Tales Told Out Of School. 1. A Kitten in Delightful Trouble.

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Building the Case.

She groaned and gave in, having no choice.

“You may as well take them out of me if you can.”

Just so long as nothing else went into her in exchange.

He smiled. “Wise girl. And thank you for trusting me at last, when I do not deserve it after what I said. They are all small, so it may take some time. The bigger ones are in another place.”

He wouldn’t say anything about that other sacred place just yet, but it was always on the mind of every man, aching to worship there within its portal.

He sat on the floor behind her as she leaned over the table. He started behind her knees, admiring everything he could see—his body responding, of course (she could see him in another mirror and watched him carefully)—and worked up to her panties. He then moved to the other leg, pausing every so often to catch his breath. She did not understand how he was finding it so difficult to do this, or was he timing his opportunity as he gauged her vulnerability?

He kept up a running conversation all of the time he worked; repeating himself, distracting her as he explained how the person who had repaired that planking on the ramp had installed the plank the wrong way, so that the grain was pointing up-slope rather than down it, and that was why she was facing this difficulty. The one who had done that repair cannot have imagined that anything other than a hay-bale would slide down it. As she had!

He then admitted to her that he had done exactly the same thing himself when he had been about eight, and had suffered the same way she had, when he had thought to slide down it.

Good! He deserved it! Ouch! Ouch! And another ouch!

It was a good thing she was facing away from him and could not see, except in that mirror, what his body was doing or what he was aching to see of her, and even to touch, to gently slide his fingers into the edge of her knickers and open them a little more, move them to one side-- they were stretched enough-- or even to ease them down her legs. She might not even notice them going. They were close enough to coming on their own. Just like him.

When he'd finished, she felt him gently move the leg of her panties on each side, pretty well as he had when she had backed down the ramp, and take other close-up photographs inside the legs there. He used the flash this time. He did what he did so quickly, as he had on the ramp, that she did not have time to complain or stand up before it was done.

He gave her the camera as he stood up from her, and brought a cloth into play to wipe a mild disinfectant down the back of her legs.

Oh... that felt so good.

While he did that, she saw the last photographs that he had also mailed to himself before handing her the phone. She could see some hint of reddish rope burns, though there had been no rope, and saw some even larger splinters out of sight inside her panties until he had lifted them away from her, and there were undoubtedly others. The most alarming thing, was that he had also captured some hair in those last photographs, along with the swollen lips of her vulva, and his fingers holding her panties open. And it had not been accidental what was displayed.

He tried to take her mind off that. “I suggest that you stand up and walk around the table. That will tell you whether or not we need to progress to stage two.”

Plan C... stage two. Was there a stage three?

She saw him smiling at her, but it was a smile of concern, and not one of gloating. She knew what stage two would be; her panties coming off. She did not like that thought. But what choice did she have? Him, knowing all of this intimate and awkward stuff about her, or perhaps the entire school learning about it when the nurse and her student-helper finished poking around her perineum and her vulva?

Lesser of two evils. If it was the lesser. But with her panties off...? Another big step closer to a bigger problem. Yes, he was still hard and obviously keen to be at her!

She straightened up and then began to walk around the table as he watched her. She quickly grabbed at her panties before they descended any farther.

It felt like she had a porcupine between the top of her legs and in an even more sensitive place. Things had just become worse. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She could not easily walk, so stopped, turned to the table and leaned into it in obvious distress, taking her weight on her hands, with tears of anger, frustration, and helplessness on her face as she looked pleadingly at him. He could do exactly what he wanted to do to her with her like this, and she wouldn't be able to stop him.

She had been determined to put up with it and get back to school, have a bath, and get them out for herself. But what if she couldn’t? She would have to get dressed and come back here. Or face the nurse and all of her questions. She still wouldn't dare tell the nurse anything. But her concerns were all academic. She couldn’t even walk back to school.

She realized the futility of continuing to fight this, and gave in.

“You’d better do this for me, please.”

He stood by her, picked her up and took her back to where she had started, just three feet away. She wanted to ask so many things, to tell him others, threaten him, even plead, but it was too late for that. She asked an entirely foolish question instead.

“After what you said earlier, why should I trust you?” She dared ask him that after what he had said and done to show her just how untrustworthy he was?

He sat on the table in front of her again, and gently swept the tears of helpless frustration, shame, and anger off her cheeks with his thumb and his fingers, even daring to lean in and kiss one away. He so wanted to lean in and kiss her lips as well, but that might roll things along too fast even for him. He took her hand again.

“Confession time." He sighed, heavily. "No, Erin. I will be brutally honest. I would like you to be able to trust me... I would so like that... but you cannot, and must not trust me. Not the way I feel for you. Surely you know that.”

She knew it now. She could even see it in his look and in his sparkling eyes. Eyes she wanted to trust. He had honest eyes. But he was also a mischievous sod!

For the first time, she sensed that he was being honest enough that she could believe him about not trusting him. It was important for him to tell her that.

“But you need to trust someone, as difficult as that will be, considering how I have behaved so far, and considering how I feel, emotionally, for you.” He was venturing out onto some very dangerous ground, and must be careful.

He had emotional feelings for her? She already knew that too, but what did that mean, and what kind of emotional feelings? Unfortunately, she thought she knew how he felt for her, and it was not neutrally, but lustfully, and he had the controlling hand.

He continued. “You should never trust any man who feels for you the way I do. You know that by now, and especially not me. What an idiot you would think me if I were to try and mislead you with such an obvious lie.” He took a deep breath.

“This is a very precarious position for me.”

It was for her too.

“I like you too much to hurt you deliberately, Erin, but I also like you so much, in such a difficult way, that I may inadvertently harm you in my eagerness. No, I don’t think you should trust me at all. Not the way I feel for you. And there’s the rub.”

He must know some Shakespeare to use that word...rub... in that context. He was entirely believable now.

“There, I am a total contradiction, even to myself. Honest, to the point of stupidity. How could you possibly trust me after that?”

She hadn’t expected him to say that, but had expected to hear him tell her that she could trust him implicitly, as boys always did. Every last lying mouthful on the way to getting into your panties and then screwing you. Always that inevitable progression. Distract with flattery and lies, disrobe a little at a time, deflower! Or, talk... touch... fuck!

“So now I have to tell you things that maybe I shouldn’t tell you quite so soon about my feelings for you, but I must, even though it may hurt my cause in the long run.”

Everything was rolling along too fast between them. He took a deep breath and looked into her face as he touched her hand, picking it up, smiling at her, then raising it to his lips to kiss.

“I intended to visit my mother for just a few days this summer, except I saw you playing hockey again. When I saw you, it all flooded back to me, my memories of you from a year ago, my hopes, my dreams... other awkward feelings... but even stronger than I felt a year ago, and you never knew the faintest part of it. You knew nothing of me or of my feelings for you, which are... very strong.”

She began to sense that, and could see it in his eyes.

“You didn’t even know I existed. I knew immediately what I wanted when I saw you again.”

Her, of course. He didn’t have to say it. Her heart had just begun to settle down at last and her fears had also begun to diminish, and then he had to say something like that and inflame everything again and set her heart going like a machine gun... ratatatatatatatat!

His face was swimming through her tears as she blinked them away; futilely.

“I knew that I had to stay longer and to meet with you if I could, before you graduated and left for the last time. I already knew your name from a year ago, before I left for university, and I wanted to know everything about you, but not this fast, and not this way"

Liar! liar! liar!

"I would have preferred it to be gradual; as impossible as that would have been with the little time left in the term, and the general hostility of this environment for a male.”

She understood what he was telling her, but was not sure she could rely upon him to be entirely truthful at this particular moment. She no longer knew what to believe, or who, or whether to trust.

“In short, dearest Erin…” He breathed heavily, knowing he might regret this… I fell deeply and madly in love with you last year and I know I should not be telling you this.” He blushed over his rush of words, and bowed his head, waiting for her withering response.

She didn’t say anything. She was tongue tied. Gobsmacked!

He was telling her the truth! She should have seen it before now.

“How’s that for being a complete idiot, telling a woman you love her when she doesn’t even know you exist? Chump of the year award! Good one, boyo.”

He was chastising himself for telling her the truth about his feelings. He had a pained expression on his face waiting for her to laugh at him, wither him, destroy him in his honesty.

Erin was stunned, but knew that he was telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but….

He looked at her and continued. “How in hell would she dare believe a word he said?” He was speaking in the third person for a moment, but it was all about him.

No, it made perfect sense to her. It was true!

She’d noticed him racing down the sidelines with the play, cheering them on, cheering her on, and had been conscious that he looked only at her; cheered her successes and only hers, and went quiet or was more subdued for the others’ successes, or when he feared his eagerness had been detected. The other players could have been wooden stakes driven into the ground for all he noticed them. Oh, yes, she had noticed him and had been mildly flattered and curious about this selective observer, but she had not really seen… until now. He’d been taking her panties off even then in his dreams and violating her body so nicely, so gently (if there could ever be anything gentle about that), she knew it now.

He touched her face, and she felt herself turning into his hand, encouraging more from him.

“I hope you know what I am saying, Erin, without me spelling it out any more clearly than that, and making more of a fool of myself. It’s too soon to say more of how I feel, (I already said enough), but I might never get another chance after this, and I would prefer that you knew, rather than not know before we parted. Possibly never to see each other again.”

You now have my permission to laugh.

Or you could just take off your panties for me, or even all of your clothes as I would so much prefer, and we can get straight down to business, and down to the short strokes after I get those other cheeky little splinters out of your quim before I can get in there.

She nodded, but was not about to laugh, having difficulty breathing and not daring to say what she was thinking. She tried to fit the different pieces together of what he had progressively said to her, and admitted.

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