tagMatureThe Matrons of Regal Bay Ch. 25

The Matrons of Regal Bay Ch. 25

bySteinWolf8©

The Matrons of Regal Bay

Chapter 25

Cynthia's Tales -- Part 2

The lights came up as the power-point presentation ended. Cynthia Price stepped out from behind the desk in the corner of the small lecture hall and looked out into the crowd of students to insure none had fallen asleep. She doubted many students could sleep through her presentation on Erotica in the Modern World. It was one of her more graphic and exploitive presentations.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I expect many of you found that exciting. Others, maybe a little disturbing." She moved to stand behind the lectern just to the left of the presentation screen. Cynthia had worn her tan pants-suit that day, with a black blouse beneath. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a loose bun at the back of her head, and she had worn her glasses that day as well, forgoing her usual contacts. "As I had mentioned at the top of the hour, the assignment is a simple one. Take any one of the images you just witnessed and write a paper describing your emotional reactions, from the first impulse you had to how you felt after reasoning through it. You can find every one of these scenes and images on the internet, of course. Where do you think I found them?" A spattering of laughs rolled through the students, as it was well known to them that Dr. Price enjoyed searching the internet for erotica, porn, and anything else of a sexual nature, and she encouraged them to do so as well.

Cynthia Price, PhD. That is what the name plate on her office door read. Cynthia had earned her Doctorate of Philosophy at the University of Alabama, and now instructed classes in the fields of Sexuality in Society, Sexual Morality through History, and Sexual Deviance at Regal Bay University. What her name plate didn't include was her self-diagnosed hyper sexuality, or more commonly, nymphomania. Cynthia had gotten into her chosen field because she enjoyed sex in all forms, functions, and styles, and enjoyed reading about it, watching it, and knowing how it affected those around her.

It was common place for Dr. Price, Cynthia, to suddenly toss a question out to her students in the middle of a lecture, just to see the expressions on their faces change. "Tell me, how would your image of your mother change if, for instance, you were to come home unexpectedly and find her on her hands and knees in the middle of the kitchen being humped by the neighbor's dog?" Or she would ask, "Would you keep a friend's secret from their significant other, if you knew that they were having sex with that person's parent?" She noted that, as the semester would roll on, the reactions her students presented would become more muted, as they became less shocked by her assignments and more thoughtful.

One of the first assignments each class received to start a course was to write a paper describing the first time they had sex, whether it involved a family member, and if they had followed up with additional encounters. Cynthia enjoyed these on a more personal level, as these papers often pointed out to her those young students who would be open to enjoying a little more excitement, by way of the Regal Bay Matrons Club. Cynthia had long held the self-appointed position as recruiter for her follow sorority members, and through her efforts several young men and women had enjoyed a relationship they may never have had otherwise. And a few of the older women of Regal Bay were given access to a young lover they themselves may never have encountered otherwise. Cynthia enjoyed putting people together like this, as both a contributor as well as an observer. Not to mention those times she actively participates, for both personal research as well as pleasure.

Cynthia had known for many years that once her son had matured, he would become her lover. The history of incest was most intriguing to her. She molded her son's way of thinking about sex and his own sexuality, day by day and year by year, and over the course she took ardent notes. Just weeks after their first sexual encounter, which had taken place over a holiday weekend in Las Vegas coinciding with his eighteenth birthday, Cynthia had begun work on the paper that would eventually gain her fame within the sociological community as well as a bit of a fortune from the follow-up book she published. Of course, any reference to herself and her son, and their intimacy, was left out. Names were changed to protect the innocent, and all of that jazz.

With tenure now, Cynthia Price was set for life at Regal Bay, and continued her research into Human Sexuality, Sexual Deviance, and Sexual Morality daily, all the while enjoying herself. Hers was a personal and professional life style few in her field could even imagine, let alone obtain. She enjoyed reading about other people's sexual experiences, and compared how they reacted to how she might, if placed into a comparable situation. And Cynthia had found herself in many, many situations when it came to human sexuality.

Looking out across the many faces of young students from behind her lectern, Cynthia took note of those she had particular knowledge of. Of the thirteen young men in that class, three she knew had enjoyed the trappings of the Matrons Club already. And of those three, one she had personal knowledge of. In fact, she'd enjoyed a nature hike just that previous Sunday afternoon with Wesley Griffith. And he had enjoyed bending her over a trail-side bench and fucking her through two orgasms.

Randy Hayworth, son of her friend and hair-dresser Lisa Hayworth, had only recently been brought to her attention as being a potential stud for the sorority. Cynthia had learned about Randy's sins, first with his younger sister, and then with his mother, within the past month. As told to her by her friend Lisa, it had been she herself who had made the first sinful move upon her son, though Cynthia was quite certain from talking with Lisa to some extent, that it had been Randy's intent all along to take his mother. Having sex with his sister had only been a substitute for his true intentions, and Cynthia had conveyed this theory to Lisa. She had pointed out that Lisa's feelings of jealousy had been stoked by her son and by his incestual affair with his sister, when he knew that Lisa would catch them. By not confronting her children while in the act, Lisa had unwittingly given Randy the opening he had wanted, either consciously or not. Just because she had made the first move wasn't because he hadn't initiated it.

At the time, Lisa was upset to learn that she had been manipulated by her son, and yet she had confided in Cynthia that she had no intention of ending their affair, at least not for the short term. Cynthia was happy for that, since she was already at work on another paper, with Lisa and her children the focus. However, Cynthia was hungry for a taste of young Mr. Hayworth herself, and after hearing directly from his mother/lover about his sexual prowess, she decided that a first-hand experience was in order.

The chimes signaling the end of period rang and the stampede of students began. Cynthia had moved towards the exit, smiling and nodding at several of the young men and women who passed by, giving words of encouragement to others, as well as salutation. This class, Emotional Sexuality, met only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and she would not be seeing most of these students until the next Tuesday. Only a handful of her female students also attended her Monday afternoon Sexual Morality and Theology course, her least populated course.

"Evening, Mrs. Price," Andy McCoy said as he passed by.

"Have a nice weekend, Andy," she replied. Andy McCoy was a tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed beach bum who also had a gift for visual media. Andy's mother, Heather, worked as a real estate agent, but Cynthia was aware of her past life as a porn actress. Whether Andy was, she had yet to determine. It seemed interesting that he was majoring in Media Studies, yet taking Human Sexuality as his sociology credit.

Randy Hayworth was walking with two young women as he passed, talking. "Mr. Hayworth. A word if I may?" Cynthia called. Randy paused and gave her a glance, and then said something to each of the women before moving to stand before her.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he asked politely, though with a hint of annoyance.

Cynthia waited as the last few students filed past before answering. "I would like to discuss your last paper with you. Is there a time when we could have a meeting that is good for you?"

Randy looked very concerned in that moment, even glancing to either side to insure nobody else was near. "I don't know. I'm pretty much free every afternoon after my four o'clock classes. After five, really." He paused before adding, "I don't know if I want to talk about it. I probably shouldn't have put all of that stuff down."

"Really, it's fine, Randy," Cynthia soothed. "I was very impressed with your descriptions, especially of your own views and emotions. I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions I have, about a couple of points that you left open. It will have no impact on your grade, mind you. I'd just like to follow up, you understand." She gave him her warmest, most sincere smile. Underneath, she was feeling her juices boiling, however. And it had absolutely nothing to do with his recent paper on masturbation.

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" she asked.

"I can't, not tomorrow. I've got to work." Randy gave his watch a glance, checking the time. "I could stop by your office today, I guess."

Cynthia smiled. "That would be wonderful. Can I expect you shortly after five, then?"

Randy nodded. "I'll be there, but I can only stay a brief time. I've got a date tonight."

"You'd better get going," she then said. "You don't want to be late for your next class. What would that be, by the way?"

"Media studies," he replied even as he was headed out the door.

With the last of the students gone, Cynthia made a quick sweep of the room to insure no one had left anything behind before shutting out the lights and closing up. Cynthia had just over two hours until her meeting with Randy, and with no other classes scheduled for that afternoon, she retired to her office. After locking the door, she dimmed the office lights and pulled out the small case her son had given her some time back and removed one of the hand-rolled cigarettes she had purchased just that morning. Settling in behind her desk, she lit up and inhaled deeply, and holding the smoke deep in her lungs she felt the relaxation her favored brand of herb provided her with. She leaned back into the lumbar support of her chair and closed her eyes.

Cynthia's cell phone buzzed, drawing her out of her meditation. She noted that she'd been zoned out for nearly forty-five minutes, and the bud of her cigarette smoldered in the ashtray on her desk. She checked her phone's display before answering.

"Hello, Fionna! How are you?" she greeted.

"Just calling to remind you that we are having a meeting this evening," the woman on the other end said. "We're meeting at the Club, in our usual room, at eight o'clock, if you are free?"

"I should be. I haven't any plans, other than a short meeting here in my office with a student."

"A short meeting, you say?" Fionna laughed. "I'll just bet. Anyone I know?"

"Possibly. We'll have to see. He's promising, though," she added. "I'll let you know how things turn out this evening."

"You'd better," Fionna replied. "And be sure not to spare the details, darling." With that, Fionna Bekker, the university's professor of Literary Theory as well as Theatre and Media Arts Criticism, rang off. Cynthia liked Fionna and they got along well. Fionna was the current unofficial lead matron of their secretive, sinful sorority. Although Gloria Van Winkle and her sisters-in-law were the founders and still very active in the sorority, it was left to the next generation, so to speak, to organized the dinner-meeting each month at the Golf Club. On these evenings, several of the membership could enjoy a night out, share intimate tales of recent trysts, and maybe pass on a bit of information or even a name and phone number of an available young man to others. Cynthia had a couple to share, and may yet add to that list before the day was through.

Cynthia had just retrieved a Pepsi from her office under-counter refrigerator when there was a knock at her door. "Come in," she called, even as she remembered that she'd locked it. The knob was being turned as she added, "Oh, just a moment." And as she pulled the door open to find Randy Hayworth standing in the hallway, she explained, "I'm sorry. I had forgotten I'd locked it. Do come in and have a seat."

Cynthia had shed her suit jacket, leaving it hanging on the rack behind the door. She had also released the top two buttons of her blouse, and as she moved back behind her desk, she could feel the blouse open slightly as she bent. If Randy was looking, he'd have gotten a good look at her c-cup breasts, though encased as they were in her black bra.

Taking a brief drink from the cold beverage, she began. "Randy, I asked you here this afternoon for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to compliment you on your recent paper. It was wonderfully written and very graphic. I like that, as you know."

"Thank you," he replied, obviously uncomfortable. Cynthia had paused, looking at him hard with a slight grin on her face. He had trouble meeting her gaze and felt himself blushing.

"You can relax, Randy. I'm not going to bite," she laughed. "Unless you like that sort of thing?"

Randy looked up to find her smiling even wider. "I had two reasons for bringing you in," she told him. "And the second deals with your mother."

"My mother?" he croaked. Randy knew that his mother did Dr. Price's hair, along with many of the women faculty from the university. What he didn't know was that his mother and Cynthia were good enough friends to share intimate secrets. Since he and his mother first started having sex, Randy had been careful about whom he'd bragged to. And other than Johnny Walker, who he had shared her with, and still owed him a shot at Johnny's mother, Randy hadn't told anyone else. Even his sister Alyssa, with whom he was also sleeping with at times, didn't know that he'd had sex with their mother. And now here he sat, in front of a grinning Sex Ed professor, who had just brought up his mother as a conversation point.

"You are aware that your mother, Lisa, and I are good friends, are you not?" Cynthia asked. "And as such, sometimes girls tend to talk about their relationships. Recently, your mother had to get something off her chest, and after a couple of false starts, she eventually admitted to me that she had taken you as a lover."

Randy was ashen faced at having his secret exposed, let alone being informed of it by one of his professors. He suddenly wondered just how many of his mother's friends knew about it.

Sensing such a chain of thoughts in him, Cynthia calmed him. "Rest assured, your secret is safe with me, Randy. As far as I know, Lisa hasn't told anyone else. I guess that, given my field of study, she was comfortable opening up to me. And I assured her that your sinful story will remain a guarded secret, for as long you like." Cynthia leaned back in her chair to give Randy a moment to absorb what she had said, as well as give him an opportunity to notice that her blouse was slightly more open. Her cleavage was well tanned from frequent sessions in the back yard as well as in her private tanning bed. She had no tan lines, top or bottom.

For his part, Randy had noticed that Cynthia's blouse was open, and he began to wonder if it was intentional, and inviting. He was feeling a bit uncomfortable, though the wicked thoughts that had begun to dance around in his head were just fantasies. Things like that just didn't happen in real life. Besides, why on Earth would a mature, middle-aged woman, his professor in fact, ever take a notice of him? She was beautiful, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and had a body that Playboy would offer serious money to place on their cover. Randy realized embarrassingly that she was speaking, and he was staring at her ample breasts.

"Uh, excuse me?" he stammered.

"First off, my face is up here, not on my chest," she smiled, though her hands were seemingly presenting her breasts for his view. "Secondly, I asked if you'd enjoy joining a study group to earn extra credit for my classes."

"Um, what kind of group?" he asked. "What would we be talking about?"

Cynthia leaned back in her chair, conscious that her blouse parted ever so slightly to reveal just a bit more of her cleavage. And of course, Randy's eyes flicked downward to take it in. "It's a small group that includes young men, such as you, and older women who are in one of my adult learning courses. We discuss the sexual relationships between generations and touch on subjects that you seem to be acquainted with."

"You mean, there are other guys that like to have sex with their mothers?" Randy asked.

"Not just their mothers, Randy. There are those that enjoy their aunts, even grand-mothers. And it's not just a one-way street, either. The women talk about their cravings for younger men, even those the ages of their sons, and grand-sons." She paused to let him take it in.

"My own son, David, attends," she told him. After just a moment, she could see that he wanted to ask her the obvious question. She smiled. "Yes, Randy. That does in fact mean that David and I have engaged in incest." She leaned forward, as if to include him in her secret, though they were quite alone in her office. "We still do, as often as we get the chance." She left him with a wink, and then settled back again, awaiting his reply.

Randy was at a loss for words. Here he sat, in his professor's office, and she had just told him flat out that she was having sex with her son. Just like he was having sex with his mother. And evidently, they weren't alone in their sins.

"I'd get extra credit?" he asked. "I don't have to talk, do I? Tell what I...me and my mom...do?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Randy. That is the entire point of the group. To talk about our affairs, to share our pleasures, and to meet others who share in them. Yes, you would have to talk, tell your story, and listen to others. We don't right papers or discuss outside of the group what we talk about. Everything is strictly confidential. I make notes and will be recording the tales that are told, but other than that, what's talked about in the classroom, stays in the classroom. For the most part." Again, she showed a secretive grin, one that hid much, Randy figured.

"If you join this group," she further explained, "you will almost assuredly be scored a 4.0 for the semester, for each semester you are enrolled in any of my courses." She opened a file folder that had been sitting on her desk. It was his with his course records in it. "And given your inferior performance in class thus far, you very well could use the extra credit this semester." She closed the file and waited, looking at him silently.

It didn't take him long to make up his mind. "I guess I could try it out. Finish out this semester."

"I'd like that, Randy," she grinned. "You'd be starting a little behind, but I'm sure I can think of a way to get you up to speed." Cynthia paused, her eyes on Randy as he awaited her next move. When it came, it wasn't what he had expected.

Cynthia rose and ran her hands down her blouse. "I understand that you have no issue with older woman, so I am hopeful that you would not have an issue with me, either." Cynthia moved from behind her desk around to the side. "Let's get a little more comfortable, Mr. Hayworth. Come, sit with me over here." She presented her hand to him, and Randy took it, rising as he did to follow Cynthia across the office to a small two-seat office divan. She remained standing as Randy took a seat.

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