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

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He (the unknown) smiled at her concern that he might leave her there. He held all of the cards for the moment.

“So, what do you think I should do? Two heads are better than one, and all that.” He put the ball back into her court with that question.

He was the one with the two heads, the big one, and the... the other one that, to her view of things, didn’t look that little.

“Lift me, and free me from this.” She made it sound simple.

“I will, if I can.” He mulled over how he would do it, speaking out loud. “I will need to get very close to you. And If I drop you, or I slip, then you may suffer even more when my weight lands on you and we both slip down together, leaving most of your clothing up there.”

All of it, if he had his way.

“It will be an even more splinter-filled ride, for you.” He saw the anxious look on her face.

“You will have to hold onto my neck while I lift and hold you under… under you, and I believe you are already very tender under there, (she was. He could see), and I will need to lift you with both hands under you, as you put your arms around my neck to hold me close." And who might know where her panties... or his shorts... or his face would be (nestling into her tits of course)? He stopped there.

Her panties were already effectively non-existent. She knew he wasn’t joking.

Once she was released, god knows where her panties would wind up, (or where his shorts would be, or his hands, or another part) or what he would be touching of her, or with what. She could see that he was enjoying this!

“I would have to hold you under there to give you the best support, of course, and not for any other reason.” He was laying it on thick and not very believably. “Not much choice, really. ” She saw how that might go. “Painful too.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. She didn’t like to see that look either. “You may be embarrassed with what I will need to do to help you. I know I will be.”

Liar! Why would he be embarrassed? Males could not be embarrassed.

She should warn him of something. “I’m heavier than I look.” She was well muscled too, as he would soon find out when she got down.

“Don’t worry, I’m stronger than I look, (he didn’t look that strong) but doing it that way is not my first choice.”

“Why were you at the hockey game?” That was a question out of nowhere. Why did her mind ask distracting questions at such a time as this of all times when he was debating how to get her down?

So she had seen him. He knew she had. Did she really want to know that, at such a time as this?

Could he just be honest and say, 'to watch you of course? To watch your gorgeous tits flying around, wondering how much longer they would stay in your bra; to admire your shapely legs and your knickers, as he imagined undressing her and then making love to her on the sidelines, and never mind about the other players who would be standing and cheering him on as they waited for their turn with him.'

Well, a man could dream, couldn’t he?

Or could he be much more honest and just admit that he had fallen in love with her the moment he’d first laid eyes on her when he had watched her a year earlier on the same field. That was when he'd first admired her athleticism and skill (as well as her breasts and body) or had been lustfully drawn to admire everything about her. And then the questions would really fly as she either felt violated, insulted, or would just be outraged over such an obvious lie, which was not a lie, and walk away from such a nutcase. If she could walk away.

It was one of the ongoing tragedies of life; not being believed when one was being entirely truthful.

None of it was a lie. He had been strongly attracted to her, and had been, for at least the last year wondering how in hell he would get to meet her in such a hostile environment to talk to her, even as she knew nothing of him or of his attraction to her. She would run like hell and he couldn’t blame her. His chance had now arrived. He had better not crash and burn, but he was already close to doing both of those things from what he could sense of her hostility.

He could see that she wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said, so he would say nothing about that. No one fell in love like that or so quickly as he had done, though love, or lust, was hard to distinguish. They were both a kind of mental derangement driven by hormonal overflow, and nowhere for it to go but into that aroused part, to be released in a most unsatisfying way unless one had some kind of co-operation from the right one of the opposite sex.

After this, she would take out a court-order on him to keep him away from her, or would do something just as drastic (ban him from watching their hockey games), but at least now, he would get close to her for once in his life.

He was here now, and so was she, and all by accident. He didn’t want to piss her off so soon. But he would certainly do that over the next twenty minutes with what he knew would have to happen to get her down, though she did not know it just yet.

She'd asked about him being at the game.

“I heard the noise of your game from the house.” He indicated by gesturing with his thumb, the direction of his home, very close to where they were. A hop, skip, and a jump. “I was studying, and I needed a break. It sounded like you were having fun so I wandered over to watch.” At least that was true.

“Boys are not allowed.” She wished.

He corrected her in his mind. Extra balls were not allowed. And he carried extra balls. Two of them. One ball on the field at a time. The girls had been known to drive an unwelcome male from their game by chanting Off! Off! Off! and crowding ever closer to him as in a flash mob.

He smiled at her. “Actually, they are allowed. They are just not openly encouraged, but the school has nothing to say about that. It’s the girls who try to discourage it by bombarding the poor innocent observer with errant balls aimed his way. He has to keep his eyes open or be injured.”

He must have watched them doing that.

So, he knew about that trick.

“You girls don’t seem to like being watched.”

“Ogled,” she corrected him. He was ogling her now. Boys were not there to watch the game, they were there to ogle the girls, to leer at them and to fantasize about what they would like to be doing to them, all of them, after they had undressed them, and then doing it to them; nailing them one after the other on the field or in the showers afterward. Just as he was doing with her right now in his mind.

So far there had been no flashers. They wouldn’t have survived the long walk home without any clothing whatsoever. They might have had to leave their balls behind too, once they'd been tackled by a mob of fit and angry sirens.

“Ogled, then. I hoped I wasn’t being that obvious. Anyway, I was not discouraged.” No balls had been aimed his way either.

She re-thought things. Perhaps her skirt coming off (the lesser of only bad choices) would be a better first step before getting her down. And then once he had freed it from where it was caught up, she could put it back on and go back to school.

If he held under her to lift her, her injuries would be painful, and he might try to touch.... No, he could not avoid touching her there, so he would certainly touch, and then plead that it had been unavoidable. He would discover too much about her, and it would all be uncovered for him to discover and touch.

“I have changed my mind. I will take my skirt off, with your help, though I am not sure how I will do that.” They were both on the same page at last.

“Very sensible. Yes, It is quite a climb to get to you. The floors are at least ten feet apart. I think your skirt coming off will be the better plan, and I will have to do that for you. But then what? I can’t just let you slide down.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead but she began to think about it now. She would skitter down the ramp, taking him with her, picking up even more splinters on the way down, and god knows where her bra or panties would be. Or where he would be relative to her, and with what. That again. She was not even sure the clasp on her bra had survived.

“Then I shall suggest something.” She was all ears.

At last!

“What?” She was ready to reject anything he suggested. Or give in gracefully. It was not getting any less painful or precarious for her.

“The obvious thing to do, is that I can stand here, on the ground, lean up against the ramp, reach up to you and hold your feet steady. I think I can just reach them with maybe a few inches leeway if I lie flat along the ramp.”

She saw it all in her mind. If he did that he would risk getting splinters in his belly, or in that other obvious item of his, still sticking out, and serve him right. He would also be staring up between her legs! Unavoidable, however.

“You can then inch back up the ramp while I hold your feet still, (he could look up between her legs even better then, and closer, as he did that, and would see more of her in better detail, especially if her panties were off, or moved). Then, you can undo your skirt, leaving it up there (hopefully, with her bra, panties, and blouse).

He was thinking like a stuck record.

"After that, you turn around, hold on to your skirt as I hold your feet, and then you lower yourself down, holding onto your skirt as I bring your feet down, alternately, a few inches at a time.” He could then look up at her again from behind her. A different perspective on heaven and the promised land.

A 'two-fer', as he thought about slipping her a few inches of something else that would smarten her up as she backed down onto him once he’d dropped his shorts.

God knows where her panties might be at that moment.

It left him breathless thinking about it. He’d try to keep a memento out of all of this, and her panties would be the easy thing. She might not miss them until she got back to school.

She didn’t like what he would be able to see of her as he did both of those things; her, with no skirt on; the uncertain condition of her panties; and with her delightful, softly -rounded posterior exposed to him. Not only that, but with her panties caught up and trapped between the lips of her vulva, rather than covering everything, he would see far too much of her. Hair too! They may actually be covering nothing when she managed to get down.

However, she knew that what he suggested was the only sensible way to do it, so she would put up with that hopefully brief, and not too revealing embarrassment.


At last she agreed to something!

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