‘Don’t you want to know where we’re going?’ he asked after about a mile of country road that split through rapeseed fields, the pungent smell of the yellow flower so strong.

‘Just take me,’ I said.

Despite being terrified of the prospect, I’d wanted to say those words to Mr Tinley after class was dismissed. I’d never had to stay behind before. And certainly didn’t expect to be doing it in the sixth form. I imagined him whacking me with a cane. But they didn’t allow the cane or the slipper anymore, which was a shame, because I’m sure I would have come in my knickers if he’d hit my ass.

He kept me in the corner. Do not move a muscle, he said. I listened to his footsteps as he walked to the door, heard the key turning quietly in the lock. No one was coming in. The pain in my middle was hurting so.

He stood behind me, and was saying something about obedience and respect and how important it was to do as you’re told.

My legs were shaking. And so was his voice. I listened between the words, and I closed my eyes and saw him in my mind’s eye. He had his cock out. And he was touching it to my skirt. Repeating those words, Obedience. Respect. Do as you’re told.

I was so sure, from his shortened breaths, his quieter words – strained words – that he was coming, spunking up all over my skirt. I thought I could smell it in the warm air. Was certain I could smell it. Even though I’d never smelled or even seen spunk before, I could smell the man – the musk of him, just like I could in the noisy pickup. It was coming from hot guy in waves.

‘We’re going to find somewhere to fuck.’

I smiled at him.

I’d been fucked a hundred times or more, but never by a hot guy. Hot guys were rare around these parts. I fucked flakes and pretenders and assholes who came the second you spat on their dick.

I’d heard Mr Tinley walk away again. Heard the quiet turn of the key in the lock. Let me look at you, he’d said and I’d turned to face him.

He took me in from head to toe and back again. I knew he was saving the memory. So I saved mine. The red in his cheeks. The sweat on his brow that matched mine. The catch in his breath. But best of all, the handkerchief that always poked from his breast pocket was gone, a slight bulge now in his trouser pocket. With his breath on my neck, the dirty fucker had spunked up into his hankie. He told me he expected better from me in future, that he hoped I’d learned something. I told him I’d learned a lot. I smiled knowingly and told him it was good of him to spend time with me. With just the two of us. Go now, he said, and opened the door for me.

I’d walked slowly to that door, prolonging the moment, because the smell of the man was driving me crazy. I stopped right next to him, looked up into eyes I can still see now. A mix of worry and lust. And I breathed him in. Thank you, sir, I said and stepped into the corridor.

A few paces and he called me back. I followed my nose, right back to that doorway, and breathed him in again. I noticed he was doing the same and I smiled at him. Sir?

He’d fumbled out silly words, something about if it happened again he would keep me back for longer. I’d wanted to tell him he was a dirty old man, that he’d made my knickers wet. I’d wanted Mr Tinley to lock the door again and have a feel up my skirt. Instead, I said, You’re sweating, sir. Where’s your handkerchief?

He’d wiped his brow with his fingers. You may go, he said, and I’d walked away with my thighs sticking together.

The grounds were empty of pupils, only teachers leaving for their cars. I set off walking the three miles to home, a shortcut down a dusty path through fields. It was a hot day, just like this one. I hadn’t gone half a mile and couldn’t hold it any longer. I dipped behind a thick tree and shoved my hand down my knickers, checking the dusty path each way to make sure no one would see me.

But someone was coming. A man in work overalls. Bag slung over his shoulder. Boots stomping up the dust. I ducked low until he’d passed, and then I’d came on my fingers, watching his retreating back, his stomping boots.

Just like hot guy’s boots. I thought he would keep them on when he fucked me.

The rape fields went on forever and a day, until the pickup took a left through an open gate. He killed the engine. The silence was as hot as the day. Smells of the rape flower, of musk. My cunt was soaking.

He pulled me from the cab and trampled the rapeseed down until a small circle had formed. He told me to stand in the middle of it. I did, my face held up to the sun. It was glorious.

‘You came easy,’ he said.

I didn’t know what he meant at first, thought he meant back in the cubicle.

‘I mean, you jump in any truck that stops?’

‘Yes. I mean no. I mean, you’re fucking hot. I’d be crazy not to.’

‘Lose the dress,’ he said, and I wished I knew his name.

I lost my school dress the next day, tucked behind that tree on the dusty path. Or more precisely, my entire school uniform. Everything off. Even my socks. And I dared myself to go stand on the path in the sun. And I did. For at least a minute, squeezing at my tits as the sun bore down on them. No one came. No one saw me. The thrill was amazing. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of doing this before. I ducked back behind the tree and pressed myself against the rough bark, one eye on the dusty path. And Mr Boots was suddenly in sight, a little earlier than yesterday. He’d only just missed seeing me naked. Knowing that made the pain in my middle throb. He kept on coming and I kept on rubbing against the bark, pressed all of me against it. And when he walked past the tree, I changed position, watched him go, and the urge to step out from the tree was so strong that I did it, stepped into the sunshine. I wasn’t quite on the path but I was in full sight, my nakedness lit up bright as day, and I fingered myself, wondering what would happen if Mr Boots glanced over his shoulder. But he didn’t. Just kept on walking and I’d spread my legs and stood there fingering myself until I came, diving back behind that tree just as soon as the kink left my cunt. It makes me smile every time I think about it.

I tried to remember what underwear I was wearing. Plain white knickers; they wouldn’t show through the dress. And my red bra. Scarlet for the harlot. I wondered if hot guy would have a big cock.

I peeled the dress off over my head and dropped it to the trampled rapeseed.

‘And the bra.’ He came to stand in front of me.

I lost the bra. He moved slightly, taking his shadow off my skin, the sun warm on my tits.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-nine,’ I told him.

He grabbed my hair and kissed me hard. His other hand squeezed at a tit then shoved down my pants, fingers pushing through my bush.

‘You don’t shave.’

‘No.’

He pushed me to the floor.

‘Take them off.’

I did, and opened my legs for him.

Just like I’d opened my legs for Mr Boots.

Next day, I’d stayed behind that tree with my knickers around my ankles, rubbing at my clit and timing the big O, so that I’d come as he passed right by. And I had. I’d shuddered and jerked and came so hard I blew snot bubbles. Mr Boots stomped on by, oblivious. I panted after him. Sucked my fingers clean as I watched him go. I knew then that I’d be seeing his cock sometime soon.

He didn’t show the day after. I’d hung around in the shade of the trees for more than an hour and I remember the tears. I was heartbroken, thought I might never see him again. I knew it was crazy. But I swore that if I did see him again, I’d show myself to him. I thought he deserved that.

The following day we’d had rain and thunder. I’d been thinking all day about how I would show myself to Mr Boots and how he would react. How he might touch me. How he might be my first cock. And as the time neared for the school bell to ring, I was sick and dizzy with nerves. I’d thrown up in the loos, and waited there for the grounds to clear before I headed for the rain-soaked fields. My tree smelled good, all damp and fresh and earthy. I got naked. Took off everything, including my socks, then put my coat back on. It was a parka with a furry hood. I didn’t fasten it up, just enjoyed walking back and forth, the cool air nipping at my skin, the damp grass beneath my feet so cold. Everything was a thrill. I just hoped and prayed that Mr Boots showed up.

Mr Boots did show up. He too was wearing a coat. His boots went slap on the wet path.

I peeped around the tree and worked my fingers as he came down the path, but held off from the big O. I was going to show him. I wished to God Almighty that I wouldn’t puke on his boots. Not that I believed anyone was upstairs. I always knew I’d be going to Hell anyway. Mother told me enough. But it was always best to believe when you wanted something.

Hot guy’s tongue pushed me open and licked right up my middle. My hands went to his hair and I pushed back at him. He sucked my cunt lips into his mouth, rammed home a good three fingers and fucked me fast. I was about to come when he stopped. Got up on his knees. Opened his jeans. Brought out his cock. Thick and veined, just like I’d hoped it would be.

‘Touch yourself,’ he said.

I lifted my knees and spread myself, ran a finger down through the wetness, then pushed it into my ass. Right in. And I tugged at my own sweet hole.

‘Fuck,’ he said.

‘Fuck me,’ I said.

I was so close to coming when I stepped out from that tree with my parka flapping open. Mr Boots hadn’t got very far when I opened my legs and slapped myself hard, the sound so loud on the damp air.

He stopped and turned. And I stood there, showing him everything, touching myself.

He walked to me a lot slower than I expected. His eyes were on my moving fingers. On my tits. Back to my fingers.

Stop that, he said and I took my hand away. He asked how old I was. I told him eighteen. He looked at my tits, then between my legs. He asked where my clothes were and I pointed to the tree. He told me to get them back on, so I went behind the tree and he followed me and watched as I dressed.

He said I was asking for trouble. Said I could get raped, or worse. Said I should never do such a thing ever again.

He asked where I lived and said I should go home, that he’d follow me, make sure I was safe. So I walked up the damp path with Mr Boots trailing behind all the way home.

‘You’re a dirty bitch,’ hot guy said.

‘Yes,’ I said and added another finger to my asshole.

I saw his lip twitch. Licked my lips at him.

He pulled my hand away and fucked me. Lifted my legs over his shoulders and fucked me hard.

It was fucking heaven.