Getting the Decorators In

Author's note: All characters are eighteen or over.

Tina and I were eleven when we started at St Edwina's. Seven years on we were still friends but no longer little girls. Almost overnight we were big-boobed, leggy and curvy-arsed. Tina lost her virginity first, and mine quickly followed. Since turning eighteen we'd been pretty wild but always went our own ways when it came to sex. That changed during our last summer at the school, and a week before exams. You see, that's when the decorators were with us.

The headmaster and Miss S— were the two people we least wanted to bump into as we tottered in our strappy, wedge-heeled sandals on our way to the assembly hall that memorable morning. Everyone was in classes and the corridors had been empty until Mr B— appeared outside his office doorway. He didn't call us over, just stared. Slim and sleek in his business suit, and not usually seen about much except at morning assemblies, he was an unsettling apparition. We kept moving; I was carrying the tray of drinks, Tina the biscuits. I looked the other way while she smiled at him, the picture of innocence in her blond pigtails—and, as the boys at the college across the road knew, she was anything but innocent. Mr B— backed into his office and closed the door.

'Typical man,' she said, unperturbed. 'See him getting an eyeful?'

Understandable really, for in being ever so good in our old school uniforms we were being ever so bad. A relaxed regime for girls in their final two years at St Edwina's Girls' College, a please-yourself dress code, but within reason as we were expected to set an example to the younger ones. Tina and I had worn jeans, sweatshirts and other casual stuff like the rest of our year but the other day Wilf, one of the decorators, had wondered aloud what we looked like in school uniform. Wondering ourselves the previous evening; in my bedroom we'd giggled as we squeezed into gear we'd grown out of a couple of years back.

'This stuff's cutting off my circulation,' I complained, with the doors to the assembly hall in sight. We'd got into our uniforms in the sports hall changing room before preparing the decorators' drinks in the senior girls' common room kitchenette. Our buttoned white cotton shirts were the problem—and more for me than Tina. My boobs, large, high and round, pressed out tightly against the cotton and there wasn't much "give" left for breathing. This was the only time I've ever thought having bigger ones wasn't all about fun and games. Tina's only slightly less substantial up top, but makes up for it with the perkiest pink nipples. The plaid skirts were constricting too. And we'd cut several inches off the hems, just to help things along with the decorators you understand. A hand's width of bare flesh over the tops of Tina's thigh-high red-and-white striped socks. As for me, well my legs are long and well-shaped and don't need any help from socks or tights. I have the edge looks-wise, though valuing our friendship I never say as much.

With Mr B— out of the way, it was tough luck Miss S— coming out of the staffroom and cornering us. She's hard-faced, her grey hair in a mannish cut, not a womanly roundness on her anywhere. Our skirts were a bit on the short-side, weren't they? And where were we going with the drinks and biscuits?

'They're for the decorators,' I said, flushing a little. She gestured for us to continue, followed and waited outside as we went in. As the double doors closed behind, the guys' greetings rebounded off the high walls they'd been painting an off-white. They held their wet paint brushes like weapons, their biceps bulging. White teeth in cheesy grins. They all wore paint-stained white bib-and-brace overalls. We'd taken mugs of tea out to them the day before when they'd been having their lunches in the white van parked at the edge of the schoolyard.

'Good to see you, girls,' Wilf said. He was my favourite, the oldest at twenty-seven, and as fit as fuck. He was the gaffer, but a pretty laid-back boss, it seemed to me. He had long Jesus-hair and light stubble, brown eyes that wickedly twinkled "sex".

They laid down their brushes and sat on plastic stack chairs. Waiting to be served, they took in our legs, our plaid-clad curves. We smiled like air hostesses and bent from the waist to place tea mugs and the biscuits on a low folding table. Sustaining my deep bend, I felt gazes enter the unbuttoned top third of my white cotton shirt like guided missiles to impact on the hanging juicy fruit of my boobs. Tina stood perilously close to Piers who had virtually no choice but to see where the hem of her skirt aligned with the under-swells of her buttocks. He tucked back a strand of blond hair behind a ringed ear, an almost feminine motion in contrast to maleness of everything else about him.

'Don't they look cool, guys?' he said, his lips moist as he slurped tea.

'Cool and hot,' Markey said. I let out a giggle as Markey's tea steamed-up his designer glasses. He was darker than the others, dapper in his gear, his arms toned. Jack was the youngest and the tallest, his eyes round and baby-blue. Mesmerised by our blatant display, his mug of tea was tipping.

'You're spilling, Jack,' Wilf said, with a mock-sorrowful shake of his head.

'Shit,' Jack said, a dimple of annoyance in his cheek as he looked down at the wet patch on his crotch. We all laughed. Aftershave and an exciting sweaty musk was coming through the heady tang of fresh paint.

'Looks like you've nearly finished,' I said, with a glance at the walls.

'Like you're interested,' Wilf said with a laugh. He was so right. During previous all-too-brief encounters we'd made it clear it wasn't their brush-strokes we were interested in. We'd enjoyed liaisons with several choice specimens from the boys' school opposite, but Wilf and his crew were a different proposition. Real men, all in their twenties but for Jack, only a matter of weeks away.

The door opened and Miss S— appeared, arms folded, tight-lipped.

'We were wandering if you wanted something at lunchtime?' I kept my voice low. She was at far end of the hall but probably had bat-sensitive ears. 'Or have you brought packed lunches?' I took in the well-packed crotches of their paint-spattered work pants and they splayed their legs that bit wider.

Tina sniggered and the boys exchanged looks between them. '"Something" sounds good,' Piers murmured. Miss S— tipped up her chin sternly, said in a sing-song tone, 'Come on, girls.'

'We were thinking of going to the pub,' Wilf said, 'But we might stay here if you keep us company.'

Tina and I put on sexy hip-swings as we headed for the door. It felt good to annoy Miss S— who viewed us with gimlet eyes and could do nothing. Leaving school soon, adults for God's sake—and looking it. The gazes raking up the backs of my legs to my arse felt even better. By the time we got to the school library we were nearly doubled over and stifling mad laughter. Girls revising at tables looked over their books at us disapprovingly. We sat at an empty carrel.

'So, Amy, if you had to choose,' Tina said. 'Which one?'

'They've all got something special—and we've not even seen the best bits yet,' I said, feeling a prickling in my nipples. Wilf, I admitted eventually.

'I like Piers and Jack,' she said.

'Yes, but if you had to pick one.'

'Why pick one when I can have two?' Tina said, and she had a point, though if you followed that logic three was even better—four better still. Still, four for me would mean none for Tina. This wasn't going to be a competition, I had to remind myself.

We were too hyped-up to concentrate on revision for exams next week and time dragged. At last, with midday in sight, we stood and checked our makeup and hair in our compact mirrors. Trying to compose ourselves, we left the library five minutes before the bell was due to go off for lunch hour.

Second time around we were lucky, no Miss S— or Mr B— lurking as we went through the entrance foyer to the assembly hall. We burst in and the doors knocked together behind us.

The chairs had been moved and the boys were sitting on the floor in a small enclave they'd constructed from white dustsheets draped over four long tables, the upright piano and an aluminium stepladder. Anyone looking through the glass panels set into the double-doors or standing in the schoolyard on the other side of big windows lining one side of the hall would have no inkling of any mischief in here. Only the plaster bust of St Edwina, high on her plinth by the stage, would see what we got up to. Over the hard wood flooring, more dustsheets made for a smooth white carpet which wouldn't be so smooth by the end of the hour. Our gazes gravitated to the guys' crotches. Hard wood—we weren't going to go short of that in the next hour.

Wilf was on his back, propped up on his elbows, his legs stretched out in an unapologetic V. Markey and Jack were sitting, cross-legged. Piers knelt, thumbs in his belt, fingers splayed towards his promising bulge. Unlike the others, he wore no shirt under his overalls and could show off his well-muscled shoulders and the outer edges of his pecs.

Wilf said, 'Jack,' and jerked his head towards the double doors. Jack left us. 'Take a seat, girls.' Wilf and Markey patted a small space between them and I sat. Comfier than I'd expected. Thinking ahead, the boys had put rubber gym mats under the dustsheets. Tina got down by Piers. Sitting made our skimpy skirts shrink up towards our waists. The guys swallowed and licked their lips at the expanse of bare skin between our wedge heels and our generous curves. Wilf let out a low whistle.

Through a gap between two sheets I saw Jack wedge a chair under the handles of the double doors, then cover the glass panels with a paint-stained rag and secure it in place with nails he lightly tapped in with a hammer. My heart was tapping too, especially when the lunch hour bell sounded. Classrooms emptied and there was a tumult of footsteps and light chattering voices as girls surged into the dining room and out into the playground. Though we could talk normally with little chance of being overheard, Wilf turned up the volume on a digital radio which all week had been pumping out rock music while they worked.

Piers handed me and Tina a beer bottle each. 'This'd be perfect with a smoke,' he said. Obvious, what he meant by "smoke". He was kind of hippyish with his pony tail and lean frame. Smirks of agreement from the others, including Jack who had returned.

I caught Tina's gaze and we exchanged a silent communication. Though we didn't need alcohol or pot to get us in the mood, we tipped back our bottles, Tina a little too enthusiastically. She choked and spluttered, her face reddening. Piers grinned and whacked her on the back until she recovered. Feeling happy and horny I stretched out my legs and felt rough patches on the dustsheet beneath me and idly wondered if any of them weren't so much dried paint as old cum-stains. I wouldn't put it past these guys to have taken time out from previous jobs to get frisky with other girls on these sheets.

We chatted and drank over ten minutes or so, the atmosphere getting heavier. We all wanted action not words. The walls gleamed faintly a creamy off-white, prompting from Tina a typically off-colour remark which broke an extended silence taken up by the boys checking out our bodies and vice versa.

'Hey, Amy, like the pearly-white colour scheme—what does it remind you of?'

Tina's like a big kid sometimes, but I couldn't help smirking and the guys looked at each other and grinned like cats about to get the cream. Thinking of the prospect of 'cream' heading our way, my and Tina's smiles were even more justified.

'Wish there'd been girls like you when I was at school,' Wilf said with a look that thrilled through me.

'Bloody hell, that's a while ago,' Jack said, and I guessed he'd been given licence to say such things.

'Twenty-seven and in my prime,' Wilf said. Prime beef in the tightness of his pants meant I was going to be filled as well as thrilled.

'What d'you mean, "girls like us"?' I said. 'We're sexually liberated, that's all.'

I wasn't sure he'd been listening as he took evident pleasure running his fingers through my long hair, the same copper colour, he would soon discover, as the neatly trimmed landing strip concealed in my panties and designed for incoming aircraft to aim for. A significant moment, Markey setting aside his glasses, then he and Wilf were unlacing their trainers and pulling them off along with their socks.

'I'm more your age,' Jack said, edging closer to Tina, peering down the dark cleft between her bra-less tits. She'd undone the top three or four buttons of her shirt and Jack was delicately pulling the material apart at each side and exposing more of her. On her other side, Piers prised off her wedge sandals and peeled her striped socks down to her knees. 'Hey, what's this?'

Twin tattoos of blue-green wavy snakes on the inner surface of each thigh pointed in the direction many a straighter length had headed lately. She parted her legs and Piers got a better look; he traced a finger up one green-blue serpent, lingered at the damp gusset of her panties, then traced down the other. All four guys were looking though I wasn't convinced it was the tattoos which fascinated them. Even so, I resolved to get one or two for myself, and soon. For now, I didn't doubt that once these hunks had clapped eyes on my bare curves the absence of tattoos would be neither here nor there.

Piers was going to get naked first though. He was in a hell of a hurry shrugging off his bib-and-brace overalls and Tina's and my eyes fed hungrily on hard abs and chest muscle, dusted with fine golden hairs. Not to be outdone, Jack shook off the top half of his overalls. His body looked waxed, his muscles nicely defined and he flexed them for Tina's and my delectation. Removing their trainers was a sure sign that their work pants were next for casting off.

Wilf had paint-stained cloths in a plastic bag which he put down behind me. He placed a finger against my collar bone and pushed. I acquiesced, lying back passively with my head on the makeshift pillow. He began to strip down and I liked what I saw from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist. A slender gold chain glinted against the thin coating of dark hair on his rounded pecs; a trail of hair went down the central groove of his abs. Markey had pulled off his tee-shirt; he was smooth, his torso not quite as V-shaped as Wilf's. Both guys got down and lay on their sides facing me, their heads propped on the palms of their hands, gazes roving over me from head to foot, lingering at the spread of my hips which their bulging crotches nudged against. And that seemed to be as far as they wanted to go. For the moment at least their tight trousers and my tiny skirt weren't coming off. With avuncular smiles they looked across to the other three. I wasn't here for "avuncular" but I looked across too.

Tina and Piers leant against the back of the upright piano. He had his arm around her and their faces were up close, tongues touching. Jack took her chin and turned her to face him. He popped the final two buttons of her shirt and there was an intake of breaths as she thrust out her boobs. Piers and Jack got to work on them with their fingers.

Tina was ahead of me. My guys needed get a move on.

'Hey you two,' I said, stamping my wedge sandal heels down hard.

'No worries, Amy,' Wilf said, in a gently chastising tone.

'Yeah,' Markey added, 'We like to take things real slow.'

'I can see that,' I said tersely. 'There's less than an hour, then Tina and I have got a class to go to.'

Wilf's strong hand skated beneath my skirt belt, into the tiny scrap of silk that comprised my panties. 'Mmmm,' I said at the sweet sensation as his middle finger slipped under the hood of my clit and lingered there. Markey undid the remaining buttons of my shirt save for one that looked on the point of unbuttoning itself under the pressure of my rapidly heaving tits. Wilf's finger went lower and I gasped as it played an inch between my sticky lips.

He spared the younger guys a pitying glance, said, 'Those two'll be over in five minutes.'

'Oh yeah?' Piers and Jack crowed back. Never mind those two, I thought, longing for a bigger invader than Wilf's finger.

Piers and Jack had Tina onto her back, her head on a pillow of flattened cardboard boxes, and they were delivering little pecks to her cheeks and neck. Her firm tits were defying gravity, the boys' fingers making her nipples a whole lot perkier.

I closed my eyes as Wilf stretched my tie sideways from my neck. The last button gave up the struggle and the halves of my shirt shot back to each side as if on elastic. Breathing hard, Wilf undid the front clasp of my lacy black bra and both guys, their faces full of greedy concentration, unpacked my big rounded boobs. Just a few squeezes and their hot breaths before they drew back a little to let me squirm my shoulders out of my shirt and bra, the effort making my tits bounce and wobble while the boys' eyes took them in, their tongues ready in their open mouths. My gear cast aside, they were onto me. I cradled their heads, fingers raking into their hair, moaning under the onslaught of their nipping teeth, their hot wet tongues mercilessly wrapping and unwrapping round my stiff nipples and sending bolts of pleasure, like two hot wires, right down to my pussy.

Things were heating up for the other three too. The pressure exerted on each side by Tina's lovers forced her tits up high. She lifted her bottom and Piers smartly tugged her skimpy skirt down to her ankles and off, then Jack did the same with her panties. He whirled them around his head, let go and they flew in a trajectory straight onto the plaster bust of St Edwina by the stage, conveniently blindfolding her. Tina's cheer was abruptly cut off by the sight of Piers yanking down his work pants. She stared fixedly at the distinct outline of his cock, bent horizontally towards his hip in his ruckled old-fashioned speedos—that was until Jack went one better, yanking his work pants and boxer shorts down and off in one go. He looked around, triumphant at being the first to get completely naked. Piers was the second, once Tina had tugged his speedos down his athletic thighs and off. We saw what he was made of, too.

At last, I thought. Two big pieces of beef, out in the open and ready for action. And wearing just her school tie and striped socks, Tina looked more than ready for them. Jack's was thick and long, Pier's just as long and with a pronounced curve out and in towards his navel.

I looked at my guys expectantly, but they were too busy plastering my quivering tits with saliva to notice their workmates were as bare as the day they were born. Too many layers of fabric between my pussy and cocks three and four—and I couldn't even reach to their zippers. Don't get me wrong, I could have handled minutes more of their tongues swirling over my tits, but the craving in my cunt for some honest-to-goodness male meat was overwhelming.

I don't think the boys noticed me thrusting up my hips, getting my thumbs into the belt-loops of my skirt and tugging down as far as my arms could reach. I got an opportunity to push things further when Wilf, then Markey, started licking up towards my neck, then my earlobes, then began digging their fingers into my glossy coppery hair, turning my face one way then the other for kisses. As they moved up my body another two or three inches, I realised we were thinking along the same lines. You see, their zippers were no longer out of reach of my restless fingers.

Moving my hands outwards, I drew down one zipper followed by the other. With appreciative murmurs encouraging me to explore further, my fingers slithered into their white trousers and on into gratifyingly skimpy briefs where their hot hard dicks twitched against the delicate touch of my fingertips, then burgeoned mightily as I got two fistfuls.