The nuns looked after the convent themselves….of course…not even the priests got inside The Virgin’s Retreat. True, they said mass in the chapel, but that had its own vestry, and the Mother Superior gave him a cup of pretty rank coffee in there after mass….maybe. She wasn’t known for her generosity of spirit.
But the school had a male caretaker….and….I never thought for a second! Mr. James was just, Well, Mr. James. Fixer of everything from the central heating to blackboards falling off walls. Keeper of about a million light bulbs, polisher of floors, and cleaner of windows.
Young teenage girls are generally hopeless at pitching ages of anyone. You’re either a teenager yourself, or you’re ‘old’. Opinion varied on Mr. James. I would have pitched him at 50, but some girls said he was at least 65. Very few though he was younger than 40, so I think my guesstimate was about right.
And only today - after reading a brief contribution about jerking in the school restroom did it strike me that Mr James had the run of the entire school from the classsrooms to the locker room, to the restrooms. He was surrounded by pubertal girls all day, every day. He would have found items of intimate femininity from lost panties in the locker room, to discarded ones in the trash cans in the restrooms.
Should he be that way inclined, there was also the sanitary bins as well. Not many of us used them, preferring to flush rather than wrap a sanitary pad in those idiotic little paper bags and then place It in a ‘special’ bin. But it wasn’t just the produce of periods that ended up on panty-liners. Some girls - I could name five right now - wore panty liners purely because they were constantly wet. They…well…I don’t know where they ended up, but those fucking bins that only opened a tiny way were always yucky to touch. Not many of us wanted to get heaven knows what on our fingers, so it wasn’t unusual to find panty liners (rather than sanitary pads) in the normal bin. We were constantly lectured in assembly about the “appropriate use of bins”. It is well known that a nun will spontaneously combust if she says words like “periods” “vagina” “tampon” (invention of the Devil, since it leads, girls, to….touching!) so whomsoever was leading the assembly would tie themselves in knots trying to tell us off but without using words that inevitably led to the vagina.
“Girls…now…when you…When it’s….that is to say during….well, we all know the consequences of the sin of Eve, and I’m not talking about the pain of childbirth yet, no, I’m talking about the other consequence of Eve’s infidelity to Our Lord, well, when…..that…happens, you mustn’t use…er….well you know we have special receptacles for…..special uses when you need to change…..things. Please use the right one!” Honestly it was hilarious! She also had the habit of making “Our Lord” sound like ‘Arnold”. Oh bugger…I’m wandering off the point again.
But back to Mr. James. Now, time to fess up. I have absolutely nothing to suggest that he was anything other than a complete gentleman - only one thing stands out in my mind. You have to remember that getting changed for PE wasn’t a leisurely girly chat time. We had precisely 2 minutes to go from the full-ok Catholic schoolgirl uniform to our PE kit. It was a crazy mad scramble from the moment that whistle blew. Clothes went everywhere. Similarly, we had two minutes in the shower before those bitch nuns turned the hot water off and the cold water up full, and then another two minutes which included drying time. It wasn’t uncommon to lose items of clothing.
The thing is, whatever was lost under benches always found it’s way back. Everything was labelled of course including bras and panties. Lost items were placed in paper bags with our names on and returned to us….
….which meant Mr. James knew exactly whose bra or panties he found in the locker room…and he knew us all by sight and name too. Had he been of the disposition, he would have been able to picture the girl whose panties he was wanking over.
When this realisation dawned on me…today…I remembered the number of times I’d lost things in there….I was one of the ‘always wet’ girls but I refused to wear a panty liner - fuck that. My panties were, therefore constantly creamy. I do so hope he used mine as well as found mine.
An image formed.
Mr James, in that hot, sweaty locker room. A pair of girls panties in his hand and his cock out. He stands there masturbating slowly even though he’s fully hard. He’s thinking of the girl who owns these and wishes he could see her in this room naked. He smells her and his cock twitches in response. He wonders how often she touches herself…after all, Mr.James knows what dirty little minxes we are. He moves slightly nearer the bench under which he found the panties. He knows we all have favourite pegs. The shy girls always hide near the back, while the more precocious girls like to be at the front, where other girls have to push past them naked from the showers. He inhales again and his semen erupts from him over the bench. He stares down at it and realises that it looks like hair conditioner. He gives it only a cursory wipe with the panties. Getting semen on Lesley’s panties is a rush in itself. Leaving some on a bench where a girl will sit is another. He smiles to himself and continues on his way. Who knows what else he will find today?
Another thought occurs.
Mr. James is the go-to for anything computer-related….not that the school has a lot of IT equipment, and what it has is old and donated. There is a ‘server’ of sorts, and a rudimentary network, and Mr. Jones knows enough to keep it going. One day, he goes to the Mother superior and tells her that he really should install ‘smoke and heat detectors’ in places where “….those girls like to have an illegal cigarette.” Mother Superior jumps at the chance to find reason to cane the girls so she agrees. Mr. James installs little white boxes in the restrooms and the locker room. True, they do detect nest and smoke, but they also have a little camera. Mr James has them hooked up to his phone. Over the next few weeks, he does indeed catch some girls smoking - enough to keep Mother S’s panties wet from caning girls, but he has gained far more footage of girls on the lavatory, or naked in the locker room. He even has managed, purely by luck, to find images of girls playing with themselves.
As I said, I have no evidence Mr. Jones did any of this….but oh…..if he had……!
I think the temptation must be enormous for anyone working in a (mainly) all-girls school. We are voluble, the topic of,our conversation is rarely lady-like, and believe me, when those hormones strike…..oh dear….we certainly feel them.
God has a sense of humour - there can be no doubt about that. “Here, girls” he may have said “I’m going to give you a hole that feels tremendous when filled with a man’s dick, BUT, I’m going to partially cover it with a flap of skin that will hurt and bleed when you first have sex. Oh, and it will make using even the thinnest of tampons difficult. I’m also,going,to design this hole, this tube so that it’s too small for a baby to come out. You can thank Eve for that. You will, in effect, be passing something the size of a melon through an opening designed to accommodate a lemon. Ah well….see you. Have a nice life.”
On top of that, he makes us horny as fuck!
Oh well….
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