Mrs. Grunewald in Action

"You were playing a role yesterday, right?"

"Briefly, yes. But some of these professional ladies can be quite, ah, severe. They will cane or paddle a guy; it's amazing that some of their clients don't just pass out from the pain inflicted on them."

"How do you know about that?"

"I've seen some European magazines, especially the ones from England that are very explicit on the subject."

"Do you still have any of them?"

"Not here, but I have a few of those publications at my apartment."

"Hey, can I come by and look at them?"

She looked at me over the top of her glasses. "Hah, trying to pull a smooth move on me, aren't you?"

I realized I had no idea where she lived. Then I wondered if she had everything with me all planned out, or if she was improvising events from day to day.

She had something else to tell me. "My now-departed husband -- Bob was his name -- would never spank me even when I was naughty and asked him to do it to me. He said, 'no, that's just perverse.' "

"You told me last night that you were divorced. Did you ever spank him?"

"He certainly deserved it at times, but no, he found that weird too. Believe me, that wasn't the only problem in our marriage." I didn't ask her what those other issues were.

Then she revealed something else to me that I didn't expect. "Since I'm telling you so much about myself, I should also mention that Bob and I share custody of our daughter, Veronica."

"Wow, you have a daughter?"

"Don't get too excited, she's a bit too young for you. Besides, you are already getting rather involved with Mommy."

"It didn't occur to me to even meet her, I swear."

"Tom, you do have the ability to sound completely convincing but somehow, I know you're not faking it."

"Is she with you now?"

"For the next few days, yes, until Sunday. Bob lives in Brooklyn Heights. Anyway, you obviously are not coming to my apartment before then."

I hadn't even thought of her apartment yet; everything with Judith seemed to be moment to moment, although maybe I had misjudged her. I don't think the term had been invented yet, but Mrs. Grunewald certainly fit the definition of a MILF.

After chatting for a few more minutes, she said. "Well, I did promise to take you to dinner this evening. Are you ready to go?"

"Sure, I'm ready."

I had some other things to ask her about, like the way she had handled my most recent orgasms, but I figured we could talk about that at the restaurant

Meanwhile, she started to get dressed, and she was very brisk and efficient about it. I noted that was also the way she taught her classes. She made sure to button her jacket to cover her breast-revealing blouse.

As for me, I hadn't even removed my sports coat, so I had little to do to get ready. Just as we were about to leave, she took my hand in hers. Then she pulled me close and started to kiss me warmly.

I said, "It would be nice if we kissed before the sex, or whatever it is we're going to be doing."

"I should have known, you are a true romantic."

On the way out I wondered what she was becoming to me -- a lover, a girlfriend, a teacher of sex, a friend with benefits. I suppose at eighteen I didn't care. Finally, something sexually satisfying is happening at this venerable but pretentious old school.

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