Keep Watching the Skirts

Her two friends were conspicuously older, dressed unexcitingly like students. She by contrast was all in rebellious black, with silly furry shoes on and a short black schoolgirl-skirt. Her face was flat and pretty and cheeky.

I spied her when she was talking to someone else. Parting with a thumbs-up and a cheesy grin she caught up with her big sisters, skipping lightly so her black pleats flipped to show bare pink bumcheeks.

I gazed after her, feeling thirsty and smelly but longing to know whether she really was bare, or wearing skimpy knickers that showed off her butt. I had the urge to know, and once it had taken hold of me, that was that!

So for a whole hot day I traipsed after those little sweet butt-curves, and the maddening breeze meant I saw them a lot. I blushed if anyone passing by noticed I was watching her, but the light skipping girl herself was completely careless about her bum.

Near the day's end, the breeze really caught her skirt. Like a comical little starlet she pulled one leg up high while thrusting both hands to her sides to keep the flapping thing down, but not before I'd seen where her skimpy black knickers were tucked at the very top.

My heart leapt. At last!

Suddenly she turned, and in a big bounce of her tight black sweater announced to her two friends she'd seen me. Frightened, I fled.

A green party-dress flipped and flitted and bumped into my field of vision. I was wildly excited at once.

The girl wearing the short flouncy thing was one of the prettiest I'd seen that day. She'd changed her little patent leather party-shoes for a scuffed pair of high-tops and white sports socks, which only made me love her more. For a girl this special, one I wanted this much, every advantage would count!

So, remembering the last time, I forced myself to hang back. With a party-dress like hers, the breeze could take care of everything!

And it did. My breath caught in my throat. White ones? On a girl her age? Now she was really getting me excited! I had to have another glance at those perfect little pristine panties, so stumbled nearer. That must have given away my presence, because she turned to me!

"Please don't look," she begged, blushing and tearful. "I'm unusually shy about my knickers."

If she was embarrassed, it was nothing to how that made me feel! Hastily I made myself scarce, hoping I hadn't spoiled her party.

Another pretty girl was just ahead of me when a chance breeze lifted her skirt too. I had a great view of the secrets beneath, stockings and panties which she'd surely thought would stay hidden. Suffused with joy at this achievement, I scampered ahead of her and sang out: "Saw your knickers!"

The girl blushed, which quickened my heartbeat. Already my body was starting to respond, pushing my underwear out in front. Then she said it.

"Aren't you a bit big to be carrying on like this?"

The pert inquiry made it my turn to blush. Suddenly I felt twice as vulnerable as her, even if I had seen her knickers.

"Betcha school was one long fidget for you, if all you can think of is what we've go on under our little skirts," she went on, and now her cut-glass voice was cruel. She didn't have to say things as horrid as that! Ashamed of my pushed-out pants, and sure she could see, I moved a clumsy hand to hide the burdensome thing.

"Why don't you just get a life?" the girl cried, as if in disbelief.

"If you're going to be like that," I sniffled, and left.