Where it happened: A school room
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 8
Category: Straight
At 85 I’m not able to get around as muchj as I’d like to, but I like to think my mind is still sharp. My children and grandchildren have bought me this computer so I can travel around the Internet even if I can’t drive a car. And among my journeys I found this page and have been getting vicarious enjoyment even though my own sex life is long since over. And with all those years of typing all my late husband’s correspondence and doing his other paper work, my hands can still deal with this machine’s keyboard.
Some other older person (he called himself an “old fart”) wrote that he could still remember things that happened 60 years ago but not what he had for supper last night. Well, I can remember what i had for supper, but I ALSO remember events of 60 years ago and more, including how my virginity was taken from me.
I grew up on a farm in Montana and went to a little one-room school. I guess those are petty well gone now, but in those days it wasn’t unusual to have all the grades in one room with just one teacher, and somehow we managed to get a good education. Most of the teachers were good, dedicated people, but I had this one teacher who was one nasty man.
His name was Osbert Wilkinson, and he’s probably long since dead so telling this story can’t humiliate him. Well, what the hell, if he is still alive and it humiliates him, so much the better.
When I was 13 and in the eighth grade this teacher was always spanking kids hands with a ruler, making them sit in a corner with a dunce cap (yes, we really had those) and otherwise making them feel bad. So one day I drew a caricature of him on my slate — oh yes, we used slates — giving him a long nose that was dripping, like his often did. I labeled it “Snot nose Wilkinson.”
I put it away in my desk, not knowing that the son of a bitch had a habit of going through students’ desks after school, I guess to see if he could find incriminating things to use against them. So he found it, and the next day he told me to stay after school.
I did, not knowing what it was about. When we were alone in the room he pulled out my slate and said, “So you think this is funny, do you? Well, I’ll show you something that isn’t so funny.”
He pulled up my long skirt, up over my shoulders, and pulled down my bloomers. We wore bloomers then instead of panties.
I protested of couse, but he paid no attention. Then he had me bend over his desk with my bare bottom exposed and he used a razor strop – that’s something else you don’t see any more — to whip me. He gave me a dozen strokes and I was crying and begging for mercy. Then he stopped and said, “Now let’s try something that is really fun.”
He came right up behind me and reached up under my skirt to feel my young titties, which had just started to bud out. He said, “Oh, very nice, very nice.” Then he was pressing right up against me and I didn’t know what was happening and then I felt his cock pressing against my vagina.
I said, “Mister Wilkinson, what are you doing? Please don’t do it.” He just said, “So you think I’m a snot nose eh?” And then he pushed that cock into my vagina, after working and working to get it in. He got it in and pushed some more and I felt a sharp pain and I cried out.”
He said, “Now little bitch you aren’t a virgin any more,” and pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled until, well, I did begin feeling some pleasure from it even though I hated him for doing it. And then I felt him pouring his sperm into me, although I didn’t know at the time that was what was happening. Then I had an orgasm, and I had mixed feelings of pleasure, because it did feel so good, and anger at the man who caused it.
He used his handkerchief to wipe me off and said, “Now you can join your little playmates on equal terms,” and sent me out to go home.
In the next few days I found out what he meant by joining my playmates on equal terms. I learned that he had done the same thing to Wendy and Jean Anne and Carlotta and Amy. We talked about it and decided to get back at him, but we didn’t want to tell our parents, we were too ashamed.
Well, the last day of school Wilkinson told us all he was leaving us, he had a better job in another town. So we five girls waited until everyone else had left and he was getting all his books and papers together and then we ganged up on him. Wendy and Amy sneaked around behind him and tied a rope around his legs so he couldn’t move, then we other three pushed him over and held him down while Wendy and Amy pulled his pants down.
He was wearing long johns — something else that you don’t see any more — and they are a full body kind of underwear so we couldn’t pull them off, but they had a little panel in the back, over the ass, through which to go to the toilet and we pulled that down and exposed that much of his ass.
Then we took turns whipping that exposed ass, with his razor strop, while he was screaming and cursing and threatening us. Wendy said, “You going to tell our parents about this, snotnose?”
Well, we finally got our fill of whipping him and we just left him, legs still tied. And we never saw him again. By the way, he apparently had used a primitive kind of condom, from a pig’s intestine, so he didn’t make any of us present.
And as long ago as that was, I still get mad thinking of that son of a bitch, but happy at the memory of whipping his ass.
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