Hi, it’s Donna, with another story from my CP class. In case you’re new to this blog, I’ll catch you up… I managed to survive four years at the College, but it wasn’t easy. Honestly, the Dress Code nearly did me in, because it seemed so unfair to me at first.
For me, the first shock was not being allowed to wear panties, and essentially, that means no shorts, either, or pants, for that matter. My roommate, Crysta, took easily to the “no panties” rule. Good for her. But for me, well, it was awkward. Ever since high school, I liked to wear short skirts. But without panties, well, I was afraid to wear my shortest skirts. This, of course, is exactly what the Dress Code was supposed to encourage. Girls are supposed to wear longer skirts to cover up their lack of panties.
My next shock were the Inspections. I had heard about girls failing Inspections, and being forced to go to their classes naked for several days or even weeks pending a hearing. My heart went out to the girls who did their best to carry on their daily lives without the benefit of clothing. It seemed so rare, though, that I was surprised to see my first Inspection. An adorable girl was forced to raise her arms, and beg passers-by to strip her, and then after she was naked, she was forced to spread her legs, masturbate, and worse. I felt so bad for her, I asked the Inspector if I would be allowed to console her. At first, the Inspector said I would be allowed to console her if I agreed to get naked myself, but I argued, and eventually the Inspector made me take off just a single item of clothing, and I could pick which one. I was just wearing a skirt and a t-shirt at the time, and normally I would just take off my t-shirt without another thought, but my skirt was really short, and I didn’t feel like wearing such a short skirt — and nothing else — for the rest of the day, so I took off my skirt. It was the first time I ever went bottomless in public, but it was important for me to console the girl. I was glad I had the chance to kiss her, and while we kissed, I rubbed her back, As my hand traced down her back, and onto her buttocks, my fingertips accidentally touched her anus, because her legs were still spread wide. The normal barrier to touching her down there wasn’t there. I pulled away and started to apologize, but she let me know it was okay by fingering my own anus, and my vagina, too, which I was shocked to discover was very wet! I touched her vagina, and slid my fingers all the way between her legs, and between her lips to her clitoris. She was very slippery! She thanked me for consoling her, and pulled away from me because a boy was ready to have sex with her at that moment. I lingered for a while, watching them have sex, then went on to my class.
But I digress…
The point I was trying to make is that I was woefully unprepared for the rigors of the Dress Code when I came to the College. I had no understanding, at first, that a skirt or dress longer than crotch-length was an invitation to be Inspected. Now, girls like me have a much better chance to arrive at the College already acclimated to these things, because of high school classes like my CP class.
Here, girls have the opportunity to learn about the Dress Code, Inspections, Fondling (oh, did I forget to tell you about the fondling? To discourage girls from showing too much skin, the College passed an add-on to the Dress Code that allows boys to touch girls’ bare skin without their permission. Well, “without their permission” is debatable, I guess. The College maintains that a girl gives permission to be touched simply by leaving her skin bare.)
So here’s the dilemma faced by College girls: Show too little skin and you’re a target for Inspections, because maybe you’re wearing underwear. Who can tell under that long dress? On the other hand, show too much skin, and you’re a target for fondling. I know what you’re thinking: so, there’s a little fondling going on. No big deal. A girl knows if she wears a short dress, a boy will touch her pussy. She probably likes it, after all why else would she wear such a short dress. But what I didn’t mention so far was the fourth pillar of the College Code of Conduct (the first three being no panties, Inspections, and fondling). The fourth pillar is known as consensual rape. Essentially all the girls at the College have agreed in advance to engage in sex with boys — in public, mind you — whenever they exhibit signs of sexual excitement in public. It’s in the student handbook.
I was shocked when it happened to me, but it was my own fault. I started innocently enough, with my favorite top from high school. It must have been my third or fourth week at the College, so I was getting the hang of the Dress Code, and avoiding Inspections by going essentially bottomless. I say “bottomless” but I didn’t really feel bottomless because most of my tops covered at least part of my butt. But this particular top had been calling to me from my closet every morning since I got to the College. It was too long to wear with a skirt, because of the overlap rule. Tops can’t overlap bottoms, you see. But it was really too short to be decent all by itself. Hence my dilemma.
But Crysta encouraged me, so I put it on. It barely covered my belly button, but Crysta told me I looked great, so I said what the heck, and wore it. What a mistake! In my first class, a boy sat next to me and rested his hand in my lap. I had been fondled before, so I knew what to do. I spread my legs to avoid giving the appearance of resisting his touch. He continued touching me closer and closer to my pussy, reaching under me to touch my bottom. Of course I’m not allowed to resist, so I got up and knelt on my chair so he could touch my bottom. Even though his touch was unbidden, it actually felt pretty nice. He was talented at the art of massage. He made me raise my arms so he could take off my top, which strictly speaking wasn’t allowed, but I didn’t want to be seen as resisting him, so I let him strip me.
All this was happening DURING class, can you believe it? The boy took his pants down to his ankles, and motioned for me to sit on his lap, facing him. He had a ginormous erection. I knelt, facing him, my legs spread across his. I was so slippery by this point, it wasn’t difficult guiding his penis into my vagina. I came right away, but it took him a few more pushes before he ejaculated into me. He stayed hard for a while, and we cuddled. It was kind of nice. I almost came again, but the class ended, so he disengaged, and pulled up his pants.
This is why I’m teaching my young kids, so they enter College armed with the knowledge it took me a few weeks or months to get the hard way.
Pretty Girl of the Day, September 1, 2016
Over the next few weeks, I’ll use each day’s pretty girl to illustrate a single very important point, which I’ll be teaching my high school girls in my CP class: The Perfect Length.
What is the Perfect Length?
Let’s face it, girls. At the College, just about every girl wears a single item of clothing to her classes. She thinks of it as a dress, but who’s kidding who? It’s a top. And she’s not wearing a bottom. The funny thing about this is that she doesn’t really believe she’s going bottomless. Maybe it’s because all the other girls are bottomless too, so no single girl sticks out. In fact, all the girls strive to conform to the norm. The norm is the perfect length top.
The perfect length is simply the same length as all the other girls. Not longer, and not shorter. In my experience at the College, the perfect length starts out in September about two inches below the crotch — long enough to cover a girl’s pussy, but not long enough to completely cover her butt.
Then, as the fall semester wears on, the dresses get a little shorter. Not much shorter. Just a little shorter. It happens because the girls singled out for Inspection are the ones wearing tops at crotch plus 2 inches or so. We see them stripped naked and forced to perform all sorts of lewd sex acts for our entertainment, and so we gradually mothball our crotch+2 dresses.
We rationalize it this way: Crotch+1 or even Crotch+0 is enough to cover our pussies, and keep us from being Inspected. And if someone tries to look up our dress, well, even Crotch+2 doesn’t help much, so it doesn’t really matter.
Besides, all the boys know we’re not wearing underwear. All a boy has to do is look up a stairway, or wait for one of us to bend over, and they can see all the pussy they want. So it’s not a big deal. What was, in September, a constant source of worry is now, in October, no big deal.