Some of the girls at school talked about boys and what they always wanted to do, and how intriguing it soon became, especially after they had courage to take hold of it, him, and let it progress from there.
It was all about hards, erections, and boners. She knew nothing about him, but a little about them and what damage they could do to a girl, given the chance, and there was no way he was going to get into her panties and fuck her with one of those deformed monstrosities.
“Why does my skirt need to come off?”
He sighed. Not this again.
“Because I cannot remove splinters from what I cannot see in a good light, and your skirt will always be in the way.”
Translation: He wanted to get her skirt off her first, then get into her panties and bra, then he would fuck her, and then he would boast about it afterward. He might even hang that pair of her panties at the top of the school flagpole to announce it to the entire school, or nail them to the barn door like that thesis of Martin Luther that he nailed to the church door. Except it would indicate that she had been the one, nailed!
She could see it all.
He continued to speak, even as he smiled knowingly at her. “Your skirt will have to come off, first, and then after that, very likely, your knickers will need to come off.”
Oh no they wouldn't! She knew it! The sod! (she was fond of that word). Well, he had warned her about that. There was a look of alarm on her face.
This was likely to get out of hand. With her panties off as well as her skirt, she would be far too vulnerable.
“But, but….” She changed the subject quickly and corrected him on part of what he had said, rather than have to wrestle with the more awkward part of what he had said.
“They are not knickers, they are my, panties. Only little girls wear knickers. And they are not coming off, not for you, or any other man.”
He looked at her steadily, smiling patiently, knowing the powerful hand he held. She hadn’t thought about it fully yet. When she did, she would come around to his way of thinking. They would come off!
He tried to state it matter-of-factly, and reasonably, adult to adult. “They will need to come off you for me to help you properly. You felt those splinters there for yourself when you touched.... I would like to help you, but if you won’t let me…?” He stared at her suggestively.
Of course, he would put it that way. He was itching to take her panties off her. And everything else too. He was male. But then what? She felt disappointed in him. They really were all the same. Lying, devious, S O B s. She might not even get them back from him. She might never be allowed to leave here for a few days, coerced into being his sex slave. Maybe his mother wasn’t coming back.
There was a look of intense discomfort on her face, and she was blushing.
“No. They are not coming off.” She was quietly determined that they would not.
He persisted, as she knew he would.
Boys were all the same, with but the one thought in their overheated minds; fucking anything with tits and a quim.
“I know this is difficult for you.”
She corrected him as she fought for her modesty. “Not, difficult. It’s unthinkable, and impossible, and I've never done anything like this before.”
"Neither have I."
He sighed. “But it will have to be done, either here, or in the school. It’s your choice.” He began to sound reasonable again. “I don’t have to be the one to do it. If you like, I can get one of your friends to do this for you, here. No one else needs to know.”
He was giving up? (Not with that smirk on his face.) “You play hockey too well for them to let you go for such a minor dereliction as being out-of-bounds looking for a kitten.”
How about for being fucked during school hours, on school property by the grounds-man's son?
She would be expelled for moral turpitude after she went back to the school in tears, without panties, and complaining of what he had done to her; leaving her even more sore down there after he had given that part of hers a going-over with his part, that still looked to be as big as a baseball bat. It wouldn't just loosen her fillings, it would knock them out.
It was likely to be much more of a major dereliction, than just out-of-bounds if he got her panties off her, but it sounded necessary and reasonable, and they were only her panties, not her entire life.
Would that it were that simple.
Hold on now! Wasn’t that the argument a boy made, trying to persuade a girl to take her panties off, just for him?
They are only your panties. I just want to help you... it's only a minor dereliction... I promise it won't hurt... Just the tip, that's all, just to show you it won't hurt; honest, cross my heart....
Then before you knew it, WHAM! Nailed! Just the tip, my arse! That was when you got ALL of him! Wake up time!
It was so confusing. And then after that her life would be in ruins. Unless it went in a different direction as it did for some girls who landed squarely on their feet after they willingly gave everything up for the right man, letting themselves be fucked; encouraging it.
Others, were taken advantage off and then were dumped. But how did you know he was the right man unless you got to know him, and he got to know you? And that process took weeks, months, years; not minutes. A girl could get confused so easily. But that was what they counted on; confusion--the bastards!
It could go either way. And he was becoming more interesting to her--the way he looked at her, and gently persuaded, and became more reasonable-sounding with each passing minute, despite what he was saying. Was this how it ended for all girls when an intriguing man came along? And he was intriguing in a strange kind of way. Sounding more persuasive by the minute too.
Stop! That way of thinking would end with her being royally fucked.
“No one else needs to know?"
"You don’t know the headmistress.” She was blushing even more now, but he sensed that she was weakening. “No! You can't get anyone else to help me. We are not that good as friends.”
None of them were that kind of friend, and she did not trust them not to blab it all around the school. Or to try and ease her out of the picture and let him nail them instead. She was here first. So she might have to balance what to give up and what to hang onto.
Her panties fitted into both of those categories.
He was flexible enough that he adjusted his approach to sound much more reasonable, but with the same goal still in mind. Sneak in behind her defences.
“Then tell me what I can do to help you if you will let me." He paused and then dropped the big one. "But if you won’t let me help you…?" He threw his hands up. "Pouf! impasse! Back to school for you, and the school nurse.” That was expressive enough.
He persisted, but apologetically. “I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have joked with you about it as I did, and got you on edge. Think about it, and you will agree that it is necessary.”