Tales Told Out Of School. 8: One, For All. All, For One.

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The Wilson triplets were on the school roof late one night when it began to rain. They should go in, but needed to pee. They stripped off their nightclothes, rolled them firmly, holding them under their arms to keep them dry, and stood at the edge of the roof, nakedly defiant, peeing, giggling. Sarah slipped. Clothing flew everywhere as her sisters leapt forward. Too late! She slid, stopping at the edge; her toes in the gutter. They had only their nightdresses to help her, so dangled them down to her. Le-an remembered the ground's cottage. She was naked, but Sarah needed help. She went down the ladders off the roof, running across the wet lawn, holding her breasts still. She knocked on the door. No response. She opened it and shouted. Hearing taps running, she walked toward the noise. A completely naked young man stepped out in front of her drying his hair, seeing nothing. He was shockingly aroused, as she could clearly see. They collided, heads bumping, then they were falling. There was a sharp pain in her head, and another developing lower on her body as they settled over the end of the chaise with him lodged firmly between her legs. Mercifully, she passed out.

Romance / Adventure
4.5 4 reviews
Age Rating:

Three Queens.

Life is a chess game, nothing more, nothing less. The goal may be to win, but the longer goal is to enjoy the game and to survive before the final end-of-game that overtakes us all.

The flat roof on the highest part of the girls’ boarding school, was both dirty and hard on the bare feet from the coarse grit in it. At least the tar from the last re-roofing was dry.

Its attraction to the three older girls in their final few weeks of school, was that it was private. They were sisters; triplets; young women, who had emerged from the school below once it got dark, leaving their slippers inside. They were dressed in only their nightdresses and panties.

Rarely was it so dark that it was not safe to go out onto the roof, even at night. There were no biting insects to bother them and there was usually a gentle breeze. They could talk here without fear of being overheard, and they often came out onto the roof when the evening was warm, even though they risked being expelled if they were discovered not to be in their beds.

They were safe from the other girls who did not know how to open the trapdoor that led onto the roof and did not know where they were. Except for Stefanie, their closest friend. She knew, and would cover for them.

It was a secure place to talk, and they always needed to talk about their own plans, which were being brought even closer to fruition as the school-year advanced. They would hear back from the nursing school in another week or two, and learn if they could be admitted now, when school ended, or would have to put in another year at school and catch up on some additional science courses.

They had watched a contractor use a long nail to open the trapdoor from inside the building, and then push the nail back into the woodwork, out of sight under the steps. No one else seemed to know about it and the trapdoor was easy to open from the roof side of it to go back in.

A low plank extended across a few bricks salvaged from one of the chimneys that had been worked on, and they could sit there after they’d hitched their light nightdress up from them, pushing them loosely into the top of their panties, front and back to stop them hanging down onto the rough surface and getting dirty.

They could sit back against the warm brickwork, admire the night sky, look at the moon, or just look around at the dark silhouettes of the tallest trees outlined against the flickering lights of the distant villages and farms.

Their eyes soon got used to the darkness. At those times, sitting close together for comfort if it was a cooler evening, they could hold their hands between their legs for warmth, or even, unobtrusively, slide them into the legs of their panties.

In daylight, it was obvious that they were sisters. But they were more than just sisters; they were identical triplets—Le-an, Olivia, and Sarah, in order of age, eldest first, with a few minutes between each of them.

All had distinctive red hair and green eyes, and all of them were beautiful and maturely built in a way that always attracted attention whenever they went into the village.

They looked alike, they thought alike on most things, they dressed alike. They had to; the mandatory school uniform forced all girls into the same rigid framework, taking away social and class differences as far as clothing could. Despite that, there were obvious differences between them, and the mostly insipid and immature girls in the rest of the upper school.

They, were thinkers and planners.

The world was peaceful and different up here; far different from the hectic boisterousness of the school below.

Their panties protected them from the blemishes and wood splinters on the plank provided they did not fidget, and they had blown dirt off it before they sat down. Panties could be changed if they got dirtied, but their other nightdresses were still in the laundry which would not come back from town until later tomorrow, Saturday.

There was no one to see them or to criticize them, and the evening was warm, though that would soon change. They sometimes brought a small battery-powered radio with them to listen to the weather or the news. Both television and radios were discouraged, except in the common room or lounge where others controlled what could be heard or watched, and only in small doses.

When the weather was warm enough, this was their one escape. It was the only time they could truly be alone in a dormitory full of noisy and excited girls who thought of nothing but boys, and sex, in their mindless, confused ambivalence about them, where most of what they believed was embarrasingly wrong. Here, they could sit in silence away from the other girls, and just appreciate the evening.

Completing their final year, and being the oldest girls in the school, they were in their own, shared, private bedroom, but there was still never enough privacy with other girls forever in and out. There was no such thing as privacy; not like out here.

When they went back in they would have to stand in the bath and wash their feet off before they retired, but they would have to be quiet about it.

They joked that they were like the three Musketeers. ‘All for one, and one for all’, and they had better stick together in this life. The interest of one, was the interest of them all. Sisters rarely knew such unity. Their lives would have been empty without each other, never knowing a time when they had not been together. If they had their way, they would be that way from womb—even as they had started out from the single, fertilized egg—to tomb.

They often rebelled against the uncertainties that lay ahead of them when they would soon be pushed out into that other world. The world of men. Like all girls, they dreamed occasionally of what might be possible in their lives, while allowing them to stay together. Life was full of difficulties for most women when they were sent out to fend for themselves.

Those greater difficulties surfaced and were felt and noticed as soon as they matured, and when men began to notice them; looking at them differently when they went into the village, nudging each other, making personal and embarrassing comments about their changing bodies and what they would like to be doing to them. They were comments that they were meant to overhear, and to possibly respond to in some way, as they walked by.

They knew better than to respond in any way.

Men were always the wildcards, the jokers in their lives, unpredictable and difficult to avoid in most walks of life, except perhaps 'one', and that was the one they had decided upon: nursing.

Could there be three potential partners, suitors, somewhere out there; triplets, like them, suffering the same uncertainties in the same way?

Improbable, and unlikely.

Leaving school for the world outside, was a difficult subject for them to deal with without apprehension. They knew enough of it indirectly from what they overheard almost every night, and after a holiday, when girls came back with stories of some new sexual adventure, or didn’t wish to speak of what they had learned, as it had not been pleasant in any way.

They could not escape from the continual bombardment of talk about men as they sat in the dormitory just before they retired; learning what men usually wanted from any girl, and how some of those girls shamelessly interacted with them, often intimately, letting them do awkward things to them: letting them… be... well, intimate with them. They knew about that, but did not choose to discuss it, and did not like to hear that more vulgar 'f' word to describe that interaction, or use it themselves.

If those silly girls could be believed, there was supposedly something magical, deeply emotionally satisfying about lying in a mans arms, being held tightly, as he looked into your eyes, kissing you, telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you were even as he violated you (f....d you! They could 'think' that word). Romance be damned! Men were liars and wanted only one thing from a woman; to get into her panties and deflower her.

They would probably never know that feeling of being wanted and loved for themselves alone, considering what they envisaged for themselves after leaving school, and soon discarded those difficult thoughts. Men were unpredictable, untrustworthy, and shameless. There were no gentlemen in society any more, and there would never be three such men come along at the same time; one for each of them. That was just a pipe dream, so they resolved to make their plans as though men would never be in their lives.

They rarely discussed men now, having exhausted that topic of conversation before, while getting no closer to knowing what to do if one came along and found one or other of them attractive and interesting. Then what?

To listen to some of those more adventurous and less virtuous girls, men were a walking contradiction, both gods and lust-driven devils. Tender, one moment, savage animals the next.

They decided that it would be better to keep men at a distance and out of their lives if they expected to move forward with their own plans.

They would enter Nursing College together when they left school. After graduation, and when they could afford to do so, they would set up their own private nursing practice. They had decided upon a name already: ’LVS Nursing Care’; almost the initials of their names in order of their birth, though Olivia, the middle girl, had decided that the ‘V’ from her name was better sounding in an acronym, than her first initial.

The nursing school to which they had already applied, was attached to the hospital, as well as to the university in the nearby city, just four miles away.

Like all young women starting out on life, they dreamed of that strange concept of love. They wanted to know love, real love, not just to become a casual love affair for a succession of men, and then be put aside, as men were prone to do, bouncing from one conquest to the next and leaving hapless women in their wakes. Men would be happy to seduce one or all of them, but would not want to be tied down in any way to any of them, and never to three of them at the same time. They’d given up discussing it in the last year. It was too depressing.

However, there was always that unforeseen difficulty that all women and all men had to deal with, growing up, going beyond puberty, and which clouded rationality: raging, runaway hormones. And that other dangerous and unpredictable wildcard; pregnancy! All it needed was a kiss. The wrong kind of kiss between eager parts. And one lucky sperm...?

One of their more naive and unfortunate friends, told by her mother that kissing led to pregnancy, had avoided kissing boys but had become pregnant anyway, not understanding how it could have happened to her. When asked for the details, she freely admitted eventually that, yes, she may not have kissed anyone, but she had been fucked; many times, but so what? What was the harm in that? It was kissing she had been warned against!

Unstated, and short-lived, fortunately, was the nagging, contradictory fear that most women had, at one time or another, about what it would be like if no man found them interesting, though as incomprehensibly discomforting as that thought was, that circumstance would only cause them to hold together better, as they planned on being anyway, but it still nagged at them.

There could be nothing worse for a girl learning of her own confusing sexuality than to be ignored, except to be paid the wrong kind of attention. The uneasy contradiction in those circumstances: ignored... not ignored, was not lost upon them.

There were two ways out of this dilemma for a woman: an arranged marriage, or the convent. Or... unthinkable... spinsterhood.

In the old-days, marriages were arranged by the parents, usually at the birth of their offspring. Such marriages were often disasters in themselves but were still generally better than the alternative; of dying alone, and an embittered old spinster.

Other women joined a convent, seeking the easy way out of life’s difficult decisions, foreswearing any association with men as far as it was possible to do to avoid those kinds of emotional problems and entanglements, but from what they’d read, even a convent might not be safe for a young woman, or an old one. Even in there, there would be no avoiding the predations of men.

In earlier times it had been a refuge for desperate women, in need of food, clothing and shelter. Giving of themselves, their minds, and their bodies too, was a small and fleeting price to pay to get fed, and to be warm and dry. Men were everywhere, always seeking their favors, their bodies. There could be no escape!

It was a touchy and sensitive subject, opening up too much to strident accusations, denials, and open antagonism that they might dare to believe that convents were once little better than brothels, and that the women were once pimped by the church. But they had been.

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