Camilla's Knickers



I have the perfect job.

"Knickers", for those of you unfortunate enough to live outside the United Kingdom, are what the rest of the world call panties. "Knickers" is almost a slang word. If you buy a three-pack from Marks and Spenser, it will say "panties" on the package, but almost everyone calls them knickers. The word has a slightly naughty connotation, for example, schoolboys will say to little girls, "Show us your knickers", or a drunk might yell, "Get yer knickers off!" to a stripper but respectable people call them panties, undies, briefs or some such innocuous term. The word underpants is only used to describe mens' and boys' underwear. I've always loved knickers. Ever since I was seven or eight years old, when I used to watch girls in the school playground doing cartwheels and handstands, showing off their knickers, I've been obsessed.

I really love my job. I'm a janitor at a girls` school. This means I get to spend seven hours a day in the vicinity of young girls. O.K., I think you get the picture. I'm a pervert, into little kids, boys and girls. Look, I'm not a predator and I don't molest youngsters and I'd never do anything to embarrass a child. Some might say I belong in jail, where I would share a cell with a muscular black dude with an enormous dick, an idea which has an appeal of its own. Fair enough, but I'm pretty careful how I conduct myself.

The day school where I work, in a suburb of London, is partly private, partly state subsidized, so they're mostly posh kids from `good' families, if you'll pardon my snobishness. There are actually two schools, the seniors, aged 11 to 18, in a huge converted mansion with some add-ons, a science block and a few portakabins, and then there's the junior school, ages 5 to 11, in a smaller old house. Between the two schools is a small playing field with a lot of bald patches and some trees scattered around the edge. My apartment is on the ground floor of the junior school. It's a live in job, because I'm up at six o'clock to unlock the classrooms, and I'm responsible for security. I have a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom and my own entrance.

. My bedroom window looks out over the playground of the junior school. I used to wish that the seniors played there and I'll tell you why. At the far end of the playground is a set of monkey bars which the kids climb on, but it's too far away to see much, though the younger kids like it and sometimes I'll get a brief flash of knickers. But the big attraction, only about 20 feet from my window, is a horizontal bar, about 7 feet up in the air, supported on two stout posts. A few of the juniors, mostly from the top junior form (a form, for you Yanks is a class) like to hang and swing from this, with spectacular results. I should mention that all the girls wear the school uniform, a navy blue skirt and white blouse, with the younger ones in white knee socks. They're supposed to wear navy blue knickers, but few do, thank God.

Now let me tell you about Camilla. Until I first saw her, my obsession with schoolgirls and their knickers was limited to the age range of about 12 to 14, namely those girls at the age of puberty, just blossoming into women. But after I saw Camilla, I suddenly lowered the range by a year or so.

I had just quit my last job, for reasons that I'll get to, and started this job in April, just as the summer term was starting, and in just the first week, I struck gold. During my l lunch break, I was in my apartment, and I happened to go into my bedroom. Looking out of the window I saw the girl who was to almost drive me crazy. She was standing under the horizontal bar with her back to me. She had long blonde hair almost down to her waist and that skinny boyish figure that eleven-year-olds have. She raised her arms, jumped up and grabbed the bar, hanging there for a second. Then she swung her legs up and hooked her knees over the bar. This is easier than it sounds, because I've tried it. No strength required, you just have to get your knees and legs between your arms and get your centre of gravity above your shoulders, then you straighten your legs, bend your arms, hook your knees over and there you are.

She let go of the bar and let her body fall, so she was hanging upside down. Of course you know what happened. Her skirt fell, showing off her legs, her knickers and part of her midriff. Oh, what bliss! Such erotic beauty not 20 feet from where I stood, peeping through the small gap between my curtains, safely hidden. White cotton knickers, full cut, which reached almost to her belly button. I was in heaven! I was close enough to see the scalloped elastic round the leg and the texture of the cotton. Together with her white socks, this was about as sexy a sight as I'd ever seen. Even though her face was upside down, I could tell she was stunningly beautiful, huge blue eyes and perfect skin. My dick became rigid, but I didn't want to jerk off until the show was over.

After a few seconds, she reached up, grabbed the bar again, unhooked her knees and dropped to the ground. A brief but unforgettable show. Then, happily, she did it all over again. For the next twenty minutes or so she repeated the same manoeuver as I stood transfixed. She was, of course, totally unaware that anyone was watching her. Then the bell rang and she went back inside with all the other kids.

The next day, at the same time, and every school day for the rest of the summer term, I was at my post. She never tired of her little exercise, doing the same thing over and over. I couldn't figure out why she kept it up so relentlessly, but I loved every minute of it.

Sometimes other girls would try the same thing. A lot failed, thinking it took muscle rather than knack, but some would succeed, and hang like sexy little bats. Alas, most of these had on the hated navy blue knickers, which did nothing for me. They have to be white. The girl can be black, and white knickers on black skin look phenomenal.

I used the rest of each of my working days as productively as I could, that is, chatting with as many pupils as I could get away with. Fraternisation was strictly forbidden, so I had to be careful, but I got to know the names of a lot of girls and became quite friendly with some of them. They soon learned that I would overlook any minor breaches of discipline, smoking and such, and I became known as a guy you could trust. If you were a kid, that is.

Then came the school holidays. Six miserable weeks, with no girls to look at.

Next term, in September, Camilla would move up to the senior school. Sure, I would see her again, but not hanging upside down showing off her knickers to the world. Would life ever be the same again?

* * *

Let me digress for a minute and tell you about how I lost my previous job. I was the janitor at a boys' boarding school on the other side of London. This, too, was a live-in job. I had my own room in the basement and I ate my meals in the school kitchen. Some of those boys were so fucking sexy. At 13 or 14, past puberty but still boyish looking, they were irresistible. I befriended many of them, flouting the no-fraternisation rule, but an actual sexual encounter seemed out of the question, far too dangerous. There was little opportunity to be alone with a boy for more than a few minutes. One day I came into the boys' bathroom and caught two young lads wanking each other off. I said, "Excuse me," and added, "Please carry on," before backing out of the room.

But one day I was standing in the passage outside my room. The only reason a boy would be in this basement passage would be to visit a storeroom at the end which contained sports equipment, footballs, cricket paraphernalia etc. Along came Phillip, a boy I knew well, an habitual smoker, who had occasionally bummed a cigarette off me. He was unbelievably cute, blonde with his hair always falling over his forehead, carrying a bunch of cricket bats and a bag of balls. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Wanna smoke?" I asked as he went by.

"Just let my get rid of this stuff. I'll be right back."

Seconds later, he was back, but by now I was standing just inside my room with the door open. I pulled out my packet of fags (cigarettes to you Yanks) and pulled one out. He stepped into the room, and I lit his fag from my own. I reached past him and locked the door. We sat down on the bed as he took a grateful drag.

"Thanks, Tony," he said, (all the kids called my by my first name), "I really needed that. Listen, it may be none of my business, but you need to be careful. People are talking about you."

"What're they saying?"
"The rumour is that you have a thing for boys, and that you're far too friendly with the younger ones. I've heard the word `queer` used." I was afraid this would happen. My attraction to youngsters could not go unnoticed forever. "They say you might be sacked. What would I do for a smoke then?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Do you think I'm queer, Phillip?"

"Well, you sometimes look at me as though you want to eat me." He took a deep drag.

I chuckled. "You are pretty fuckin' cute, you know."

"Thanks, but I'm not gay."

"Don't tell me you've never been wanked off by one of your class mates."

He hesitated. "Well. . ."

"At your age, I'd wanked half the kids in my form. I was pretty popular and lots of them liked to wank me too. We all had a great time. Between wanking and smoking, it's a wonder I learned anything."

"O.K., I once got wanked off by. . ."

"Don't tell me his name. It's between you two. Gentlemen don't tell. Have you ever been sucked off?"

"No. What's it feel like?"

"Unbelievable. You've no idea. It's totally thrilling. If I have to quit my job here it would be a pity to leave without sucking you off." There was an awkward pause. "Come on, give it a try. Stand up and face me."

Taking another pull on his fag he stood up and I unzipped his grey flannel pants and let them fall. Underneath he had on a pair of snug white Y fronts with the beginning of a hard on inside. I pulled his underpants down to mid-thigh and took hold of his lovely cock, a nice respectable five inches of uncut delight. Taking it in my mouth I gave him one of my world-class blow jobs. To his credit, he lasted a full two minutes before he came and I happily swallowed his creamy cum. He quickly pulled up his Y fronts and pants and said, "I gotta go," stubbed out his fag and hurriedly left my room. I never saw him again.

The next day I started looking for another job and within a week had landed my present position. I handed in my resignation and got out of there before the finger of accusation began to point at me. It turned out to be a good move.

I still miss those boys in their white underpants. They all looked pretty sexy, but nowhere near as hot as a girl showing off her knickers. On the other hand, if I call up a mental image of a boy in girl's knickers, then I almost cum in my pants!

* * *

The autumn term started, and on the first day, I stood a the school gate as the girls arrived, by car, by bike and on foot. I pretended to oil the hinges as I greeted them all. "Hi. Good morning. Welcome back." I saw Camilla, now wearing a blazer over her white blouse. The weather was getting cool, and soon the girls would be bundled up in coats and sweaters, all covered up. "Hello," she said, giving me a nice smile.

Each lunchtime, in the junior school playground, I would watch the few young girls on the monkey bars and the very occasional girl swinging from the horizontal bar, but there was nothing like the show that Camilla used to put on. From time to time I was getting the odd flash from some of the senior girls, as they sat on the benches that lined the playing field and I would sometimes be lucky enough to look up Camilla's skirt, but it was slim pickings.

One morning I was standing in the main corridor just as assembly was beginning, and Camilla came running up to me. "Can you help me?" she asked, panic in her voice.

"What's up?"

"I've left my book bag at home and even if I skip assembly, there isn't time before lessons start for me to go back for it."

"Where do you live?" She gave the street and number. It was a two minute drive.

"Is anyone at home?"

"Yes, the maid. She'll give it go you."

"Meet me here in 10 minutes." I ran to my car.

At her house I identified myself to the maid, collected the bag and drove back to the school. Camilla was waiting in the corridor. "Here you go," I said.

"You're my saviour. Thank you so much for keeping me out of trouble, Mr. . ."

"Call me Tony," I said, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek. I hoped nobody saw us.

Camilla's classroom had a door that opened on to the main corridor and also another that led directly outside, and it made a convenient short cut for me, which I used more often than I needed, not during class of course, but in between periods, or during break. She would often be there, sitting on, rather than at, a desk, and most times she would give me a nice up-skirt view. Of course she always made it look accidental, but I was pretty sure it was deliberate. The sexy fox was teasing me.

* * *

Then, one Saturday morning, everything changed. I was awakened at about nine o'clock by the ringing of my doorbell. Shit! Saturday was the one of the few days I got to lie in. I put a towel round my waist and opened my front door. There stood Camilla coatless in the chilly morning. "I'm so sorry to disturb you," she said, "But I've left a book that I need for prep, in the classroom. Can you open it for me?" (Prep, by the way, is homework)

"No problem, but hang on a sec while I put some clothes on."

"Did I wake you?"

"I was getting up anyway. Be right back."

I closed the door, pulled on a light sweater, slacks and shoes and opened the door again. "Let's go. Aren't you cold in that dress?"

"It's not too bad. Thank you for rescuing me again. You're very kind, Tony."

"My pleasure." She chatted away brightly as we walked past the playing field to the senior school, where I unlocked her classroom. She got the book and we headed back, still chatting. As we came to the junior building, I pointed to the horizontal bar and said, "Remember that?"

"I used to swing there."

"I know. I hope you don't mind but I used to watch you."

"That window is your apartment, isn't it?"

"My bedroom, yes."

"How often did you watch me?"

"Quite a lot, actually," I said, grinning.

"Every day, I'll bet."

"I have to confess, yes, I did."

"You sly old dog. Did you like what you saw."

"I saw a beautiful young girl hanging upside down, showing off her knickers."

She giggled. "I hoped you were watching."

"You did? How did you know anyone I was there?"

"At first I didn't, but then every so often, the curtain would twitch. I never actually saw you, but I could feel your eyes on me."

"So it wasn't all accidental. You were putting on a show?"

"After a while, yes, for you. I had a kind of crush on you. I still like you." I took hold of her hand.

"Would you do something for me, just for old times sake?"

"You want me to hang there again, don't you?"

"Please, just one more time, please," I begged.

She walked over to the bar, jumped up and did her thing. As her dress fell down, revealing her white schoolgirl knickers, I was standing about three feet away. I could see everything up to her armpits, including a tiny training bra, and as she let her arms dangle, the front of her knickers stretched revealing her crack in the most erotic way. I wanted to kiss it.

"How do I look?"

"This is about the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. You're gorgeous. I wish you were back in junior school, doing this every day."

"For you?"

"For me."

She reached up, grabbed the bar and dismounted, her face flushed. "I'm a bit cold."

"Come on in and have a hot cup of coffee. Better yet, how does hot chocolate sound?"


Inside my apartment, I got out the milk, chocolate powder, sugar and a couple of mugs. "Heat the milk in a pan. . .you know how to do it. I'm gonna take a shower and I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

I came out of the shower with just a short towel wrapped around me. We sat at my kitchen table and sipped the chocolate, chatting away. She looked so lovely with her big dreamy blue eyes and little rosebud mouth. "I want to see your bedroom," she said, "from where you used to watch me." I took her hand and led her to the room. She stepped over to the window and looked out. "Wow, it's really close. You have a great view. Who's swinging on the bar these days?"

"Nobody. Most days it's too cold."

"Poor man. No knickers to spy on."

"I get by."

"Do you really like me, Tony? I mean me, not just my underwear. Me as a person."

"I'd have to see everything before I answer that."


"Everything." She turned to face me, then pulled her dress over her head and stood there, showing herself off. "Yes, I do like you, the real you, Camilla, the girl who likes me."

She sat down on my bed and said, "It looks like there's something going on under that towel and I think it's gonna fall off."

"The towel? You reckon?"

"It's not tucked in very securely."

"You sure it's gonna fall?"


Behind my back, I hooked my fingers into the towel and gave it a yank. It fell.

"Oops," I said. "you were right." My stiff dick was just inches from her face. She leaned back on her elbows

"Take my knickers off."

Four words that could start a war, cause an empire to crumble, create a dynasty, launch a fleet of ships. She smiled, aware of the power she had over me, of how helpless I was. I dropped to my knees, hooked my fingers into her waistband and slowly slid her knickers down, revealing wisp of blonde hair and her cleft. I took them off and she opened her knees and I gazed at her moist pussy with unconcealed lust. I buried my face between her thighs and licked her crack with much more eagerness than I'd sucked Phillip's dick. My cock felt like it was going to burst as I came up for air and looked into her eyes. There was a tear rolling down her cheek and she was breathing hard. I leaned forward and kissed her, my tongue probing her mouth, feeling her tongue in mine. I ran out of breathe and we broke apart.

"Yes, do it now!" she said, her voice hoarse with desire.

I slid my dick into her. I was surprised at how easily it slid in, how far it went and how wet she was. She threw her head back and let out little whimpers, her hips thrusting to meet mine. My cock slid in and out, deeper with each stroke and then her arms were round me and she whispered, "I love you, I love you." Her words sent me over the top, and as my pulsing dick shot my cum into her, I couldn't help saying it.

"I love you too, Camilla. I really love you."

* * *

I saw her in the corridor towards the end of the week. She took hold of my arm and whispered in my ear. "I've got my first period."

"You're a woman, now." I was relieved. The possibility of pregnancy hadn't occurred to me.

As the weeks went by, she wasn't able to come to my apartment as much as I wanted. I decided we could only make love immediately before or after her period, as I had no intention of using a condom. You bring one of those things anywhere near my and my dick goes instantly soft. I hate them. What with her family commitments, we only had a couple of meetings before the end of the term. Then she went away with her family for Christmas. When the spring term started, I was expecting her to come to me the first Saturday, but instead of ringing my doorbell, she phoned me.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry." She was crying.

"What's the matter?"

She told me she had met someone, a boy, at a dance and they'd kissed and she thought she was in love with him. I told her how I'd always known that one day she would grow up and find someone else, and that I would miss her, but I understood perfectly.

"Go and be with him," I said. "Be happy. I'll never forget you." I hung up. I'd known all along this would happen.

I hardly saw her at all after that. We went out of our way to avoid each other.

The term rolled on and the Easter holidays came and went.

* * *

Summer term, and the girls were back, laughing and playing in the school yard. The sun was out and it was warm again. I occasionally peeped between my curtains out of my bedroom window at lunch time, and one day a lovely little slender Asian girl, about eleven years old, black hair and big dark eyes, came up to the horizontal bar and looked up at it for several seconds. Then she jumped up and hung for a moment, then tried to swing her legs up, but failed. I was holding my breath. She tried again, twice, three times, and then at last she figured it out and her legs were up and over the bar, and she let go and let her body and arms hang.

Oh, what bliss, what incredible joy. White cotton schoolgirl knickers, fully revealed, on display just for me.

She was there the next day, too.

I have the perfect job.

The End

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