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He smiled. "I knew you would do that. Well, here's what you'll do. Grab that black bag in the secretary's top desk drawer. Then, after school, go to the boy's bathroom, and bring a clean-tipped broom with you. Or a clean-tipped mop. Go now." I walked over to the secretary's desk and pulled out a black garbage bag. Its label read 'For special occasions'. I was sure that I was going to have to clean the bathrooms, but not wanting to displease the principal, I managed to convince the janitor to lend me his new mop. Then, I proceeded to return to my class. ****Three hours later**** I slowly made my way past the crowded hallways leading toward the boy's bathroom. I reached the door, and found it open. Inch by inch, I forced myself to go into the bathroom, the one forbidden to girls. The moment I opened my eyes to the sight I saw, I gasped. Standing right next to the last urinal, was my principal, Mr. Filimar- but he was stark naked and stroking a 10-inch dick that was standing straight. Last night I’d watched it shaking all over the dance floor. About an hour later, I could feel it bouncing up and down on the front seat of my old Ford while Polly held me tight and rose to meet my every thrust. It’d been sex of a different order than I’d ever known. Frantic, intense, almost driven. At the time, I couldn’t believe what was happening. I still can’t. After all, it was our first date and the first time Polly had, well, let me tell you the story.This all happened during the so-called “swinging” sixties when, according to the media, free love was sweeping the country. Maybe so, but nothing resembling any sort of sexual revolution had ever broken out in our backwater neck-of-the-woods, trust me. Anyway, Polly and I had bumped into each other earlier that day. Neither of us was dating anyone or had any plans for the weekend. So when I suggested we break the rural boredom by going out that evening, she laughed and said okay. That sounded good to me.Back in high school, Polly.
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