Salvation

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A young man is taught a lesson by an older woman.
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Ilbfita
Ilbfita
103 Followers

I guess I was no different from any other guy growing up in the bad old '80's. Those were the days when greed was good, nice guys came second, and political correctness was yet to be thrust upon us.

Life in middle class suburbia was comfortable rather than excessive, but with the increasingly intrusive advertising and an ever growing focus on lifestyle, wealth, and success, it was easy for a young 18 year old guy like me to get a contorted view of the world. My stock standard reading material was Playboy and Penthouse, and most of my ideas, beliefs and attitudes came from those glossy pages of wisdom.

There were two types of women in the world I had decided; Babes and the rest. All women were dim-witted bimbos, but Babes were hot, were great to have sex with, and looked mighty good hanging off your arm. It was my ambition, no, my birthright, to bonk as many Babes as I could, and eventually secure myself one for a wife. In the meantime I had to work fairly hard at college so that I could get a good job, and thus attract a bevy of buxom babes from which I could make my selection.

As a result of my attitudes, I was generally very unpopular at college. I was regarded as something of an ass-hole by nearly all of the female students, and all of the Tutors. Yes, even the male Tutors despised me because of the derogatory way I talked about their wives and the female Tutors. None of my male Tutors were married to Babes, therefore, to my mind, they were all losers, and I told them so. I enjoyed pointing out the physical flaws in the dogs they had married. Male Tutors, who were not married, were of course branded as homosexuals or faggots as I preferred to call them.

The female Tutors automatically despised me because of the way I treated them. I was contemptuous to all but one of them. Yes, you guessed it; she was a Babe – the only Babe in the school.

Mrs. Susan James was one of the top Art Tutors. She was married and lived in our street. She was tall and slender, with a mane of rich, black waist length hair, and disproportionately large breasts, (otherwise known as normal breasts), beautiful brown doe eyes, and a knock out face and ass. (I wasn't sure which I valued more highly.) She had a look about her that was straight out of a centerfold, and I thought she was the hottest thing I had ever seen. Naturally, I gave her the respect she deserved and was always polite and helpful to her in class, and worked very hard to ensure I got top marks.

Often I cursed my rotten luck. If only I had gone to a college where there were more babes as tutors, I would have been one of the best students in the country. I grudgingly accepted my lot in life, but compensated for the raw deal I had received by spending as much time as humanly possible with Mrs. James. I mowed her lawns and cleaned her pool. Her husband was away a lot and she was grateful for my offers of assistance. After all, she was a Babe, so I didn't charge her any money for it. I knew I creeped her out a bit, and she was often quite standoffish, but I figured it was just her way of compensating for the natural animal magnetism she felt for me.

I couldn't wait for the day when we would inevitably have wild sex. Her husband would be out of town. It would be a hot day and I'd be stripped down to my waist, the sweat would make my skin shine in the sun, showing off my muscles and driving her insane with lust. She would invite me in. She would be wearing nothing but the tiniest of bikinis, as all women do when they're alone. Her breasts would push out from the confines of her D-cups and heave with each breath she took. We would sip champagne whilst she told me how lonely she was. Soft music would be playing in the background and I would listen to her and comfort her until I decided to press myself against her. She would resist me at first, but then she would give in to her animal desires and my overwhelming masculinity. I would fuck her brains out like she needed and deserved.

To be honest, I was becoming almost frustrated with her. I had given her ample opportunities to seduce me, but for some bizarre reason she seemed more interested in her painting or in the book she was reading. I did some further research in playboy and realized that I would have to be more forceful. Babes needed to know who was in charge, the article had said. Babes like guys who know what they want, it said. 'Go for it, you never know your luck' and 'There was no shame in rejection', it stressed. Rejection? As if!

I was at the time masturbating every night, and had read every playboy forum article of the last three years. I was confident that despite my lack of actual experience, I had all the required skills, knowledge and stamina as a lover to be able to give the bitch the doing over she needed. All I needed was the opportunity.

I devised a rough plan for our tryst. Friday afternoon was when I usually cleaned her pool. Her husband was still away, and my family would be out. I would get there early, finish the pool, and be there, sweaty and topless when she got home. Mrs. James would be tired from a hard week at school, and at this time I anticipated she would be most receptive to my advances. A good doofing from me would revitalize her and give her the pick-me-up she needed. It had also crossed my mind that as she would no doubt be desperate for more of me, once I'd given her the taste, we would have the entire weekend to fuck ourselves silly.

Naturally I told all the guys at school. I was something of a legend to them, and they eagerly listened to my plans and grunted and groaned with envy and pent up sexual aggression. Some of them advised caution, but I dismissed their advice. After all, what did they know about women? Who were they to tell me?

Friday afternoon came around quickly, and I finished off the pool as fast as I could, and waited for her return. She took longer that I expected, for it was at least an hour before her Volvo cruised into the garage. Luckily I had read an article the night before about masturbating before an important date, so that when it was time to perform for real, you were not too eager and didn't cum too quickly. I used the extra time I had to shoot off a load. I wasn't too concerned for her sake. I knew she'd enjoy being fucked by me. I was more concerned about my own enjoyment – I wanted it to last.

She had obviously been shopping as I saw her struggle with several bags. Carrying bags was woman's work, so I didn't bother to assist her. I used the time to adjust my tight khaki shorts to show off my tight buttocks, and stand outside her French windows. I made sure I found a sunny spot so that she would see my muscles shine and her primitive sexual desires would kick in.

I was furious when I heard the shower running. "That selfish bitch", I cursed to myself, but then I realized that it was probably a good thing. I preferred my women to be clean and fresh – I didn't care much for those hideous feminine odors I had read about!

I must confess, all this waiting in the sun had done little for my ardor, and I could sense my man meat shrinking and losing interest. Perhaps the wank had been a mistake? No. Playboy knows what it's talking about.

Suddenly her voice pierced my thoughts, and I looked up suddenly.

"What on earth are you doing?"

She asked, with an incredulous look on her face. I had several hundred smooth one liners in my repertoire, all of them guaranteed by penthouse to be dead set leg openers when used on the weaker sex. However at that point in time, I forgot every one of them.

You see she was the very vision of my every sexual fantasy. Her long black hair, still damp from the shower, hung down loosely around her shoulders. It was messy, and yet the best hairdresser in the world could not have styled her a more natural looking, wild, and wanton look. She was wearing a sexy black lace bra, and matching panties, with a garter belt which hooked onto a pair of sheer, black stockings. My mouth made like a goldfish, but no sound emerged, and my face reddened with embarrassment. I bet Hef never acted like this! I preyed that my composure would recover so that the sex could commence. Obviously she was hot for it! Fancy being such a slut as to dress up like that, just for my benefit!

"Strange you hanging around out here like this! Did you want something? You'd better come in, I'm in a hurry."

She said as she turned and disappeared from view. "In a hurry hey?", I thought to myself. "Gee, women these days are pretty straight-forward! Luckily for her I was in a hurry too, and I'd have my schlong pounding her bearded clam in no time at all". I followed her inside with legs made of jelly and a heart pounding like a big bass drum.

I waited in the living room excitedly. My mouth was as dry as a sand pit. I moved to go and get a drink of water, but I was halted as she re-appeared. She was carrying a pair of outrageously sexy black stilettos, and a sexy little black cocktail dress.

"So what were you doing hanging around out there, half naked? You looked a bit creepy. I was about to call the Police when I realized it was you."

She said. She had a deep, earthy voice which I normally found incredibly sexy, but I was acutely aware of the anger in her voice. I guess she was angry with me because she was fighting her innermost desires for me, but I was suddenly becoming less confident about this. Could it be that she was genuinely pissed off at me? "Na! She'll come around." I told myself.

Meanwhile she had reached into a cupboard and was bent over as she unfolded an ironing board and a small iron. Her perfect ass, clad in the tiniest and sheerest black lace bikini briefs stuck out proudly toward me. I know I was crazy not to give it a firm spank – obviously that's what she was hoping for, or maybe just a quick pinch would have done the trick. Everyone knows women love being slapped and pinched on the ass by guys, but I was confronted with having to come up with something intelligent to say. None of my amassed stick-mag wisdom seemed appropriate.

Here I was, confronted by an impossibly attractive woman, wearing the sexiest of outfits imaginable, and rather than leaping on top of her I was standing awkwardly behind her, trying to think up something to say.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that I finished the pool early."

I managed to say. It felt good to get the words out, to sound like a man again, a man confidently talking to a woman, which of course, I was. Things however were not quite going to plan. I distinctly detected some indifference toward me, not pretend indifference as with most babes, this seemed to be genuine, as if she really wasn't interested in me at all!

"So why didn't you go home?"

She asked, her beauty unable to mask the cold hard logic of her question.

"I...I...I... was waiting for you."

I stuttered like an infant. It was as if she was an adult, and I was merely a child!

"What for?"

Her tone was frank and accusing. It was if she was suggesting I had no cause to hang around her house once my job was completed. The nerve!

"I thought you might need me for...something else."

I answered. I didn't sound a suave as I wanted to. "Something else" was the phrase which was supposed to make her smile seductively and remove her bra. To be honest, I sounded more like a frightened little boy. I realized what a mistake I had made. Here I was thinking she was a Babe, when in reality, she was simply an adult female, who happened to conform to some media manipulated stereo-type. It didn't matter that she was sexy. It didn't matter that she was wearing sexy lingerie – she was a bitch and she was giving me a hard time. (The wrong sought of hard time.)

"Now why would you hang about half naked for nearly two hours on the off chance that I would want something else?"

She spoke as she ironed the delicate hem on the dress. Her focus was the dress, I was a mere irritation to her. How could that be? I folded my arms across my chest. This made me feel more assertive and allowed my biceps to bulge seductively. Something caught her eye. "At last!", my subconscious screamed at me. "Now she's taken the bait!"

But she was not admiring my biceps. Instead she was looking at my groin. She had a snarl on her lips that would have scared any man.

"What the hell is that?"

She asked, putting the iron on its stand and moving over to me. She squatted down in front of my groin. I had dreamed of her doing this, and my heart leapt for joy, even though I was still a little unsure of what was actually happening.

Not waiting for me to answer, she reached out with a finger to the front of my pants. My heart stopped beating. By the time I saw the wet patch it was too late. Some residual cum from my pre-emptive wank must have seeped out of me. She ran her finger over the wetness and then rubbed the liquid between her finger and thumb.

"Oh my God! That's semen! You dirty little pervert!"

She screamed at me. I hadn't expected that reaction. Didn't babes drink cum like it was water? She continued to shout at me, the anger so very evident in her eyes.

"You've being masturbating over me all afternoon. I suppose you were hanging around hoping to see me naked were you? Well have a good look! Is this what you wanted to see? Huh? Am I sexy enough for you? You pathetic, sexist, male-chauvinist pig! I am so disappointed and disgusted with you. I have defended you to all the other people at work. They think you are a pig, but I tell how clever and nice and helpful you are. And all the while I was simply a bit player in some sick little testosterone fueled fantasy of yours."

I felt very stupid. I loved looking at sexy women in lingerie, but they were always in magazines. How I longed for the security of my bedroom and those non-descript female images. I didn't like looking at a real woman quite as much. Especially one that was angry and shouting at me. I wanted to run out, but she hadn't finished with me yet. Even I had to accept that my dreams of a weekend of sex with her were fast fading.

"I know!"

She shouted, as if she had just had an idea. She sat down and put on the high heels she had brought out before. Then she started walking around me with slow, exaggerated steps. Her heels made a chilling clip, clop on the cold slate tiles.

"Is this what you wanted to see? Am I sexy? Is this how the girls look in Hustler or whatever trash it is you read? Is this what you thought you were going to see? Well, aren't you a lucky boy! Have a good hard look. Do I make you feel horny? Am I the object of your desires? Do you really think that a woman like me could ever be interested in a silly little boy like you?"

I felt anything but horny. I felt stupid and angry and hurt. Then she said something that made me feel sick to the stomach.

"Would you like to have sex with me? Huh? You wanna fuck me, big boy? You wanna give it too me like the slut I am? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

Each time she said "Huh!" she poked me in the chest. I gulped.

I should have been rock hard, but her trash talk only made me feel more stupid, and more inept. I suddenly realized how degrading my view of women must be not only for her, but for all women. I had only seen her as a piece of meat, a lay, a fuck, a Babe. I had overlooked the 30 years of life experience, the two divorces, the two miscarriages, and her battle with bulimia. I ignored her two university degrees, the three years she spent living and working in Paris, the number of paintings she had sold. I failed to notice dedication to her art and her teaching, her compassion, her empathy, and her dignity.

I was beginning to realize what a dickhead I was.

"So come on, get them off! I want to see that man meat you're going to feed me. You gonna give it to me doggy? What position you like? Huh?"

She now poked me in the chest with each word she uttered and I could tell that she was not kidding.

"No please, I'm sorry. Can't I just go?"

I pleaded.

"Aw, the widdle bwaby wants to gwo home to mummy, does he?"

She mocked me cruelly and laughed with delight on hearing the malice in her own voice.

"As soon as I see what I'm missing out on, big boy, you can go. So come on, show me what you've got."

She sat down smugly and raised an eyebrow as she waited. I fumbled with my button, then the zipper. The slick that had leaked from my cock from my earlier exertion was even more evident on my underwear. I preyed my cock would spring to life. In one sad corner of my severely dented male psyche, a tiny thought struggled for life. "Perhaps when she sees how magnificent your cock is, she will be begging you for it."

I doubted it. The moment had long since past. I gasped as I slid down my underwear to reveal my manhood to her. It was smaller than it had ever been. She burst out laughing. Tears of shame welled in my eyes.

"That's the tiniest, most inept little thing I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Now don't you dare move."

She hissed at me as she clip-clopped out of the room at high speed. Before I could work up the courage to run she was storming back into the room. In her hands she held a Polaroid camera.

"Now smile while I get some nice photos!"

She said in a happy, sing song voice, as she commenced snapping away. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I started to cry. I was a man of 18 and yet there I was, before the sex goddess of the century, balling like a child with my pants down around my ankles and my ridiculous penis flapping in the breeze.

"Now young man,"

She said, sitting back down on the lounge and shuffling through the six or seven photos she had taken of me. She paused and smirked at one or two of them, before returning her steely gaze to me.

"I am going to do you an enormous favor."

I opened my mouth to beg her not to show the photos, but she waved me away, and continued.

"I could give these out to the other students, or to your parents, or even the Police. I could ruin your life with these."

Her voice was soft yet hard, and she paused to let her words take effect. The only sound in the room was my sobbing.

"But instead what I shall do is grant you a wonderful new life. From this day forth, you shall treat all women with the respect. You will work extra hard in ALL your classes, and you will apologize to all the women you have ever offended. Is that clear?"

I nodded.

"If you do these things, you will find there is a world of great beauty out there, and not only will you learn to enjoy all that beauty, you can also become a part of that beauty. Do you understand?"

Again I nodded. I wasn't quite sure what she meant. Was she talking about Babes? Probably not, but I wasn't about to argue with her.

"You have a good brain, but you are squandering it at the college. If you lifted your game you could be accepted into one of the top Universities in the country. The day you get accepted into one of those places, is the day I give you all these photos back. If I hear you've been rude or nasty to ANYONE, and I mean anyone, I will have these photos xeroxed and distributed. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mrs. James. Thank you Mrs. James."

I bleated. She nodded and seemed satisfied.

"Right get your clothes on and get out. I'm late for a date with a REAL man."

She snapped at me and resumed ironing her dress, as if the whole episode had never occurred. I was still in shock. I just stared at her as she finished ironing and then slipped the little dress on. She looked sensational. In comparison I looked and felt miserable. What a pathetic failure of a man I was.

"Go on, I'm meeting my husband tonight in town, and we're spending the night at a hotel. You've already made me late, and yes, I know what you are thinking, we will be having sex. And do you want to know something else?"

Ilbfita
Ilbfita
103 Followers
12