Author's Note: As usual for my stories this one starts slow and builds. If you're looking for a quick wham bam thank you ma'am then my stories probably are not for you unless you just skip ahead to the sex. All of the characters are completely fictitious, except for the ones based on real people that I know. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Everyone is over 18 years of age and are not breaking any laws, except for some backward ass (pun intended) sodomy laws and some indecent exposure ones. As always, constructive feedback is welcome. I do try to work readers' ideas into my stories so if there is some activity, fetish or nasty idea you would like added, let me know. -- Tappy.
This story begins last May, although in reality, it goes back 20 years. My name is Tammy M. I'm not going to give you my last name to protect the innocent, the not so innocent and the very satisfied. I'm 38 years old. I am a tenured professor at Mount Holyoke in South Hadley, Ma. For those who don't know, Mouth Holyoke is one of America's oldest all-girls colleges. I teach women's studies, an interdisciplinary examination of current events as they pertain to being a woman, and I teach philosophy. Of the two classes, the women's study class is the most interesting. It is almost always senior girls in that class, although on occasion a junior will sign up. I like it because it only meets for one lecture. After that the students work independently, although they must meet with me weekly, as they prepare a presentation on their topic of choice. The topic is ultimately their decision, although I have an advisory roll and I make sure they chose a topic worthy of a semester's worth of research. Their final presentation represents the entire grade in the class so choosing a poor topic is death to the final grade. Many of my students pick the class because they think it will be an easy 3 credits. It is not. The successful ones put in huge amounts of work. These are the girls I know are planning to continue their education all the way to the Doctorate level and who see this class as a training opportunity for how much work they will have to do on a Doctoral Thesis. In my philosophy class I try to expand my student's minds to think outside of the box and examine the world in ways their upbringing hasn't allowed them to do. This is not an easy class either. Many of the girls wash out and drop the class in the first weeks, but those who complete it, I think, do expand their world view and benefit greatly from my teaching.
As I said, my story really starts 20 years ago when I met my future husband. I was a freshman in college when I met him and we fell madly in love. We spent all four years of my college life dating and were married just two weeks after graduation. He was a marvelous man and a wonderful lover. We were together for 15 years and the fire never left our relationship. That is until he got cancer at the age of 33 and died less than 6 months later. I was devastated. Here I was 34 years old and for all I could tell my life was over. I moped around for the better part of a year just going through the motions. I'd gone from having a man passionately in love with me who showered me with physical attention and affirmation to having my right hand be my only companion. And a poor one at that. I'd never been a big fan of masturbation, but for that year, my fingers were my only sexual outlet.
At this point I should mention that since meeting my husband, his lovemaking skills had turned me into a bit of a nymphomaniac. We'd make love for hours on end and I would always climax multiple times. I'd never realized how much I needed sex until I wasn't getting it any more. As part of my grieving process I'd pledged never to be with another man, but after a year of frustration using my fingers, my willpower of remain true to my departed husband was at its lowest point when I finally succumb to temptation. We had a kid in the neighborhood that cut our grass. He was 18 or 19 by now and as I watched him cut our back yard and remove his sweat covered t-shirt to cool off I could feel myself being drawn to him. His tight chest was glistening with beads of sweat and I knew I had to have him.
I wondered if I'd need some grand seduction plan to entice him into hooking up with a woman almost twice his age, but I didn't. Although I don't consider myself old, I don't have the body of a 20 year old. I have a little extra padding and curves, although not too much, and my ample breasts have started to show the effects of gravity, but I still have a pretty face and I certainly have a world of love making experience. It was this experience which apparently struck a chord with my first conquest. I simply walked up to him and looked him straight in the eyes. He seemed to know what I wanted and was very happy to give it to me. Three times in fact. Finally my needs were met. At least for a day.
That night in bed I relieved what had happened. I masturbated to the vision of him sweating above me pounding me over and over and I came again. But I also had another vision. One of my reputation. As a respected member of the faculty, it was definitely in my best interests not to let word of my needs get around town. At the same time, the thrill of bedding a guy half my age was something I knew I didn't want to let go. Fortunately there was a solution.
South Hadley is about 90 miles west of Cambridge and all of the Boston area's wonderful colleges and universities. Colleges and universities stocked with athletic and willing young men to keep my pussy and ego happy. Fortunately my husband's life insurance was enough to pay off our mortgage and my salary kept me living comfortably in the upper middle class. I could afford a regular weekend visit to my hunting ground. I'd leave campus about 3pm after my last class. I found a basic motel near town which was fairly inexpensive and clean enough. I didn't need a lot of services. The first thing I'd do in the room is strip off my conservative teaching clothes and lie on the bed until I could give myself a good orgasm. I would then shower and begin the process of reinventing myself for the hunt.
I'd always hated the term cougar. I still do. But it is appropriate. By the end of my transformation I would be dressed to kill. Competition was tough against the sleazy 20 something girls and in the jungle and survival of the fittest ruled. Depending on which area I was hunting this trip I might be dressed in a sexy cocktail dress (always split up the side showing a lot of leg and plenty of cleavage), stockings and high heels. Or sometimes it was a very tight pair of jeans, knee high boots (with a stiletto heel of course) and a tight white tank top. No matter what fashion style the weekend hunt brought, I'd be aggressive in controlling whomever I chose. I'd walk into a student populated bar and within minutes I'd know who I'd be leaving with. Invariably I would walk out and head back to my motel with some young stud that chose my experience over some ditzy college girl. They were never disappointed and I'd use every trick in my arsenal to keep them going all night until I finally collapsed in satisfaction. I'd sleep in the next morning. Sometimes I'd head home and other times I'd spend the day in Boston until I could repeat the hunt again that night, although sometimes an afternoon hunt was also on the agenda. In a way I was thankful that I taught at an all girl's college because I don't know if I could have survived this period of my life surrounded by available college boys. I was still conflicted because in my mind a "good" girl doesn't spread for a boy within an hour of meeting him. Every time I made it home I'd promise myself that was my last hunting trip. I'd usually make it through the next weekend at home but then the weekend after that it was back to Boston for another sex safari.
This process went on for about 4 years. I was getting what I needed and the boys were certainly satisfied with the life's wisdom I was giving them. I know they would be better lovers for whoever they ended up with because of what I taught them. At least that is what I told myself. I always made them wear a condom and I was also on the pill. On a few occasions I got a repeat performance when I'd hook up with a previous lover, but primarily it was fresh cock each trip I took. I always used a fake name (Elizabeth) and never mentioned that I was a teacher. I was always a lawyer (at the Ivy League bars) or some kind of an admin person (at the working class bars) and I tried not to hit the same bar more than once a year. So what does all this have to do with my story really beginning last May? Not much actually. Nobody discovered my secret and tried to blackmail me. I just thought you'd want to know where I was coming from.
At the end of last April my interdisciplinary students began to make their presentations. Some were good and some not so much. I was getting near the end of the presentations. I had two more scheduled for Friday afternoon. I was horny and looking forward to another trip to the hunting grounds. I had one presentation scheduled for 1pm. Each student got an hour and a half. At 3pm was my last presentation of the year and then I was free for the weekend. Next week I had to administer my philosophy final and finish grading the presentations and then it was summer break.
First up was Julie Sinclair. Julie was a 21 year old senior. She was also in my philosophy class. She was a delight in class and I was really looking forward to her presentation. I had been her academic advisor for the past three years and we got to know each other very well. Beyond the hour each week I had advised her on her research for this class, I'd spent countless hours counseling her on her future plans, graduate school at Harvard for starters, but we'd also spent a bit of social time outside of school. Her family was very wealthy. Her father is a CEO of a major corporation (the kind that donates buildings) and it was clear Julie was the apple of his eye and would get whatever she wanted. She was also exceptionally beautiful. I often wondered what it would be like to bring her on one of my hunting trips just to see the guys fawn and drool over her and make fools out of themselves trying to get her attention. But she seemed oblivious to the effect she must have had on them.
Normally I had one other professor and one student who made up the judging panel for these presentations. Unfortunately both had cancelled just before Julie was to begin. I'd managed to get replacements for my 3pm student, but couldn't find anybody on short notice for Julie. Still I knew she was going to kill this presentation so I decided to let her present anyway. It was my normal practice to run a video camera during the presentation so if I had any doubts as to the grade she deserved; I could always show the tape to someone for their opinion. Julie's topic was Female Sexual Liberation through the 20th Century. This may sound like a weird topic, but probably half the girls pick something sexual. I always assumed it had something to do with being an all-girls college and the fact that their hormones at this age always seemed to be raging. Usually these presentations ended up being pretty similar. In fact I'd already seen three others on this topic this semester alone. But the grade was focused on the research and presentation thereof so if Julie had done her work, she could still be ok. Right from the start I knew Julie's presentation would not be the same as the others.
The first clue was that she had brought visual aids. Of course most of the presentations had PowerPoint slides, printouts or physical examples. Julie's was the first I'd seen which had live models. The second clue was that she was dressed to kill. In fact she reminded me of how I dressed when hunting at the Ivy League schools. She was impeccable. Professional, yet sexy at the same time. Her blonde hair was done up and pulled into a very tight pony tail. She had glasses on, something I'd never seen before. They were round frames and made her look very studious. I wondered if the lenses were clear and were just for show. She was also wearing a tailored black suit. It fit perfectly and was definitely not off the rack. Her skirt was short, but not too short and the jacket was cut to give the illusion of an hourglass figure I knew she didn't possess. Like most of the rich kids in the school she was impossibly thin, but you wouldn't know it from the cut of the jacket. She finished the look with stockings and heels. She looked ready to conquer the world.
Her two assistants were younger and I didn't recognize them. They were dressed well, but not as professionally as Julie. She introduced them as Megan and Jackie. Apparently they lived in town and were not students. Julie and her assistants setup a translucent screen next to the podium. I noticed that they also had a large suitcase. Megan and Jackie disappeared behind the screen and Julie began her presentation.
As I suspected, Julie was well prepared, poised and had thoroughly researched her topic. Her models would appear dressed in clothing appropriate to the historical period Julie was talking about. They would then disappear behind the screen to change. Of course the screen hid them from view, but not completely. Their silhouettes were still visible. Given that a major part of Julie's presentation centered on how women can use their skills to allure and fan the flames of desire as a method of asserting dominance over the relationship, it was a brilliant piece of performance art. It also wasn't wasted on me. Although I had never been attracted to a woman, I was distracted by her assistants enough to miss some of what she was saying. Several times I caught myself watching them instead of actively listening. Thankfully I had the tape to refer back to so I could hear what I missed.
The zenith of Julie's presentation found her assistants appearing dressed in leather. As Julie explained, Megan was playing the role of the mistress and Jackie was her slave. Both were provocatively dressed. Megan's outfit consisted of a bustier and boots. Jackie wore a leather bra and panty set but also a collar and had her hands cuffed in front of her. There was a chain, a leash I guess would be the proper term, wrapped around the cuffs and held taught by Megan. Immediately my interest picked up. How was Julie going to spin this?
She began by describing the lifestyle of BDSM. Having no practical knowledge of the subject myself, I couldn't tell if she was describing academic research or if she had firsthand experience, but I hung on every word. She described how some people are natural dominants, or tops, and how some people were submissive, or bottoms. I started to think how I treated my never-ending string of conquests. I was definitely in charge of those encounters, although I never had thought of "topping" one of the boys in the method Julie was describing. Still I knew I got a sexual thrill out of setting the terms of our rendezvoused so what she was saying struck a deep chord with me.
When she began to describe the submissive side of the equation I was struck with how a woman could allow herself to be treated as an object for the gratification of her partner. At this point Megan bent Jackie over the table where Julie's laptop was running the PowerPoint slides and began to lightly spank her. I knew it was a mock demonstration, but it was effective nonetheless. For the first time I pictured myself spanking one of the boys I picked up at the bar. I didn't know if it would be fun, but I understood the power trip Julie was describing. Still I wasn't sure how this lascivious display fit into her presentation on sexual liberation.
Fortunately for her, and me, she was prepared to answer that question without me even asking. The last section of her presentation was a description of how the true power in a BDSM relationship comes from the submissive consenting to serve the dominant. Again I had no practical knowledge of the subject but it made sense. Julie described how the submissive has the power to stop the relationship thereby depriving the top of their need to control. Absent of raping your partner, the will to consent to serving your master or mistress is where the real power in the relationship lies. In fact, Julie explained, for the submissive, the act of consent to voluntarily give up all choice as to what is happening is extremely liberating.
This was how she tied her entire presentation together. Throughout the ages, although she had focused on the 20th century, oppression of woman's sexual freedom was rampant. The law, sexual discrimination, sexual harassment and societal pressures kept women from being on an equal footing with men. However, as she noted, women have the power to control men through their use of sex and also to have a meaningful sexual life themselves.
Julie's presentation was powerful and moving. As she was packing up her laptop, Megan and Jackie changed back into their street clothes. Julie asked how the presentation went and I told her, honestly, that I wasn't 100% sure of her conclusions, but that she obviously had researched the material and presented it well. Since that was the main thing, I told her she would be getting a good grade. I then surprised myself by blurting out (Freudian slip perhaps) that I understood how a woman can take charge of any sexual situation.
This seemed to pique Julie's interest and she asked me to elaborate. I blushed a bit. I really had not wanted to discuss this with her, but since I'd accidently brought it up, I was trapped. I told her how since my husband had died I preferred the company of young men because they were simple. I told her they were easy to control, use and dispose of. She surprised me by asking if I found that satisfying. I told her that it was a good exchange. They made me feel pretty and desirable and I gave them life experience. She said I didn't understand her question and clarified it.
"But do they make you cum?"
I was stunned by her directness and paused uncomfortably before answering.
"No, usually not. I need to take matters into my own hands in that regard," I replied truthfully.
"Yeah, that's the problem with most boys," she added. "Sounds like you need a real man."
"Don't we all. Don't we all."
Julie agreed with me, but stated emphatically that she never had trouble finding a real man to keep her satisfied. I thought to myself that the way she looked, carried herself and with her father's money, of course you could have any man you wanted. But I held my tongue and kept my opinion to myself.
"Say Ms. M, tomorrow we're going to a party where there will be plenty of eligible men. Why don't you come with us?" she asked.
"I don't fraternize with students, Julie," I told her. "It's a conflict of interest."
"Come on, it will be fun. We've hung out before and besides, I've all but graduated."
"I don't know. Going out for coffee is one thing. Going out to pick up guys is another. Also, I was going to Boston tonight to meet some friends," I told her. It wasn't really a lie. Today was almost the end of my school year too and I was going to celebrate with a new conquest.
I watched as Julie pulled out a piece of paper and started writing something down.
"Here is my address and cell number. It's a house we rented for the school year. My roommate and I are planning to lounge by the pool in the afternoon, enjoy some cocktails and then go to the party. If you decide to come, just show up."
I told her I'd think about it and she, Megan and Jackie left. I had half an hour to reset for the final presentation.
That night as I was at the hunting grounds Julie's words about dominance and submission were running through my head. I had been doing my usual seduction dance on a group of boys from MIT. They were nerds in desperate need of sexual education. I knew I could wrap any of them around my finger. But Julie's explanations of the liberation in letting somebody else take charge kept invading my consciousness. There were also a few older men in the bar and one of them had confidently been staring at me as I played pool with the boys. Usually when I'd catch one of these guys staring I'd shoot them a look and they'd turn away. But this guy was different. He continued to watch me even when I was looking straight back at him. He had the same confidence I usually used on my prey.