Assessing that it was indeed empty I slipped my hands around my back and unclasped my bra, revelling in the sensation of my full, warm breasts against...the crushed silk of my singlet, the feel of the shiny fabric against my taught nipples, the ability of my hand to surround them entirely. I stood like that for some time, cupping my breasts, playing with them, building the fire in my belly, teasing myself, testing my will power, all with the unbearable ache in my pussy growing steadily, admiring. The only thing I’ve forgotten is her name.I was walking across the park on my way back from school when I saw her ahead of me and caught up with her, not deliberately, I was just walking faster. She was in her school uniform: white blouse, necktie, grey pleated skirt and white knee socks, the allowed alternative to tights. At that age any reasonably attractive girl was a sex object. School regulations said girls’ skirts must be no more than a couple of inches above the knee, but like most girls. More

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