Flashing Spanking And Wanking No 01

My new college had a curious location. It was between an all-boys school to one side and an all-girls to the other.

The first day was strange as all the boys and girls gravitated to the side of the common room that was nearest to their old school.

There was a no-mans-land between the two sexes as we both assessed each other. The odd girl knew one or two boys and passed on cordial greetings.

I was new to the college as we had just moved to a new farm ten miles from the edge of town. The move was caused by our old farm burning down in suspicious circumstances. We were lucky to escape unscathed, but I was left traumatised. I remember standing outside in only my nightdress in the dark, watching as our house burnt.

I cried as all my belongings were lost along with my hard collected wardrobe of clothes. My clothes were brought to the forefront as I stood in my short nightie lit up by the amber flames.

My brother Rob smirked, well wrapped up in his robe.

"Nice tits," he quipped to my amazement in such a stressful time. I quickly covered up with a hand over each breast.

"Nice bush as well," he smirked.

"What is wrong with you?" I rebuked as I lowered a hand to cover my lower region.

"Lighten up, Julie, at least we're still alive," he grinned.

"I just think it's the wrong time to be leering at your sister," I rebuked in disgust.

"I don't. I think you're a tasty piece of ass, and so do the firemen!"

I looked around in shock, trying to place a hand over my backside, exposing my breasts.

"At least they're discreet about it."

I went into shock looking at our house burn, thinking, 'a tasty piece of ass,' my own brother thinks I'm, 'a tasty piece of ass.' Oh god, I had wondered about him. He burst into my bedroom during the summer and accused me of looking at perverted things on his computer.

I denied his accusation vehemently, but before I could finish my protest, his arm had gone around my waist. He pulled me down across his lap as he fell to a seated position on my bed.

I screamed and kicked out as he lifted my skirt and started to spank my bottom.

"It's six of the best for you, my naughty girl!" He acted out as he battered my bottom hard. My ass stung with each blow causing my face to flush. It wasn't the pain that was distressing but the humiliation. He slowly counted out his strokes, taking an age between each one. I gasped in relief as he reached his sixth spank, only to be caught off guard with a quick, "And one for luck!"

"You bastard!" I cursed, kicking my legs doing my best to escape his grip.

I quickly stopped as I felt his finger hitch itself into my pantie waistband. He made a false start to tug my panties down, and my head filled with horror.

"No, Rob, don't!" I pleaded as being spanked with my panties on was embarrassing enough, but to be bare assed would take things to an excruciating level.

I could feel his hesitation as his finger eventually rested in my ass cheeks.

"Please don't," I begged, but still, I could sense he was in two minds as his finger pulled my pantie waistband upwards. My mind was completely taken in by his fluctuating finger until I felt a hardness in his lap.

"Oh, you've got a stiffy! What do you intend to do?" I bleated in horror. At that, he unceremoniously rolled me off his lap onto the floor and ran off.

I sat on the floor in anger as my ass throbbed from its onslaught. I stood up and lifted my skirt and lowered my panties, and studied my beaten ass in the mirror. It glowed red and tingled. What the hell was that all about?

The first problem was that our new college was ten miles away. That ten miles took an age to travel as the bus went around every little outpost en-route. For the first few days, I traveled in with my brother Rob until he made friends with some other boys regularly on the same bus.

Collage had started mid-September, and as it was still hot, so I kept wearing my short skirts, letting the sun get to my tanned legs. I thought nothing of it until one evening on the bus home while walking down the stairs. I noticed it was always the same bunch of men at the bottom of the stairwell. I swapped cursory greetings of 'good evening' and nice 'weather' and thought nothing more of it.

I wondered, In my naivety, why they were so keen to lift from their seats way before their stop. I was well aware of them looking up at me, but what man didn't? This particular evening the bus doors opened, and as I stepped out, I overheard, "She's got pink ones on today."

The pervy old bastards, I thought, cursing my own naivety for not cottoning on earlier. I decided from then on it was going to be long skirts, trousers and tights. I could just sit downstairs, but why should I let them dictate where I sat on a bus. The following day, I was too late to think of my covering-up strategy, something I didn't wonder about until I was on my way home.

This time while going down the stairs, I pushed my skirt down over my legs. I did this staring at the leechers down below. They all quickly averted their eyes, disappointment etched over their face. I jumped off the bus smiling at my victory as I walked along our long gravel drive to our house.

The next day I was ready wearing a long grey pencil skirt and white tights. That evening I walked down the bus with my long pencil skirt keeping my legs together, the nylon legs of my pantyhose rubbing together. At the top of the stairwell, I heard groans of disappointment as my panty-hunting audience quickly looked away.

The bus stopped, the doors opened, and I stepped off in triumph once more. As the doors shut, I heard a male voice say, "She's cottoned on to us."

Once more, I walked up the drive in victory, but there was an underlying feeling that it was hollow. I had a sense of loss as I somehow enjoyed that surge of excitement of randy old men trying to look up my skirt.

The following day, I sprang out of bed and changed my dressing order for some subconscious reason. My bra went on first, along with my blouse and tie. I stood in my bedroom bottomless unsure of what to wear. I then gave in to my inner suspicion that I liked teasing my little group of men and secretly wanted their attention.

I got my sexiest pair of lacy white panties and slipped them on, giggling to myself. "That'll get them excited," I thought as I pulled them up over my nether regions and then turned to pose in my mirror to see how they looked. I laughed to myself as you could see the outline of my black pussy hair. I imagined the men's faces on the bus and wondered what I could do to make things even more exciting.

'A garter belt and stockings,' I thought. I'd only had the one set due to the fire. I didn't really get on with them, but I had to try them like any conscious fashion girl.

I giggled as I stepped into the belt and rolled the stockings up my stretched legs as I sat on my bed.

I then put my skirt on. It was a regulation school skirt just long enough to stop me from being sent home by the masters and short enough to get attention. 'If only I could wear my micro-mini,' I thought, and immediately, I had an idea.

College was finished for the day as I awkwardly got used to wearing stockings and suspenders for a day. Every slight breeze I could feel dancing around my panties and bare thigh tops, reminding and exciting me of my trip home.

I rushed to the girls' room, slipped out of my regulation skirt, and slipped on my tartan micro mini. I could see that it only just covered the patterned top of my stockings. When I put on my blazer, I saw they were equal in length at times, looking as if I had no skirt on at all. 'Just wait to you get an eyeful of this boys!' I laughed and made my way to the bus stop.

I saw all my usual suspects get on the bus from my seat on the upper level as the bus headed home. The closer we got, the more excited I became about my catwalk exit. It was nice to feel sexually charged for once as I fleetingly thought it was high time I got myself a regular boyfriend.

I calmed myself, thinking this was what horny young girls did in place of a boyfriend. It was ironic as I heard the girls in class often complaining about fighting their boyfriends off.

How I wanted to fight off a randy boyfriend. I would dream at night of a boy trying to get into my panties, fighting him off to keep my honor before eventually giving in to him. My arms and legs open to invite him in as he took up my conditions of surrender, ripping off panties and ravaging me.

I tried to make friends with the girls, who happily complained about the various assaults into their undies. One even complained that a new boyfriend had spanked her until she quickly put a stop to it.

"Really?" I piped up, "I had a boyfriend do that to me," I lied, making out my brother's uninvited spank was by a make-believe boyfriend.

"I wish I hadn't have stopped him," commented the lusted after girl, "did you enjoy it?"

"Not at first, but like you, I wished it went on longer."

"I'm not going to stop him next time," giggled the spanked girl, "It certainly got me horny."

"That's going to happen quicker than you think," Interjected the girl's friend, "She's Rob's sister."

"Oh, No!" Gasped the spanked girl in mock horror, "You could have told me."

"Sorry, I didn't know he was getting on so well. We haven't been here two weeks."

"Oh, please don't tell him," she blushed.

"I get the feeling you want me to?" I smirked.

"No, please, not just yet. My name's Gemma by the way."

And so I had made my first friends, all thanks to my kinky brother. I wondered if he would tell Gemma about my spanking lie, but in doing so, he would have to confess that it was him who spanked me. That would reveal him as a pervert, but who was I to talk. I was a girl resorting to flashing her panties to old men to get my juices flowing.

I was impressed with my brother, though—a real quick worker. Gemma was beautiful, a real catch.

The closer we got to my bus stop, the hornier I became, and I felt my breath get shallow. I felt a pulse in my pussy as my head heated up. I quickly looked around the bus's upper deck and saw that it was safe for an exploratory feel of the situation up my skirt.

I opened my knees and slipped my hand between my legs.

"Fuck, I was wet!" I exclaimed. Oh, No, what were they going to see? What would they think of me? It was too late now. I was going to show it all in my wanton state.

The bus approached my stop, and I made my way to the top of the stairs, positively dripping with excitement. I worried what they might think of my wetness. Still, I consoled myself by assessing that this was going to be a one flash-only experience.

The bus stopped, and I slowly stepped down the stairs. I smiled down at my group of expectant perv's taking each step slowly and deliberately for maximum exposure.

They looked up boggled-eyed and drop-jawed in shock. They didn't look away this time but stared with their eyes locked on my soaked panties. I stayed a while at optimum viewing level so they could feast their eyes.

"Hello, boys!" I joked, enjoying their drooling looks of approval. They all gasped speechless at one time or another until I moved in amongst them to get off the bus.

I stepped off to a slew of ribald comments from my audience, who were now safe, knowing the doors would be shutting me off.

I walked up the drive feeling sexually alive for the first time in ages and imagined what sort of view they got. I got into my bedroom and placed a small mirror on the floor, and stood over it.

"Oh my!" I squealed to myself, looking at the reflection of my sodden gusset and very evident camel toe. I was 'on' and slipped a hand up my skirt and onto my panties. I had an excellent shuffle and gasped as I pushed the lace material onto my sensitivity. My legs buckled as I stood astride the mirror, Tribbing away without a care.

My bedroom door opened and broke my ascent into Nirvana.

"What are you up to?" Charged my brother before he realised what I was doing.

"Get out!" I screamed, which he instantly did, laughing as he made his way to his bedroom.

"My sexy sister!" I heard him laugh. He had complexly spoilt the moment, and I embarrassingly changed into my leisure clothes.

'Oh well, it was bound to happen,' I thought to myself as I had caught him masturbating on many occasions. It surprised me how easy he was to catch. He must have known his sperm omissions were easy to spot in his bedroom or the bathroom.

The next day at college, I walked down a corridor that went past the cloisters put out for our students to work in any free time we had. Ahead of me was a sexy girl called Caroline. She was a tallish girl with ample breasts and long blonde hair, someone I secretly envied.

As she walked ahead of me, I could hear whispered voices from the secluded cloisters, "Seven, seven, eight, six", I heard as she passed individual boys.

'What was that all about?' I thought to myself as I entered the same area.

"Nine, Nine, Nine, Ten!"

"Ten, are you in love or something?" Spouted one incredulously.

I quickly deduced they were scoring the girls who passed them, and I was highly flattered. So flattered I had to be sure, especially as one boy had given me a 'ten'.

I walked back past my line of judges, "ten" nine, nine ten!"

Two 'tens' I glowed as it was boosting my confidence enormously. I had to go by them again.

As soon as I was before my murmuring Judges, one jumped up.

"Hey! You're doing this on purpose," accused an attractive dark-haired boy named Mark.

I laughed and blushed at the same time, "Sorry, I just feel so flattered. I've never been rated so high."

"What do you mean 'rated'" asked one of the judges appearing over the cloister barricade.

"Nine and ten," I gushed.

"That's the number of cocks we think you could get in your mouth," the judge laughed along with his friends.

"Take no notice of Smut's; he's only joking. He gave you ten right away and not because of the size of your mouth!"

I was flabbergasted and relieved. Just being called a tart was enough for me. The boys introduced themselves, and I told them a little about myself.

At the end of the school day, I sat in the common room drinking a coffee, waiting for my time to move for my bus.

"Hello?" Cheerily introduced Mark sitting opposite me, "how are you finding the place?"

"Good, good," I stumbled, surprised that a good-looking boy like Mark was paying me any attention.

"Got to know anyone yet?"

"Only you," I embarrassingly flirted, instantly regretting what I had said.

"Would you like a coffee?" He offered, and I instantly accepted even though I was only halfway through the one I had. "This one has gone cold," I meekly explained.

Mark smiled and soon returned with another coffee.

"Thanks for defending me this afternoon."

"Defending you from what?" Queried Mark.

"You know, about the number of things I could get in my..." My voice trailed off as I was being over-familiar.

Mark laughed, "it's okay, you can say it."

"I don't know. It's like one-half of the college has taken its boys from a monastery and the girls from a nunnery."

"Tell me about it, five years in a same-sex school isn't healthy. I think they should be abolished," Mark opined.

I nodded in agreement.

"Did you go to a mixed school?" asked Mark, his face lighting up when I confirmed his suspicions.

"I thought as much," he grinned.

"How?"

"You're wearing stockings," he smirked.

"How do you know I'm wearing stockings?"

"I do now," he lent back, laughing, feeling pleased with himself.

"Bastard!" I retorted, blushing slightly at being found out. "Anyway, what has that got to do with going to a mixed school?"

Mark smiled, "All those horny boys and girls together. There must have been a lot going on?"

I pondered Mark's question, remembering that there were rumours aplenty but nothing concrete. Sexual tales took on a life of their own and weren't forgotten, weaving themselves into the school lore. The myths took hold and, through gossip, became tangible. That was enough. We wanted to believe. Any poor girl who got caught in a rumour, no matter how implausible, may as well have been caught red-handed in the act.

"Just rumours," I eventually confessed.

"And what about you?" Mark quipped, "do you have a boyfriend?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I snapped back instantly.

"Yes, I do, Caroline Hunt," he answered, taking me aback.

"Oh, I thought."

"What did you think?"

"You all rated her so low as she passed you in the cloisters," I confessed in confusion.

"That was my friends getting at me," Mark laughed, "and why they rated you so high so she could hear."

I sank mentally deflated as the high rating from Marks friends had boosted my ego.

"Don't look so down. My friends do like you, especially as you dress so sexily. You must dress like that for somebody?"

"I dress like this because it makes me feel good."

"Yeah, sure."

I took the last bus back from college as I got carried away talking to Mark. I was fascinated by his offers of coffee, and I drank them all and stayed. I only just made the next bus back and had to ignore my need to pee. I had to last an hour, and this time I was caught short. I was bursting to pee as my bus meandered through the countryside. I thought about jumping off, running into a wood, lifting my skirt, moving my panties to one side, and pee with my back to a tree.

That was okay in theory, but it was getting dark, and the next bus would be another hour. I didn't like the thought of being that vulnerable and decided to break my neck on the bus.

When these feelings started, I knew it would be close if I could hold out or not. I pushed my knees hard together, lent forward, and thrust my hands down over my privates, hoping to stop any unintentional release.

I cursed as I saw the bus struggling to pass a cyclist and rocked in my seat, my hands thrust harder over my vagina in desperation.

Time was going to be of the essence. I looked around and saw a few passengers on the upper deck of the bus. I thought if I brought my bottom close to the edge of the seat, I could let a small stream go, just enough to relieve the tension. I looked around and decided to take off my panties. My hands went up my skirt as I awkwardly lift my bottom from the bus seat.

I managed to wiggle out of them, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I stopped with my panties just clear of my skirt but still above my knees. I keep still so as not to draw any attention, as getting my ass out of my panties must have looked a bit strange to the passengers behind me.

I kept still unsure if I should go on just as the bus stopped to pick someone up.

"What no one ever gets on the bus here," I cursed, feeling the urge to let go. Instead, I clenched for all I was worth with my panties in no man's land. I worried if the new passenger came upstairs and made it to a seat near me. He would see my panties around my knees! What to do? I thought if I could bend over pretending to pick something up off the floor, I could cover my undies. I thought that was the best thing to do and then changed my mind. What if he sits on the seat opposite? I couldn't lean over forever, and what if I had to then get off before him? There was only one thing for it, pull them back up or take them off altogether?

I heard him clumping up the stairs, and I decided to go for broke. I pushed them over my knees and slid them down to my ankles. They were silk crimson red, an intended treat for all my bus stop admirers.

I heard the passenger walking towards me, and I panicked as my panties got tangled up in my heels. I pulled them clear with a jolt just as he passed me, and he caught me red-handed. Literarily, my red panties snapping away from my heels right up under my nose.