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April Fool’s Diary – King Dong and the Dongettes

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11 May 202110 May 2021In all my years as a sullen, mood-swingy, hormonal, pubescent I had never had to visit the Headmaster’s Office so I didn’t know whether to be excited or anxious. But I’m a perky, pokie, positive, post-pubescent in search of adventures and not someone who looks gift horses in their mouths. Besides I’m a consumer adult now, so I sashayed my way along the school corridors in my absolutely stunning, conspicuous adult, school uniform, a vision of jiggly breasticules, swaying buttocks, glinting tushy jewellery and sodden cuntedness. As I said, I’d never been to the Headmaster’s Office before and I’d imagined something grander, maybe with wood panelling and chandeliers and a mahogany desk and a chaise longue covered in velveteen throws and stacked high with cushions and perhaps with an owl on a perch or portraits that talked and suchlike. So it was really disappointing to discover that it looked just like every other room in the school with its peeling grey/green institutional paintwork and grime smeared kaçak iddaa windows. It sucked. And the suckiest thing of all the suckiest things in that room was Ms Harridan, with her skanky cardigan, milk-curdling face, and her ‘hamster cage after you haven’t cleaned it out for two weeks’ breath. So I was really pleased when Headmaster Crotchety invited me into his private office. Which was just as sucky as the other room but let’s not go through all that again. But none of it was as sucky as Headmaster Crotchety who not only didn’t offer me a seat but just went on and on about uniforms and standards and bitch-whores and nubile teen temptresses and enlarged members and Mr Carpenter wanking in the staff loos as if I hadn’t had to stand and listen to Miss Crossface say exactly the same things. Rather than listening, I was busy trying to push the remote control, vibrating, princess plug out of my tushy before sucking it back in again which was much more fun than listening to all those spewy, boring words. Yet he just kept talking; kaçak bahis words, words and yet more words; government pilot, horny harlot, victorian values, legal lolita, decorum and discipline, over-sexed strumpet, corporal punishment, bubble-headed bimbo, staff room now, prick-teaser, public humiliation, and the more he talked the more my twitchy fingers absent-mindedly stroked through my sodden-cuntedness. Blabbedy-blab-blab, stroke, swirl, caress, blabbedy-blab-blab, flick, dip, thrust, and pretty soon all I could really hear was the yummy squelching of my sodden-cuntedness. So it was a bit of a shock when Headmaster Crotchety’s wrinkled, hairy, man-hand slapped hard against my gorgeously, squidgy, rounded, botty-cheek. What the actual fuck? And again on my other, perfectly innocent, cheek of wiggle-flesh. And then he pushed me out of the room, hand smacking at my exposed buttocks, driving me before him, a firm whack at each step, tremors rippling through my arse to my thighs and the twinging, throbbing, heated, illegal bahis shower nozzle hidden between them. Now I may have mastered and mistressed the twin arts of standing up and walking in five-inch, spiky-spiked, killer heels, but even for a perky, pokie, sodden-cunted, teen-angel with stinging-bee lips, wiggling and hippy-swaying whilst having your tushy swatted at every step was a challenge. And before you could say ‘inevitable punishment scene of delinquent teenager approaching’, I found myself being pushed through a door and into a packed staff room. And who would of guessed the school had that many staff? The next thing I knew I was bent at the waist, face down, over a large table and my pleated, flicky, micro mini-skirt would have been pulled up around my waist if it wasn’t there already, and my panties would have been down around my ankles though fortunately, I wasn’t wearing any, and my swollen, engorged, nublets of pleasure were rubbing themselves across the rough wooden surface, and I was thinking that Mr Carpenter wouldn’t have been happy with the sanding finish on it, but then I remembered I was a girl and girls did Domestic Science and weren’t allowed in the mad, bad, crazy, dangerous world of Woodworking. 

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