One Thursday evening it was absolutely sheeting down rain with most people sheltering under umbrellas and dashing to avoid getting soaked. My position...was just behind the main reception desk, the entrance large swinging doors which was locked at 10:30 pm. You could still get in the door, but no further. The client had installed a camera overhead so I could move on any dossers or junkies that might take shelter, purely down to me to leave them alone or move them on. This evening about 11:45 not. Like, really. She had just gotten up in front of the whole class and embarrassed the fuck out of me with some over-emotional poem. God, the silence in the classroom was excruciating. Luella walked back to her seat slowly, while the awkward atmosphere bit into me. The teacher was staring at me somewhat accusingly, and then shook her head and continued with the class. I hated english for this very reason - creativeness led to our personal, hormone-filled teenaged lives, and this was never a good. When Florence wore it, her black bush and swollen pussy lips were quite visible. When I wore it, my hard cock was shadowed, but it was quite obviously a cock. And best of all, it felt incredibly good and so sexy.Underneath her slip she would be wearing a garter belt, silky stockings, and pair of nylon panties (again pink, and no cotton gusset). She would perch on the edge of a chair, sofa, or her bed and spread her legs. I would walk between her legs, up to her crotch. The top of her slip. “It feels like I sat on a stove.” “What hurt, Julie?” Knowing she had lost this fight, Julie said, nice and loud, “My spanking hurt me, Miss Anderson, it was very hard.” “Who spanked your naughty bottom, Julie?” “Dean Perkins did it, Miss Anderson, my butt really stings and is very sore.” The chorus sang out, “My butt really stings and is very sore.” “And where did Dean Perkins spank you, Silly girl?” “On my bare butt, Miss Anderson. Is my spanking over, Miss Anderson?” “Not quite,.