Tales Told Out Of School. 3. On Being A Man In A Girls' School.

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Things Go Off Track.

On that singular occasion when things had really gone wrong (and not that time in the pool area), she had not only learned about him in a much more personal way, but he had learned even more about her too. They had learned about each other. And, how!

The rest of the school had never known what had happened. It was their personal secret, and neither of them would choose to speak about it to anyone else, not even to Mrs. Waring.

Margaret had been assigned to see that he was not bothered by any of the girls while he had been fixing one of the drains from the womens’ washroom.

He had not needed to go into either of the two adjoining washrooms; one for students and one for teachers, fortunately, and run the usual gauntlet of problems with semi-clothed females (washing their panties out in the sink), but had access to fix the problem from a small space in the walls between them both, where he had access to all of the supply and drain lines, and which could be accessed from the main corridor.

The access panel was only twenty inches wide, and barely as high above the floor, and he had to shimmy in there on his back.

She had needed to stay close to him to make sure no one tripped over him (deliberately), moved his tools, or undid any of his clothing while he was lying there, half in and half out of that tight space and particularly vulnerable to attack. If anyone was to do that for him, it would be her, but only when the moment was right.

She was also there to pass him his tools as he requested them to let him get on with what needed to be done as soon as possible, rather than for him to repeatedly emerge, to get what he needed.

Margaret didn’t mind helping him. The other girl assigned with her, sat on the nearby stairs, heedless of showing her panties to anyone who walked by, even to him, and read her book, ignoring everything else around her.

Margaret sat on his toolbox outside of that space, and waited to see what he would ask her to pass him.

His flashlight was the first thing, of course, so that he could see where the small leak was.

“Is there a headlight in there? A small light on a head band?” She couldn’t see one.

“Okay, flashlight it is then.”

She pushed the button to turn it on, amazed at how powerful it was, and then had reached in to give it to him, feeling him reach out and take it from her. She could easily have undone his belt and even his shorts, as other girls might have done in passing, and he would have had difficulty stopping her. She smiled. She didn’t usually have those kinds of rebellious thoughts, but had them for him. But this was the wrong place.

She had made sure that as she handed it to him, it was reversed, so that he could use it without having to juggle with it. She knew that the flashlight had been shining directly up her skirt as he had taken it from her, and he would be able to see everything about her the way she was also sitting, had he wanted to. He had seen her that way before; the day she had dropped her books, and after that, in the showers, so it didn’t bother her.

He was a typical man. Well, perhaps not typical, but he would still be curious and 'turned on', seeing her like that. She was well aware of what he could probably see of her as the flashlight swept around in that small space, and up her skirt.

Unlike some of those other girls, she had panties covering her, for all the good they did. With such a powerful flashlight shining on her there, it would seem as though she had none on at all. There was nothing she could do about it short of moving, and she was not about to do that. If he wanted to look, let him look. She would not be harmed by it. She smiled and put her legs farther apart.

Then he had asked for two pipe wrenches, the small and the intermediate sizes. She raised the lid of his toolbox, found them, and passed them to him, before closing it and sitting down again as before, immediately in front of that opening.

She began to recognize what was happening with him when she noticed changes in his body as he lay on his back, inspecting the pipes. She was tempting him as she had tempted him a few times before after he had watched her showering in only her bra and panties.

She had learned enough to know not to tempt any man, but Steve was different. She was tempting him, and didn’t mind tempting him the way she was sitting so she did not immediately move. She watched the light move around, and inevitably, perhaps, come back, from time to time, to view what he could see of her under her skirt as he moved around. Had she known it might be this easy, she would have put on a pair of silk panties or not have bothered with any at all, except that would have been going too far. Some other girls might behave like that, but not her.

She tried to ignore what he was doing. This way it all appeared to be accidental and unintended on her part, even if not, on his.


Then she smiled at what she saw. He was becoming aroused in front of her eyes. She had never really noticed that about him before, except for that first time, when they had showered, and it interested her in a strangely specific way. This was not the way she usually behaved, but she had helped him in much less awkward ways, many times, and had slowly got to know him well.

She had also decided that not only would she like to know more about him, but would not mind if he learned even more about her in whichever way that might be done. They had known each other for more than a year now, and could trust each other. Up to a point.

She had never been around men much, growing up, despite her father being in the army, and what she had learned, had been from listening to the other girls in the open dormitory as they sat around and chatted, mostly about boyfriends and men. That was where the real education was. You learned things that were never taught in any class, and picked up an entirely new vocabulary, but one you could not use in school or in polite society.

Not so long ago, she would not have understood why so many girls wished to expose themselves to him as they did. She understood now, seeing those changes in his body, and beginning to feel as excited herself, as those other girls must have felt.

She was curious. Could he really be as big as he seemed to be? She wasn’t sure. She had never seen a man there before without clothing, not even that time in the shower. If she reached out and slowly undid his belt and then that top button, it would not take much to ease that zip down before he recognized what she was doing. She pulled her rebellious mind back from that folly. No. It was the wrong place and time.

She swore. She was behaving no better than those other girls who flashed him and exposed themselves to him.

His shirt had also pulled up from his shorts as he had reached deep into that recess, and she could see dark hair on his lower body disappearing down into the top of his shorts, which had also moved lower on him as he had moved into that space. She could even see the top of his underwear. And then there was that obvious bulge. Perhaps it was so visible because he was lying on his back on a hard floor, and she was not causing it. She knew about that, from glimpses, when they had showered and changed after their swims.

He could use only one hand to manipulate things in that small space so he had passed her the larger wrench, the flashlight shining up her skirt again, and requested that she adjust the gap to be one and a half inches or there-about, and then she could pass it back to him again. She fumbled with it, trying to keep it from touching her white blouse and marking it. That was when she fumbled it with her mind on this other thing happening in front of her, and instead of passing it to him she was startled enough that she dropped it on him. She had not intended to. It was a heavy wrench and it hit him where it would do the most damage. She heard him let out a cry as his body responded to that vicious and unexpected assault on it, every muscle tensing up, affecting his body and his legs, and then she heard his head hit a pipe. Then, nothing.

Damn!

He lay still after that, and did not move.

“Are you alright?” There was no response. Damn!

“Steve?” She moved closer to try and see into where he was, kneeling by his body, then she felt him begin to stir and to endeavor to get out of that space.

His hand fumbled outside at the edge of that opening. He was clearly disoriented, holding first on to the wall next to the opening, and then he felt around, as she knelt on the floor beside him, wanting to help, wondering what she could do to help him, even reaching out for him to hold her arm so that she could help pull him out. That had been one hell of a bash to his head and he must be injured in some way from that as well as from her clumsiness, dropping that wrench onto his crotch.

That was when his hand had gone straight up her skirt and touched her. She thought she might have let out an audible ‘whoop’, as he did that, but the other girl heard nothing, and there was no one else in the corridor to see.

Actually he had done much than touch her. It had all been accidental of course. He had grabbed and held on to her upper leg, with his fingers sweeping across her lower body, drifting through the sparse hair there, hooking into her panties from one side to the other into the leg, pulling them away from her body and even pulling them down her legs. She tried to back away, but couldn’t, not without losing her panties altogether and leaving them with him. He had scratched her too when he had done that, but all by accident.

He was hurt. He slowly emerged from that crawlspace with blood on his forehead from a cut. His eyes were closed with pain, and he lay recovering, still holding onto her panties and her leg, but not conscious of it. He had not touched her there deliberately so she did not fight him away, but let him recover first. No one else could see anything about them. He realized that there was a cloth in his hand and tried to raise it to wipe at his head, discovering that it would not come.

He slowly opened his eyes, raised his head, feeling something he had not expected, and saw where his hand was, under her skirt and tangled up in her underwear with it half way down her legs, and almost at her knees. He slowly untangled his hand, removed it from under her skirt, and then lay back again. His face was ashen, and his breathing was shallow and through his mouth, and he had drawn his knees up toward his body. He was clutching at his crotch with the other hand, in some reflexive action, but may not have been aware of doing that either.

She knew what the problem was, and apologized. “I am sorry, Steve, I did not mean to drop that wrench on you.” And especially not there.

Just as he hadn’t deliberately groped her, or shone that light up her skirt as he had worked. It had just happened.

He spoke. “How bad is it? My head.” He needed to know. He was not ready to speak about the other, more serious injury which was where the greater pain was, making him feel sick, but she could see the pain in his expression and in his eyes, and she had caused it.

She moved his hair to one side, still kneeling by him. He would still be able to see up her skirt if he wanted to, and see everything about her with her panties almost at her knees, but she no longer cared. Too late to worry about that, and this was not the time.

“Mostly a nasty bruise, and there is a cut where the skin split. A smallish cut. But the bruise is pretty nasty.”

He gingerly wiped the blood off with the back of his hand, and looked at it, deciding it was not bad enough to delay doing what needed to be done. There was nothing he could do about the other pain just yet, but he had to finish this job before he dared leave it, so he would grin and bear it. He slowly lay back again, breathed deeply for a few moments with his eyes closed, then, resting the flashlight and both wrenches on his midriff, he slowly inched back into that space again.

After a few moments of indecision, wanting to be sure that he was alright and would not pass out, she moved back to where she had been sitting, but closer this time, and to hell with him being able to see her. If he wanted to see her so badly, he could. She readjusted her underwear as well as she could after checking that no one could see her do that, putting her hand up her skirt to do that, even though he might be able to see; that light was still waving around. His legs were tight together now and drawn up to him. She must have really hurt him, and there was nothing she could do about it, but he intended to finish this job before he gave up.

He might not even remember what he had done to her, as he had floundered around blindly. He had been in a lot of pain, and she had caused it.

She heard him breathing heavily as he maneuvered with difficulty in that tight space, and then brought his wrenches into play as the flashlight moved around, shining upon her again as it moved until he could find where it gave him the best light to see what he was doing.

She knew better than to believe he was looking at her now. He hadn’t even been looking at her before. She saw him take the wrenches from where they rested on him, and heard him apply them to the pipes, then heard him grunt, and raise his feet for purchase, as he tightened the connection. He did it again. Something slipped and she heard a wrench hit the floor with a clatter. He swore again, politely, then he slowly emerged once more, passing her the wrenches and the flashlight into her hand, easily able to see up her skirt again, unavoidably now as he did that with her helping him, but she no longer cared.

His knuckles were bloody this time, and his forehead was bleeding. His face was drawn with pain. She could have been naked and he probably wouldn’t have noticed. He looked like he had been in the wars as he lay back and rested, recovering, his hand holding himself securely at his crotch again and settling things there, but only for a few seconds.

“All done.” He rolled to his knees, and brought the panel back in place, as she pushed the screws in by hand, and turned them enough to get a purchase, and then he screwed them the rest of the way.

Now it was finished.

He was pale and his face was drawn with pain that he was trying to conceal, and not from his forehead. Had he been able to, he would have been leaning his head against the wall to ease whatever pain was coming from his lower body. She would need to help him somehow and put her own concerns to rest. She hoped he was not seriously injured, but suspected that he was. Should she just go and call an ambulance? Better not leave him alone. The other girl was useless, and had ignored everything.

When she helped him to his feet, he was unsteady and leaned against the wall, still clutching himself as she put his tools away and closed his box, checking that there was nothing left behind. That had been quite a whack on the head and might be making him dizzy, but she had also hurt him with that wrench. For her own peace of mind she needed to know certain things. She also knew how she could help him. If he would let her. He would have to let her. She would give him no choice.

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