Author: Spunk N. Wagnels Title: (SNW) Not With My Daughter! 25 Part: 25 Universe: Not With My Daughter! Saga Summary: Marnie and friend return from a European vacation and run into unexpected frivolity along the way, while Brenda has her hands full will her own tormentor at school and turns on a friendly teacher to solve her dilemma. Keywords: M+/FF, exhib, humil, bd, nc, The following is adult fiction intended for legally mature adults to view at their discretion where and when it is legal to do so. Similarity to persons, living or dead is coincidence. All rights are reserved by the author. Permission is granted to archive in places where adults can legally view it free of charge, and as long as no words are changed, including this disclaimer. This is a continuation of a story, "Not With My Daughter!" & "Not With My Daughter!, Parts 2-24" which can be found at "Spunk’s Place" here: /~spunknwagnels Not With My Daughter! Part 25 by Spunk N. Wagnels Brenda dressed for school as directed by Vanessa, under a long coat to get out the door past her father. "Goodbye Sweetie. Have a good day at school today." Roger said, as he kissed his daughter at the front door. Brenda smiled and tried to conceal her sense of trepidation for the day ahead, holding the coat closed tightly to conceal her costume for the day. "Goodbye Dad, you too." Larcher’s words repeated in her head like a mantra, "go along to get along until you can turn the tables." "But how am I going to ‘turn the tables’." Brenda would ask herself over and over. Ronda and Rosemary picked her up in front. "What are you wearing a long coat for? It’s not supposed to rain. It’s going to be warm today." Rosemary asked. "Oh, I don’t know. It was just something I grabbed at the last minute." Brenda covered with. At her locker, Brenda was finally going to have to remove the coat and face the student body in the pink leotard she wore a couple of years ago at dance class, only then, she wore it with tights. This pink leotard attached to a collar of material around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and had an oval cut out in front revealing cleavage almost to the areolas. The back was scooped, to reveal that she was without a bra. The leg holes rode high on the hips to the waist with the next thing to a thong up the back. The modesty panel was removed, so the thin stretched material revealed each curve and change in color everywhere on her body. Fortunately today, Vanessa had her wear the flared short skirt, which covered her rear and crotch, but only if she stood perfectly still, and a scooped neck tee-shirt which was cut short so that just the hint of breast showed at parade rest. Brenda would not get her opportunity to entrap Ms. Lambert until the end of the day at practice. She was going to have to make it through the entire day without retreat in the halls and chambers of her high-school. She walked slowly to first period clutching her books to her chest with both arms. In class she was the model student taking copious notes to avoid eye contact with her classmates who were checking her out, passing notes and whispering. On the way to second period, she walked with her head down and ducked into the washroom, when two seniors paced her steps in the hall. They followed her in and pushed her up against the wall, causing her to spill her books. Brenda looked at them fearfully in their eyes. They each pinned a shoulder back to the wall. She began to recognize them as friends of Vanessa’s. Jill spoke for the two of them, "So did you follow your instructions?" "Ye, yes." Brenda replied. "Let me see." Jill said, as she lifted Brenda’s skirt. The other followed the lead and lifted the tee-shirt in front. Jill started to stroke Brenda’s pussy and the other girl started to stimulate her nipples to get them erect. Then Jill slide her finger inside the crotch and felt along the inside to see if the modesty panel had been removed. Her knuckle grazed Brenda’s clitoris several times in the process causing her to shudder in response. "Look," the other girl said, "they show nicely through this." "Yes, nicely." Jill said, as she leaned down and looked at the crease created by Brenda’s now puffy nether lips. "You’d better stay this way all day, or you’ll be sorry. We’ll be watching." She warned, then they let Brenda go to pick up her books as others filed into the washroom. When Brenda returned to the hall, she saw Vanessa’s friends talking to a couple of boys and looking back at her. She decided to take the long way to her next class. She was late, so she had to make her way sheepishly to the last seat in front, saved for whoever would choose to play teacher’s pet. Under other circumstances, she might have actually gotten off on teasing everyone in the room. That is, if it had been on her terms. As it was though, she felt humiliated and embarrassed by the eyes of her teacher, classmates, and the commotion she could hear behind her. She teamed up with Susan for lunch. In the line Susan leaned in and asked, "Brenda, don’t you think you have over done it a bit too much today?" "Yeah, I guess I did. I can’t wait until this day is over." Brenda responded confidentially back. As Susan got to the end of the line, she headed off to an unoccupied table. As Brenda was about to join her with her tray, she became surrounded by a group of boys, creating a tight corral with their bodies. One spoke up, "Look, you can see her belly button through this. I wonder what else you can see?" He lifted up her tee-shirt in front. She bent forward and backed up, trying to keep her large breasts hidden from their glares. As she backed up, the boy she backed into lifted her skirt and put his hands on her bare cheeks, startling her and causing her to lose her grip on her tray. The crash of her lunch on the tiled floor caused the boys to disperse. Brenda looked at the mess with tears starting to well up, turned, and headed out of the hall. She was stopped by a monitor who said, "Hey young lady, where do you think you are going. If you don’t pick up your mess, who do you think is supposed to do it?" Brenda realized that she would be putting on a show if she got down to clean up the mess. She was paralyzed with indecision, until Susan rushed up to help her with the parts of the clean-up that would require anything other than a modest squat. "Thanks Susan. You really are the best." Brenda said taking both of Susan’s hands in hers and squeezed for emphasis. "Hey Bren, you’d do the same for me, right?" Brenda’s day didn’t get much better, as she had her skirt flipped and her cheeks groped by phantoms in the halls between classes, who knew that with the way she clutched her books, she could provide herself no defense. Finally, last period came around, varsity cheerleading practice. It was now or never. She would have to get Ms. Lambert in a compromising position for Vanessa, to get herself off the hook, or the next day, she wouldn’t even get to wear the leotard. "Now I pray that Lambert is into women, like they say, and today I’ve got to be that woman. Oh god this is terrible!" Brenda lamented. Brenda didn’t change. She went right out to practice dressed to thrill as she was. She wasn’t getting the reaction from Ms. Lambert that she had hoped for, but nevertheless dreaded. Rather, Ms. Lambert looked disappointed and disapproving of Brenda at practice. "What am I going to do now?" Brenda panicked. Then Brenda slipped and pulled a hamstring muscle a bit. She got up and shook it off, but realized that maybe she shouldn’t, and went back down. Ms. Lambert turned the practice over to the captain and helped the ailing Brenda off the court holding Brenda’s arm over her shoulders. Once inside the training room, Ms. Lambert had Brenda lie down on the table. "I’ll see if I can rub it out for you." She said. Brenda lay down so that her skirt bunched up past her crotch, then opened her legs when Ms. Lambert’s fingers started to squeeze the back of her leg. "Ms. Lambert already said that she thought I was pretty. She has to be seeing my crotch fully now. I’ll rest up on my elbows so she can see my breasts if she wants. If this doesn’t do it, what else is there left to do?" Brenda schemed. When Brenda looked back, she saw two figures through two sets of windows on the other side of Ms. Lambert’s office. Ms. Lambert’s back was to them and they appeared to be video taping the physical therapy. Ms. Lambert’s seemed to be breathing a little unevenly, and she appeared to be red faced, when Brenda looked back at her with appreciation in her eyes. "I think some lineament might do the trick." Ms. Lambert said, backing away to go to the cabinet. She took down the bottle and fumbled a bit with the top. When she got the bottle open, she tried to pour some in her hand, but she over poured and some spilled on Brenda’s crotch. "Oh god, get those clothes off and get in the shower quickly. You’ll need to wash that off before it stings too badly." As she pulled her hands back from Brenda, she tipped the lineament bottle towards herself onto her own lap with her elbow. "Oh god, now me too. Hurry." Brenda and Ms. Lambert hurriedly got their clothes off, but not before the burning started to set in. They both were in the shower padding in place trying to wash off the offending oil while at the same time trying not to rub it in worse. "How are you doing?" Ms. Lambert asked embarrassed and concerned. "It stings something fierce, but I think I’m getting it under control. I’m getting out now." Brenda said, now starting to feel uneasy about being naked in the shower alone with Ms. Lambert. Ms. Lambert had an attractive athletic body with small nipples and naturally firm breasts of someone who worked out regularly and hadn’t had children. As she started to move out, Brenda slipped onto her back with a thud. Ms. Lambert rushed over and straddled her at the hips, bending forward to place her hands on Brenda’s shoulders. "Are you all right?" She asked. Brenda answered a bit dazed, "I think so." Then there were a series of flashes. Two girls stood at the entrance to the showers, one with a still shot and the other with a super-eight video camera at their faces for disguises. The shooting continued as Ms. Lambert turned to look them straight on. Then they were gone. Ms. Lambert went to the opening to look both ways, but they were nowhere to be seen. Then she went back to help Brenda up. Little did she know that Brenda’s tears were not so much for her discomfort as they were for her guilt and embarrassment of being a party to what might come next for her coach. ***** "This time I’m sleeping." Marnie said to Barbara convincingly, as they settled into their seats, a few rows back from where they started out on this trek. "So what did you book us on this time?" She asked Barbara. "I’d like to know what I’m getting into in advance on this one." "All these youngsters are college students. They are returning from a trip in Europe to visit art institutes and museums, someone told me. I don’t think we will have much to worry about with serious art students, do you?" Barbara advised. "I suppose not. I’m starting right off asleep. Wake me when we land in the good old U.S. of A." Marnie said, closing her eyes. Barbara watched as the seats around them filled with boisterous college boys, who didn’t seem like they would respect the ladies’ wishes to sleep their way across the Atlantic. As they got under way, she sat fretfully in her seat, closing her eyes, then opening them, wishing against hope that she would fall asleep soon. The young blond surfer looking dude next to her kept looking her over each time she opened her eyes. Eventually, he asked, "Is everything okay? I mean are you comfortable and all?" "Yes, thank you. I’m just having some trouble getting to sleep, that’s all." She replied. Marnie was hooked on the conversation, although she was unwilling to open her eyes. "My name is Mike. We are just returning from a tour of Europe. How about you guys?" "My name is Barbara. I heard something about your trip, to museums and art institutes? Sounds like you picked an exceptional school and have generous parents to be able to do such a thing. Was it nice?" "Nice? Well, it was a gas. The art chicks are a lot freer than the science majors." Mike said. "Why do I get the idea that you are not particularly into art?" Mike leaned in to tell Barbara confidentially, "I’m not. My buddies and I take the art stuff because it is a slide on ice. In class we just view slides in the dark. Getting on this trip was a coup for my fraternity buddies and me. Can you believe we get credit for this stuff?" "So I take it, you boys don’t really remember much of your trip of an academic nature." Barbara challenged. "Sure we do, I remember Reubens, Titian, Manet, and Botticelli. Although plump, the babes were hot." "Oh, I see. You don’t remember anything else, like Monet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, or Picasso?" "Vaguely. So where did you two ladies spend your time?" Mike asked. "We were on a Club Mediterranean tour." "One of those adult fantasy tours?" Mike asked with wide eyes. "Yeah, I guess . . . You’ve heard of the outfit?" "Oh my god. Hey guys," Mike was saying, getting the attention of the guys to his sides, in front, and behind him, "these ladies went to The Island." Now Marnie disclosed the fact that she wasn’t able to sleep yet, as she opened her eyes to a myriad of young men staring back at the two of them from all angles. "Oh hi. I’m Mike. So Barbara, tell us about it, please. Everything." "Oh it would be a long story, and I’m kinda tired, Boys." "You said you were having trouble getting to sleep. I’ll get you a drink. That will relax you so you can get ready to sleep," Mike said pushing the orange light, "and you can tell us all about it, as you get tired enough to sleep." "Marnie? A little help here?" Barbara asserted. "Say boys. Why don’t you tell us about your trip first." Marnie offered. "Okay, only if you two drink with us. It is going to be a long trip and we can all sleep it off before we land." Marnie smiled with her hands clasped palms down in her lap waiting her first round. For the next hour, the boys engaged the two in stories and drinking games. Barbara and Marnie felt uncharacteristically comfortable with these playful flying companions. It might have taken them back to their youth in college, where they had less commitments and responsibilities. Whatever the reason, they both enjoyed the youthfully exuberant attention from these young studs. The noise and commotion from the front of the cabin attracted others from the back. The peer pressure to remain huddled in with the partiers required that you got caught up with the drinking, so only the serious partiers remained crammed in to be part of the goings on. When Marnie and Barbara were pretty lose, they began to talk about their trip enthusiastically adding editorial and clarifying comments to what the other one was telling. At one point, the boys convinced them, as well as a couple of other girls, that they should show them how they dressed there. In the confusion of the drinking games, Marnie and Barbara’s blouses had already been unbuttoned all the way down any way. The two seats to their left and the two to the right had become vacated by Mike and the other boys, and now replaced with four girls who were ready to party as far as this crowd was willing to go. There was a spring break atmosphere happening. Here was a row of six females in nothing but their bras, panties and a drink in hand, giggling, and playfully shoving and touching. Marnie and Barbara were being transported to another time and place by the energy. Marnie’s dizzy reverie was momentarily stopped by the boy directly in front of her, who took his index finger up under the center of her bra and said, "Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without this on?" Then she was pushed forward by two hands on her shoulders. She drunkenly drooped her body down in front, with her head approaching her knees, just long enough for some hands to unhook her bra in the back. She came back up, but as she did her seat was being lowered back. This falling feeling caused her to raise the back of her right hand to her forehead and her other hand in the air, which in turn brought her loose bra up off of her full breasts. With one more swoop of the boy right behind her, it was gone altogether. Marnie sat back in her chair holding the wrists of the young girl to her left and Barbara on her right, as she weathered the dizzying sensation in her head. She hadn’t felt this unbalanced since testing her limits by intentionally spinning around and around as a kid. The boys were convincing the other girls to let them remove their bras as well. Barbara was resisting until she was the last one, and saw how peaceful Marnie looked with her eyes closed in the reclined seat. Barbara took her arms down from her chest and let the drooling lads do the honors of gently removing her foundation garment. Now all of the women were topless, eyes closed, and in varying states of reverie. Boys fought for turns in the row behind at feeling the breasts of the woman seated before them. They worked it out that they would move down the row of women one by one feeling, testing, and evaluating the best feel. Marnie and Barbara started to get really turned on by the sensations these boys were creating. They, along with the others, started to sit with their hands tucked in between their legs, pushing their breasts out to the touches, trying to sneak some necessary stimulation to boot. Occasionally, when someone was too rough, one of their hands would come up touch or grab the wrist of the groper. It wasn’t long before the women were wantonly squirming and audibly moaning. Some flight attendants appeared, but since this was a charter flight, and they were assured no one was getting hurt, they let the festivities continue, returning to their chatting and bar tending in the back. Now the boys turned this into a contest. They stopped the switching behind the women and six of them took up the task of trying to stimulate the woman in front of him to cum before the others. There was cheering the women by name, rhythmic clapping in unison, and calling out techniques like, "just the nipples," "squeeze’m," "jiggle’em," and "everything but the nipples." Marnie didn’t need much encouragement. She needed to cum badly. She and the others started to openly stroke her nether regions in reckless abandon. The young filly to her left must have gotten a hit of energy off of Marnie, because she came first in a flurry of flailing legs. Then Marnie got a hit off of that and came in second in a body shuddering orgasm. As she was basking in it, she tuned in to the competition around her and watched as two others got off to cheers and accolades. Now she grew concerned for Barbara. Barbara was just squeezing her hands between her legs still and trying to come from just her breasts being stimulated. Without thinking, Marnie put her hand between her friend’s legs and started to stroke her so she wouldn’t come in last. Marnie the competitor took over and tuned in to Barbara’s responses to the point that she helped her cross the bridge into nirvana by a cunt hair, just before the last girl on the far right did. Barbara was too lost in her own release to ponder what just happened at the hand of her friend. Marnie, however, started to feel weird and embarrassed by the happenings and her impulsive act. In the cheering, laughing and jostling, she piped up, "Now you boys have had your fun. How about if the shoe is put on the other foot." She said, distracting herself from thoughts that would haunt her from the moment just before. "Like what do you have in mind?" Mike said coming down from laughing. "Like you boys should line up with your pants down and we get to feel You up." Marnie said with drunken resolution. Mike cleared the front row at the bulkhead and directed five boys besides himself to sit in the seats with their pants down to their knees. "Okay ladies, batters up." The women now rallied behind Marnie who started to feel the equipment of each boy in turn. She thought she was entering heaven as she went from one set of cock and balls to the next. The others followed her, including Barbara, who by now had learned to follow suit so as not to stand out. The women rotated down the line as the boys had done. Even some women that were not part of the original six got into the act. One of them said, "We should be testing them for size and stuff, like they did to us." Mike said, "The only way I know to test us for size and Stuff, is to sit on them." The women huddled, looking back at the row of stiff pricks with smiles on their faces. Then one of them pulled her panties down to her knees and backed down onto the first stud with obviously pleasurable results. Then each of them got in line and took a slide or two on each one of the boys as they rotated down the line. "Aren’t you gals gonna make this a contest, like we did?" Mike challenged. "Somebody get some music going. You each can work one of us until the music stops. Then you switch. When one of us comes, we are removed. Then when the music starts again, and someone is without a pole to ride, they’re eliminated too. Viola. You’ll have a winner." It sounded logical, reasonable, and doable, so the game began. The women unanimously shut their eyes, to be able to focus on nothing but the sensation the pole, they were squatting on, was creating at their core. The music would stop and they would reluctantly wait to slide down another pole stuffing them as they squatted up and down. The cheers went up again, a rhythm was created for them by the clapping in unison, and they began to sweat from the physical exertion this game was now requiring. One by one a lad would push his mare off of his pole so he could shoot off to the cheers of the onlookers. One by one the women got eliminated when the music started again, and they couldn’t snare a new pole to sit upon. Marnie and Barbara were more determined than the younger girls, it would appear. They were the only two left. When Marnie’s stud pushed her off and shot off on her rear, she knew that she would be fighting her best friend for the last pole position. Then she thought "how embarrassing is this. The humiliation of doing this last boy with everybody looking on. Oh, I can’t do it. I’ll just let Barbara beat me to the pole." Marnie thought. Marnie and Barbara were waiting facing each other with their hands on each other’s forearms for the music to start again. When it started, neither of them moved. They both must have been thinking the same thing. Marnie started to move Barbara in the direction of the horny lad waiting for whomever it would be to finish him off. Barbara then did the same. When it was clear to Marnie that Barbara really didn’t want to do it, she thought to herself, "I don’t care. I’m really horny, I’ve got to cum. I’m not going to let this lad leave my horns unclipped." Then Marnie looked Barbara in the eyes one last time to be sure, and returned to the seat of honor on the horny lad’s pole. She worked it at her own tempo, one hand rubbing her clitoris, the other her breasts, oblivious to the rest of the spectators present. The music stopped, just for fun, it had no further bearing for the game, but Marnie kept on going as if she and this lad’s pole were the only things on the plane. The lad was obviously about to cum as he started to place his hands on her rear. Marnie pinched off the base of his cock with her left hand, as she continued to bring herself closer to the brink with her right. The lad moaned in some discomfort at the interrupted flow, but was too weak and far gone to insist that Marnie get up. Finally, something burgeoned inside Marnie. It was like a mushroom cloud shooting up and expanding in her brain. She let out a scream and pushed down hard on the boy’s lap. The boy was slapping the side of her cheeks to get her to get up. "Oh my god lady. I can’t stop it." He declared and he let go his juice up into her contracting womb. The boys whistled and cheered and the girls looked on envious and frustrated for having their own release cut short by their eliminations. Marnie’s gutsy, take charge display had a sobering effect in the end on the frivolity, and the impromptu party began to wind down. The rowdy comments started to wane, as people collected their clothes, redressed, and retook their assigned seats. Barbara sat kind of sidesaddle looking at Marnie. Marnie avoided eye contact with her, by looking at her nails that she was fiddling anxiously with, hands resting in her lap. "Marnie?" Barbara asked. "Yes?" Marnie answered, still looking down. "Thank you for caring about me and looking after my well-being." Barbara said with an appreciative smile. "Sure thing." Marnie got out, managing to avoid tears, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and they finally got that intended sleep all the way back, despite events going on around them. Comments welcomed: spunknwagnels@bigfoot.com