the feel of her sheer silk stockings as they caressed my cheeks. Lapping upwards from her delicious arse to her swollen clit was, I had discovered, a sure-fire way of winning her approval.
I loved it when her moaning became throaty. As her breath grew more ragged, my efforts redoubled, and all of a sudden, I felt her thighs stiffen. I positioned myself to ensure that her sweet nectar did not spoil her French knickers, and was rewarded with a gorgeous mouthful of her juices, which I sucked until she was dry – and had stopped shaking.
She adjusted her dress,
‘My goodness, Hoffy, you are such an accomplished little cunt-lapper. That was splendid preparation. Young Rebecca will be here for her Irish oral in a moment, so make yourself busy, get us both a glass of wine, and have one yourself.’
Wiping my face on a wet wipe, I answered the study door.
‘Ah, Rebecca, how lovely you look.’
‘Thank you, Hoffy,’ she smiled sweetly, ‘love your new perfume, it seems familiar somehow.’
She blushed so prettily.
As it was Friday, she could have been in mufti, but always a stickler, she was wearing her full uniform, and a straw boater. She must still be growing, I thought, as that skirt seemed shorter than usual.
I went to the fridge to pour three glasses, taking two of them in.
Oh dear, I thought, that skirt had been a mistake. I could see, as I walked towards her, that sitting back in Susie’s comfortable armchair had caused her skirt to rise up. Her white cotton knickers were clearly visible, as was the slight camel-toe. She really should close her legs I thought, Susie wouldn’t know where to look.
‘Thanks so much Hoffy you are such a sweetie. You must let me have the name of that perfume, it smells like something I am familiar with.’
I did love Rebecca’s smile.
‘That will help with the strain of the oral, won’t it Miss Susie?’
There it was again, that delightful blush on Rebecca’s beautiful face.
Susie smiled, her eyes not quite focusing on me.
‘It will indeed, now, Hoffy fuck off, I need to work on Rebecca, see you later. Don’t bother with the panties, you won’t need them.’
It was such a delight, I thought, to have such an appreciative lover.
I took my glass of wine and headed for the garden. How thorough Miss Susie was, I thought, as I passed the window and heard loud heavy breathing. She was clearly ensuring that Rebecca was loosened up before they got into deeper linguistics.
Putting the finishing touches to things in my study later, I thought what a wonderful place St Trins is. It was such a good idea of Miss Susie’s to share some record of our endeavours. It will, I am sure, open eyes to the benefits of all-female education. But I am still uneasy about our motto. I do take, entirely, the first part: ‘We are the best,’ for we surely try hard, but ‘so screw the rest,’ seemed well, open to misinterpretation; but so much is nowadays, isn’t it. But in an era of #fakenews, I suppose our motto serves us well.
Now, as it was about time for Susie to return, I’d better get ready. Julie is about to arrive for her special nightly counselling sessions, and I must get her ready for the Headmistress. More soon.
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