More with Mrs. Grunewald

This is a sequel to The Kinky Mrs. Grunewald. I decided to post it in two parts.

In this part: After his abrupt, strange, and highly-charged BDSM encounter with his mature history teacher, high school senior Tom D'Amato has a leisurely conversation with her over drinks. He is one of a handful of scholarship students at an expensive private school, and he has never felt comfortable there. He is too naïve to realize how common older-women/younger men matches are, even if many of them don't last very long.

The second part of the story is about his next visit to her office on the following day, which I will post very soon. That contains the actual BDSM scene plus more. The location for this is in New York in the late spring of 1973.

******

When we got to the bar, I was still feeling uneasy, but Judith looked quite calm and composed. How many times had she been involved with students at the school? There was a yearly rotation of male seniors she could pretty much grab at will. I suspected that they didn't put up much if any resistance to her charms, especially if she used the bogus punishment lure that she used on me.

Are all men are basically sluts? I had read that from a woman writing somewhere. I knew I could easily be had by Mrs. Grunewald, and it wouldn't take much more prompting on her part. We were already into the initial stages of our affair. As soon as she had demanded to spank my bare behind, I had felt the first quiver of anticipation. It was really an offer in the form of a demand that she had made to me when I first entered her office.

I didn't have too much experience with alcohol, but I was glad to have it available for that meeting with Judith Grunewald later. I had never been on a date before and I wasn't used to sitting alone at a table with a woman, much less someone Judith's age.

It was a strange date, one in which we had already engaged in the first sex act, namely me ejaculating onto her lap. She had talked me into that first, and then later she had brought me to the bar. I was aware that she was in charge of what was happening between us. I wasn't sure I was comfortable with that, but I had no choice. Maybe I liked the situation more than I would admit to myself.

I thought, just relax, you're going to be okay with whatever she comes up with in the next few days. It some ways it was preferable to deal with an experienced, mature lady rather than a girl my own age who knew as little about sex as I did. If that had been true, I suspect there would have been a lot of fumbling around on both our parts.

Judith ordered a cosmopolitan while I perused the liquor menu. The simplest thing would have been to get a beer but I figured that I would look a bit unsophisticated with one of those. She must have noticed that I was a bit puzzled because said, "Why don't you just get a Manhattan?"

"All right, that sounds good." I had heard of the drink but I had never had hard liquor before nor did I know how that particular cocktail was made. We chatted briefly about school topics until our drinks arrived. Mine was in what looked like a martini glass; it contained a dark liquid.

She must have noticed my expression, because she asked me, "You do know what's in it, right?"

"Of course I do."

As I would notice later about her, she seemed to know when I was fibbing but she wouldn't call me out on my attempts to appear more worldly. Instead, she simply told me the main ingredients. "It's got rye whiskey with vermouth and a few other things. It's pretty strong, so go easy with it."

I wanted to know what was in her drink but I wasn't going to ask her. I tasted my own and it seemed pretty good. After we had sipped our drinks for a few moments, she pushed her glasses to the top of her head.

I knew why she had done that; she wanted me to see her uncovered face again. I tried not to flinch from her gaze. I was still unsure of how I should deal with her, but I had already gained -- perhaps not quite confidence, but maybe I'd call it a little assertiveness about being with her.

After all, she had given me an orgasm that afternoon, which was pretty heady stuff for a guy my age. Well, I arguably gave it to myself, but her spanking my ass at the same time had sexually inspired me. I wasn't in the same state of mind as when I had walked into the building that morning.

I noticed again that Judith wasn't a delicate-looking woman, and that went for her face too. Of course, I tried to imagine what she looked like twenty years earlier when she was near my age. She gave me a few moments to look back at her, and then she said, "I guess I owe you my age. I mean I'm not one of those ladies who makes a big deal about it. I'm thirty-nine right now."

I did a quick calculation in my head, and I knew she had probably been a high school senior around 1952. She was still pretty good-looking, but I concluded that she must have been stunning back then. It struck me that had I been that age at the same time, she likely wouldn't have had anything to do with the likes of me. Now that she was older and probably lonely, maybe a young guy like me didn't look like such a bad deal, even for a fling.

Rather than dwell on that, I said, "So your college class must have been, what, 1956?"

"Yes, I was Barnard, '56." That was the year after I had been born, in fact.

Yet I was impressed, "Barnard is a really good school." Had I had been older, I would have been more careful about giving out compliments.

She shrugged, "Well, we all had to go somewhere." Perhaps I appreciated that she wasn't bragging about it. Then she said, "So Tom, could I ask you a few things, mainly about your experiences at Pierpont? These questions might seem a bit personal."

I tried to appear relaxed too, even though I didn't feel that way. "Sure, go ahead."

"Well, I've noticed that your, ah, dating experiences at Pierpont have been pretty much non-existent." How the hell did she know that? I didn't realize that women were usually well attuned to social circumstances like that one.

"No, I've had a few dates." I didn't say where or with whom.

As before with the drink ingredients, she knew I was fibbing, but she pressed ahead. "Most of the girls at our school are pretty stuck-up, although they try to pretend that they're not. I know it can be a bit difficult for the scholarship students here, and there are only eight of you in your class."

She had pinpointed one of my issues with the place. I complained about it, "Right, and only one of them is female, that Cynthia Brillstein girl. I've tried to chat her up, but I haven't gotten very far."

"And she's painfully shy, I know. But, in any case, you don't know how to approach women."

That rankled me a bit. Yet the truth was that Judith had approached me, although in a very unconventional manner. "So Tom, what do you think of me, I mean as a woman?"

How am I supposed to answer that? I didn't realize that this was a common test women would use on men, although perhaps it was a bit unfair to use it on somebody my age. Probably it was purely instinctual of her part.

Anyway, I didn't want to say that I had spun some fantasies involving her already. At eighteen, one will masturbate about just about anyone who might be plausible. I answered as honestly as I could. "I'm not sure. I guess I mostly thought of you as my teacher."

"But I'm not just your teacher, am I? I mean, this afternoon I saw, well I saw you climax and it was quite a sight to behold."

Wow, that was pretty blunt. From the way she was grinning at me, I knew she didn't mind getting me somewhat rattled. I did my best to hide it with a joke, "Well, you certainly did your best to make it happen." I almost couldn't believe I had said that, but she chuckled and seemed to take it very well.

"And you certainly enjoyed every moment of it!" Right then, she ordered another cosmopolitan. Yeah, like you need another one of those. I had finished only half of my Manhattan, and I was already feeling the effects of it.

She said, "You're blushing again, you know."

Why deny it? "I know, I can feel it in my face." Well, I was an inexperienced eighteen-year-old, so I felt I deserved some slack.

"Tom, you young guys think only chicks your age have any sexual desires. But we older gals can hold our own, as you must be learning by now."

In an attempt to deflect her, I said, "I was going to ask you something. Is there a Mr. Grunewald in your life?"

"No, not for a while. I've been divorced for four years now."

So that may have been part of it. I bet this dame hasn't been laid since her separation. I didn't know much about it, but I guessed that serious dating opportunities for thirty-nine-year-old ladies weren't that good. But did that mean as a teacher, she could go around seducing her students?

She must have been a step ahead of me, "You don't think I'm too old, do you?"

Too old for who or for what? For me? I managed to say, "No, I'd just say mature."

She must have liked that because she laughed and put her glasses back in place. It struck me that she had done that to get a better look at me now. I could see her assessing me. "You're kind of cute, you know."

That was news to me because I had never heard a female of any age make a positive comment about my appearance -- or any comment, in fact. I guess I wasn't that bad, objectively, but I wasn't tall or muscular either. I had assumed those were the physical attributes that women, including older ones like this Judith person, went for.

She was getting well into her second cosmopolitan, so I figured I'd hear in a moment what she saw in me. It didn't seem that I needed to know any of that, but I was going to get it anyway. I didn't have to wait long. "You have such intense dark eyes." She playfully flicked the hair sticking out of the side of my head. "You certainly could use a haircut, however."

"All guys my age need a haircut." I tried to put a lilt into my voice to show that I was joshing with her.

"And as I said earlier, you have such a nice taut backside; it was a pity I had to punish it so harshly. And that beautiful big cock of yours would go to waste with the silly girls in this school."

It was oddly funny to hear myself being described as some kind of natural resource. She was talking like the horny older lady that she really was; she wasn't acting at all like my history teacher by that point. I figured it was okay to play along with her various games. We were in a bar, not the school, so I decided to push back with my own provocations.

"Mrs. Grunewald, you're giving me a boner again, you know that?"

"Of course, I'm not surprised." She noticed that my glass was empty. "Would you like another Manhattan? Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

It seemed unchivalrous to have a lady pay for my drinks, but I was a student and she was the one with a job. I perhaps was overly polite, "Yes, thank you, I'd like one."

When I had it, she continued, "I know you were looking at me when I sat on my desk. You obviously were trying to look under my skirt, but I was a tease about it and I wouldn't let see too much."

I blurted out, "You knew that?"

"I sure did. You see, while you were noticing what I was doing, I in turn was noticing what you were doing." She smirked at me, "I bet you were trying to see my panties through the crotch of my stockings."

It was a little disconcerting to imagine us both scoping each other out. She had known exactly what I had been doing.

"Tom, one of the things you've got to learn is that we ladies are far ahead of you guys at figuring out any social situation. Don't feel bad, it's just the way it is. But I've known for a while -- well it was an educated guess, I'd say -- that you're pretty kinky too and you may have known that about me too."

I think she was on what's called a "fishing expedition," but I was still impressed that she had figured that out. "Really? How is that?"

"Let's talk about you first and then we'll get to me."

I contradicted her; I had to know her thoughts about something. "Well, that punishment session you did with me today, what led you to that?"

"Well, your misdeed was fiction but the punishment was real enough. Don't worry, a lot of men are into submitting their rear ends to the wrath of a stern lady. How do you think dominatrices make a living? There are more of such men than you might think."

I hardly knew a thing about dominatrices, but I didn't want to admit it.

She went on, "It was a guess on my part, but now I know but I certainly got it right, didn't I? With my first smacks, you were already rubbing your cock against my skirt. A few minutes later, you were -- well you know."

I wanted to apologize but I didn't want to overdo it. "I couldn't help it."

"Of course, sweetie, I know you couldn't help it. And in fact, your ejaculations were quite impressive; I was very pleased that it worked so well. Obviously, I enjoy spanking young men on their bare backsides." I wondered if she had already done it before, or if she was indulging in a bit of hyperbole. "The skirt -- well, that's why there are dry cleaners."

She had reacted to my splooging on her clothes with remarkable aplomb, but during the first moments, we both knew that was exactly what was going to happen.

She leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Now, you've noticed that I have some pretty strong fetishes myself, and I'm a rather kinky lady. I've been very naughty and I need a good spanking too. And you are the right person to do it."

The phrase coming attractions flashed through my mind. It was uncanny how she had dug into the recesses of my mind and revealed my secret thoughts. Yes, I had already imagined spanking her in turn. I was trying not to look too obvious about it.

My left hand was on the table, and she put both of her hands on top of it. For I second, I almost pulled back, but then I let her warm touch push down on me.

I was looking at our hands, not her face, when she said, "I can tell by your expression that I'm right about your proclivities, let's call them that." I did look at her, and she batted her eyelashes or made some other indication that said, Tom, I know more about what's going on here than you do. Just go with the flow.

She went on, "Now, the next time we meet, you will owe me -- well, I'll fill you in on the details as needed. I think when some women such as myself reach a certain age, we throw off our girlish inhibitions and do whatever we want."

She had a follow-up. "Let's face it, Tom, you need some initiation into the adult world, and I'd be honored to do it." She lowered her voice and got a bit coy. "Besides, it's going to be a lot of fun!"

I sipped my drink again; I needed a moment to think. There was something brazen, off-putting even, about this Judith Grunewald person. Maybe I was shocked that this respectable-looking lady, and my teacher to boot, had been revealing her lust and her kinky needs so openly.

Is there anything this woman won't say to me? I also understood that most men, if some pussy was going to be thrown around, even thirty-nine-year-old pussy, would grab it. We both knew that I was no different.

I think she grasped something about what was going on. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being a bit much and it's bothering you a bit. Maybe we should relax; decompress a bit."

When we were outside on the street, she finally put her arms around me and started kissing me. She went on for a longer time than she had upstairs, and it felt great. I could have done that for a long time with her, but she abruptly pulled back and said, "Bye sweetie, I'll see you in class tomorrow." Then she started to walk away and she didn't look back.

I tried to assess what had happened in the last couple of hours. It wasn't anything like how I thought my first encounter with a woman to go -- for one thing, I had certainly expected it to be with a girl my own age

Maybe tomorrow she'll act like it had never happened. She'll go back to being what had I assumed a normal middle-aged woman was like. But I knew I was kidding myself, and she wasn't going to change her mind overnight.

In fact, I didn't want her to change her mind. I wanted what this lady seemed to be offering me. It was time to get some experience in life. That night, in my bed, I masturbated twice thinking about what she was going to teach me in the coming days, and I knew it wasn't going to be about history.

***********

The next day Mrs. Grunewald was a few minutes late getting to class. When she walked in, she didn't even look at me. As she made some preliminary remarks while standing behind her desk, and then writing something on the blackboard, I took note of what she was wearing.

That day she had a dark blue suit, dark nylon stockings, and black shoes. There was one anomaly; her jacket was buttoned, something I had never seen her do before. It never occurred to me that she might be hiding something under there for my benefit.

It was otherwise a routine class. She spent most of the time standing up and writing on the blackboard. That was one of those days when she didn't sit on the front of her desk in the middle of a lecture.

I didn't want to catch her eyes, and she seemed to avoid looking at me too. At one point the thought came to me, this lady has seen me have an orgasm. I tried to put that out of my mind, but once it occurred to me, I couldn't shake the idea.

There was one point when I raised my hand to make some comment, and she did acknowledge me and let me speak. I think I had done that in every class I had with her that semester, and it seemed best not to call attention to myself by not doing it. I knew I was being a bit paranoid, but I didn't know what to do or expect in that situation.

When the class ended, I got up like everyone else in the room. Then I looked towards Judith, who was standing up behind her desk. That time she did look directly at me, and she subtly crooked a finger for me to come over. So I guess she hasn't forgotten about me.

Perhaps I was a bit discombobulated because I dumbly pointed to myself. Me? She nodded, yes, you.

I walked over to her as casually as I could. She didn't say anything until everyone else had left the room. Then she turned to face me and leaned against the edge of her desk.

"Why don't you come to my office a little later today, say around 4:30 or so?"

"Ah yeah, I suppose that would be all right."

"Did you have something to eat during that extra hour you had yesterday?"

"I did, I went to a diner."

"Well, I'll take you out to dinner later if that's okay with you."

"Sure, whatever you say." I thought, later, after we do what? I didn't even wonder what I'd do with my free time until 4:30.

Unlike the day before, she didn't put on the stern act I had seen her perform. It occurred to me that she was using the same tone of voice as if she wanted me to change the ribbon in her typewriter.

She had one more thing to say, "Tom, you look like you're on tenterhooks. You know what that means, right?"

I didn't think I looked nervous, but she had picked up on my mood. I tried to deny it. "No, I'm okay."

In the same level voice, she said, "I'll have a glass of wine for you when you get there." At that age all I'd ever consumed was beer, plus the Manhattan the evening before. She continued, "Okay, dearie, I'll see you later."

I knew I had been dismissed, and I had nothing to say in reply. On my way out, it finally struck me that she had called me dearie. What did she really think of me, and why was she slowly seducing me? Three years later, when I was in college, I heard that Bob Seger line, I used her and she used me, and neither of us cared. I was immediately reminded of my eccentric but horny former history teacher.