The Girls
Chapter 1—Gemma: Arsing About
Gemma left the counsellor’s office, with a note excusing her for being late to class. A wiser student might have realised that in this note there was an excuse to dilly-dally, that under its protection, lateness would have no negative ramifications.
Gemma, however, didn’t realise any of this.
It wasn’t that Gemma was stupid, exactly. She just liked to focus her attention elsewhere—on hair, clothes, boys. Particularly boys. Gemma didn’t consider herself to be gorgeous, regardless of what the rest of the world seemed to think.
Her rather nice face was always buried in makeup, her lovely long legs were more often than not covered with stockings. She alternated between thinking that her breasts were too large and too small, and either way, she thought that they were oddly shaped, and covered them up with thick sweaters, and restrictive bras.
But even Gemma was aware that she had a truly great arse.
It was this thought that had suddenly struck her, as she scurried towards her classroom. She had happened to glance through a window, and notice a female student bending over to pick up a pen.
Without realising, Gemma’s pace slowed, and eventually stopped, as she stood, staring at the bottom which presented itself to her. Her head cocked to the side, and she started to rate various elements of the arse.
“Yes,” she thought, “it’s pert. Definitely pert. Good size, too, maybe a bit hefty. Is mine pert? Oh dear, I hope that I’m smaller than that one. My arse is really all that I’ve got going for me.”
Gemma twisted her head around, and tried to check herself out. She was wearing a plaid miniskirt, with thick black leggings. She loved miniskirts, but was too embarrassed to show her legs in public.
It was impossible to see anything from this angle. The girl’s toilets were only a few metres away, and they were sure to have a mirror—Gemma gave one last, lingering look at the behind of the girl in the classroom, and nipped into the toilets.
They were unoccupied, and she tried to position herself so that she could see her own arse in the tiny mirror that hung over the sink. It was tricky, but at last, if she stood on the toilet seat and craned her neck around, she had a pretty good angle.
“Nice,” she mentally commentated. “Although it’s a bit hard to see, under all those layers.”
Gemma blinked twice, as a thought occurred to her. She liked to take a while letting ideas settle into her head, make sure that she was covering all the angles, not rushing into anything. She admired her arse for a few minutes longer, milling the idea over in her head, then she came to a decision.
It was the girl’s toilet, no one was likely to come in without knocking. If she took her knickers and her leggings off, and flipped her skirt up, she’d have an unfettered view. She’d be able to see her arse quite clearly, without having to wait the 6 or 7 hours until she had the opportunity to check herself out at home.
Slowly, Gemma peeled her leggings off, surprised by how much she was enjoying watch her legs come into view. Her legs, she realised, weren’t as bad as she’d always thought. She felt like she was seeing them impassionately for the first time; objectively, instead of with the subjective viewpoint she normally held.
Her black leggings lay on the bathroom floor, as she turned from side to side, admiring her panty-clad buttocks from one angle, and then another. Her arse was definitely nicer than the one she’d seen through the window; it was equally pert, but slightly smaller, with lovely curves, and a real teardrop shape. It looked fairly symmetrical, though it was hard to tell from this angle, and her panties weren’t helping.
Gemma got down from the toilet seat, and opened the door to the toilets, just a fraction. It looked like the coast was clear; she closed the door once more, and removed her panties as well. She was surprised to discover that they were slightly damp; she tried to remember if anything had gotten her excited that day, but nothing sprung to mind.
Mentally admonishing herself for her unshaved pussy (“I must remember to take care of that tonight”, she thought) Gemma got into position on the toilet seat once more. Oh, yes. That was one lovely arse. She turned this way and that, transfixed once more. One of her hands went down and started stroking it. If she focussed on the mirror, she could almost pretend that it was someone else touching her.
The school bell snapped her out of her trance; she had completely lost track of the time. She brought her hand up from her pussy, where it had been gently playing, and looked at her watch—10:30!? She’d left the counsellor’s office at 9:45, how had she...oh, of course.
Gemma glanced up at the mirror once more, and if it wasn’t for the risk of someone entering the girl’s toilets and seeing her, she probably would have stared at her arse for a while longer. It was just such a nice bottom, how was she supposed to resist?
Pulling her panties back on, Gemma stared at her leggings for a while, before deciding not to wear them back out. Without them, she was sure to attract more attention to her legs, and that would lead naturally to attention on her behind. She found herself breathing quite heavily at the thought—boys staring at her arse, maybe giving it a little slap as she walked by. Maybe if she stood at the table and made sure to stick it out just so, someone would come behind, her, and start to...
Without even realising it, Gemma had started to play with her pussy once more. Her hand was toying, pulling on her pubic hair, getting herself moist, as she imagined the boys staring at her arse, slapping it gently, playing with it. She imagined that she was in the school cafeteria, perhaps she was bending over a table to reach a tray. Her short skirt rode up, and everyone in the room was staring at it, wishing it was theirs.
Jeremy, a boy that she’d had a crush on for a few months now, came up and did what everyone else was thinking of doing. He flipped her skirt up, slapped her on the arse, and lowered her panties....
Suddenly aware of what she was doing, of where she was, Gemma shook her head, pulled her panties back up, and got down from the toilet stool. Such thoughts would certainly only lead to trouble. She gave herself one last parting glance in the mirror. Sure, she might not have much else going for her, she thought, but surely this arse of hers more than made up for it.