A girl in the fifth form had attacked a classmate with a craft knife because she had dated her boyfriend. The attack took place outside school but was dealt with inside it. The whole school was assembled and the girl was marched up onto the stage. The Head Mistress in her full academicals, an awesome sight, told us of the terrible events which had taken place outside the school gates, the previous afternoon. The victim, luckily had escaped permanent scarring and her parents had most generously declined to insist that the police were involved providing that the girl who had attacked their daughter was severely thrashed.The girl stood there, white faced, between two mistresses and a school chair was brought onto the platform by a prefect. The girl was ordered to bend over and place her hands on the seat of the chair. Her skirt was raised and pulled up over her back. Her knickers were pulled down to her knees. In this position, the HM told her how lucky she was that she was being. So I went downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge and had just settled down in front of the TV, when my phone rang. It was Suzanne.“Oh, hi Suzanne! Are you OK?”“No, I’m not, Mr. B.” Her voice was sobbing. “Could you come over for a moment?”“Sure. I’ll be right there.”My cock reacted faster than my brain. It was already trying to break through my zipper while my brain was struggling to figure out what she wanted me for. Perhaps she needed to hug me again and I’d get to hold her tit. Even if she’d put her little bikini bra back on, it wouldn’t take much to push the tiny triangle of cloth to one side and roll her nipple between my fingers.I stumbled out the side door of my house, my mind blazing, managed to clear the picket fence and headed towards Suzanne’s pool, trying to adjust the bulge in my pants as I went. There she was, leaning way back in a wicker chair with her legs spread wide, whacking away at her snatch. She wasn’t sobbing now; she was panting.“Mr. B. Are you still young.
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