The Kinky Mrs. Grunewald

"It is a truth universally accepted that most young males have had at least one teacher or aunt crush as they sexually mature. This desire to please and serve an attractive woman who commands and must be obeyed is a universal sexual fantasy for men. Sensual domination or role play as being a naïve guy introduced to sexual pleasure is often the first motivator that lures men to a dominatrix. Common practices include spanking or other types of corporal punishment common in schools and homes."

I recently found that quote on some obscure website that was trying to answer the question, "Why Do Men Like Dominant Women When It Comes to Sex?" But, yes, I can testify to the truth of that statement because it happened to me years ago when I was young.

It turned out that as a virginal high school senior, my first sexual experiences were not with a fellow student or with a professional dominatrix. Instead, it was with my kinky history teacher, who was thirty-nine at the time. All of this happened just a couple of months before my graduation.

I was not happy to be eighteen years old and yet I had never had a single date with a girl. By the late spring of 1973, we were supposedly living in a sexually liberated world, but I wasn't getting any of the benefits that I thought everyone else was enjoying.

Rather than blame myself, I used the rationalization that I, Thomas de Matteo of Elmhurst, Queens was a scholarship student at a private school in Manhattan, the Pierpont School. There were only eight such students in a class of nearly two hundred. Only one of them was a girl, and she was so shy and quiet that I made no progress with her.

My excuse was that I didn't fit in socially with the higher-class regular students whose parents could afford the tuition. It was true that they were polite and too well-bred to openly scorn me, but maybe it was actually that I felt intimated by most of them. I had trouble interacting with them at anything above the most superficial level.

I imagined that I would have been happier and less lonely at one of New York's specialized public high schools, but when the scholarship for Pierpont came through, I took it. The choice I made at the beginning locked me into that place for the next four years.

In any case, I planned to get out and then start fresh at Queens College, one of the many units in CUNY, the city university system. I don't think any Pierpont graduate had ever chosen to attend a CUNY school before. But I believed that, among other things, that I'd meet some girls there who had more in common with me than the ones at Pierpont.

Yet, near the very end, the Pierpont School did provide me with the lover, or at least the sexual partner, that I had been seeking. But to my surprise, it was not one of my classmates. And it was anything but a conventional romance.

******

In the spring of 1973, I had a European history class with Mrs. Judith Grunewald. I found out later that Mr. Grunewald had been banished from her life by a divorce, but she had not returned to her maiden name. Even though she was quite mature -- I found out later that she was thirty-nine -- I sometimes brought her into my nightly masturbation fantasies.

Before her, my favorite older lady was a celebrity, Elizabeth Montgomery of all people. But then I met Mrs. Grunewald, and she soon became my MILF of choice. (Of course, the term hadn't been invented yet.)

I first noticed her because I enjoyed the subject matter and she certainly knew her stuff. She, in turn, noticed me, although I was mostly unaware that she had. It was the class I participated in more than any other. I wasn't just sitting there taking notes or simply looking bored. My young eyes had trouble assessing older people's ages but I guessed -- correctly -- that she must in her late thirties.

If one simply saw Mrs. Grunewald on the street, one would have assumed that she was a respectable professional lady. In fact, to me, she was what a teacher or professor should look like.

She had fairly short dark, almost black hair and she usually wore black-rimmed glasses. She was about five-seven, only a couple of inches shorter than I was.

Invariably she was neatly dressed every day, as were all of the teachers in that place. The casual look hadn't hit the Pierpont School yet. For example, all of the male students had to wear a jacket and tie, and the girls had to have dresses or skirts; no trousers were allowed for them. It was an age when public high school girls -- and I definitely noticed them on the street -- would wear halt-tops to class in warm weather.

Mrs. Grunewald's clothes -- she preferred jacket and skirt combinations, but sometimes she had a dress -- were often just tight enough so that I could discern her nicely solid body underneath. She wasn't a slender woman, but that was fine by me.

Beyond her professionalism, she had another side to her personality I also noticed early on. There was something very flirty, provocative even, about her demeanor.

She had a habit of often sitting on the edge of her desk facing the class. That pleased me because I could then clearly see her nylon stockings and her black high-heeled shoes. Her skirts or dresses were usually short enough that the hem rode up on her legs when she sat there. She would often cross and incross her legs, which gave me a little thrill each time she did it.

It was also pleasant to see her get up from her perch and walk over to the blackboard. That way I got a good look at her well-shaped backside pushing against her clothes.

Without thinking about it too much, since January I had grown to look forward to seeing her every day. Sometimes I tried to place myself so that I might have been able to peer under her skirt and see what kind of panties she had on. I knew that they would show through the nylon of her pantyhose, but I never got the right view, even when she was doing her leg-crossing routine.

To amuse myself, I would picture her wearing different types and colors of panties and how they would appear inside her stockings. Then I would use those images at night when pleasuring myself in my bed.

She never seemed to notice that I was trying to see her crotch and the underwear that covered it. I guess I thought I was being cautious and crafty, but I would find out eventually that I was wrong about that. She may have been playing her little games for all of the guys in the class, but some of it was directed at me.

That was the state of things up to late April. I didn't realize it, but Mrs. Grunewald eventually had a plan for me. Being so young and inexperienced, I was oblivious to what she was thinking. I also had no idea of how eccentric and downright kinky she really was.

Yet for a while my sexual activities with her were purely in my imagination. Then one day, when I neared the end of my time at Pierpont, she made her move and put herself squarely into my reality.

******

She had enough seniority to merit her own office. It was in there one day near the end of April that she enacted her first little comedy-drama with me. Well, to a horny but virginal student like me, maybe it wasn't so little. There were other acts to follow. I discovered that Judith Grunewald had a flair for creating theatrical events, and she was a pretty fair actress too.

One day we had an exam that was a combination of fill-in questions plus an essay. The next day, she signaled for me to come over as I was leaving the classroom. At that point, she was sitting in a chair behind her desk.

"Mr. de Matteo, I need to see you in my office this afternoon. Let's make it around four o'clock." A couple of oddities struck me. First, she usually called her students by their first names, which was common practice in most schools by the 1970s. Also, the appointment was an hour after the usual dismissal time. Why was it so late?

Teachers were still called by their last names. "Okay, Mrs. Grunewald, I'll be there. Ah, what is this about?"

"Oh, you'll find out when you get there." She sounded stern, displeased with me even. I didn't know it yet, but she had faked her tone of voice. Yet it was enough to make me feel a bit anxious.

I went out at three o'clock to get something to eat and right on time, I was back to knock on her door. I heard her say, "Tom? Come on in." As soon I was in the room, she said, "Close the door and lock it." She said that so casually that I just barely noticed her request. Why would she want the door locked?

"So you wanted to see me, Mrs. Grunewald?"

She was sitting behind her office desk. There was a window directly behind her, and the Venetian blinds were down. "Yes, I do. Don't sit down; just stand in front of my desk. I need to talk to you seriously about your behavior." She had a disapproving attitude that I had never heard from her before.

She moved her chair back and we assessed each other for a moment. Today she was wearing one of her black suits. However, as she often did, she managed to get some alluring elements into her outfit. I had seen earlier that her skirt was a bit on the short and tight side.

Her jacket was open, and she had a bright blue blouse on that was cut on the low side, revealing more than a bit of her cleavage. My thought was, she's pretty hot for a lady her age. I briefly wondered what she had looked like when she had been my age.

And she was looking at me very intently at that point. Her gray-green eyes were staring at me through the lenses of her glasses, and I had to look away from her gaze. What exactly does she want from me today?

Then she started talking, and I soon caught on that something was not on the level. "Now young man, you surprised me. I thought you were one of my best students, but your misbehavior yesterday was quite shocking." I was confused, but I let her go on. "You were obviously cheating by looking at Frank's test." He was the guy who had been sitting next to me that day.

Like all people, I hated being accused of something I hadn't done, and I probably overdid my reaction. "That isn't true at all. In fact, I couldn't even see his test at that distance."

She raised her hand again. "Look, if it comes to it, my word will carry a lot more weight than yours will."

I had to know, so I blurted out, "What, are you going to report me to the deans?" That did happen to students maybe once or twice each year.

"Not if I don't have to, but there have to be consequences for you. If you submit to my punishment, right now, it will all be over and we won't have to discuss it any further."

The only thing I could imagine was that she would have me expelled, but that contradicted her statement that the whole incident, as bogus as it was, would be forgotten after this afternoon. "With all due respect, I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't know why you are making these accusations against me."

She made a hand gesture to shush me. "Why don't you at least listen to the punishment I have in mind? It's going to be a corporal punishment, if you know what that means."

"Maybe you could explain that a bit more."

"It's quite simple. I'm going to take you over my lap and give you a good spanking on your bare backside. You can picture that, I assume?"

I was almost going to say, you can't do that, but then a little quiver went through me. Now I understood why she had made up this nonsensical charge against me. She was going to enjoy doing it, and if I enjoyed it too, then so much the better.

I knew that even if it hurt somewhat, I indeed probably would like it. I had my own kinky side that I had never told anybody about. How did she guess that about me?

She moved her chair further into the room and sat down again. Then she beckoned me to come closer. "Now lower your trousers and your drawers too; down to your knees if you would." I was aware that my cock was now visible, but she quickly added, "Get over my lap, but keep your feet on the floor."

I liked the feeling of pressing down on her thighs, and I also liked her gazing at my bare behind. He lifted the tail of my sport coat. "I need better access, I need to see what I'm doing." Then, instead of spanking me, she started squeezing my ass cheeks and then moving her hand along the back of my thighs.

I was instantly erect of course and she must have felt it, but at that moment she didn't comment on it. She did praise my appearance, however. "Young men have such lovely tight behinds. It's too bad I have to punish yours so harshly. Tell me, have you ever been spanked before, by anybody?"

"No ma'am, I haven't."

"Then you are about to experience something new. It's going to be good and hard, just so you know what to expect. Are you ready to take it?"

There didn't seem any point in delaying it. "Yes, ma'am, I'm ready."

I looked up and saw her raise her hand above me. "Then here it comes. Please keep your hands out of the way. I don't think you need a warm-up, so I'm just going to get to it."

From the very beginning, the force of her smacks went right through my pelvis and into my genitals. I was hurting in the back, but it wasn't unbearable. It felt very good indeed in the front. Each time she hit me, my hips moved forward across the fabric of her shirt. A few times I quietly said "oh." I thought, my God, I'm masturbating against her lap.

She was talking through all of it. One thing she said was, "You bad boy, you deserve everything you're getting. This is what I'd call a good old-fashioned ass-whooping." A few moments later, "Oh, I see you like this, don't you? You're getting a big erection." She must have noticed it during the fondling phase, but she had said nothing about it then.

I didn't want to apologize, but I felt I had to acknowledge her statement. From her tone of voice, I could surmise that was delighted with my physical response. I came up with, "Mrs. Grunewald, I can't control that."

"I certainly know that already. Guys your age are always masturbating. I bet you do it every chance you get."

I qualified that a bit. "Well, yes, sometimes I do."

"Then I'll just have to hit you harder as discipline, won't I?" Yes, Mrs. Grunewald, you can hit me as hard as you wish.

Everything became quite rhythmic. My ass would go up to meet her hand, and then my hips pushed down as she struck me. My cock would move down and forward against her the cloth of her skirt each time one of her blows landed. My shoes were also sliding back and forth against the floor.

Her strokes weren't too fast, but they were hard and steady. I dared glance back at her face. She seemed to be concentrating on her efforts, and our eyes didn't meet. The sounds of her smacks echoed in the room.

I moaned softly with each forward thrust. She encouraged me, "That's it, you're doing just great." Did she mean my acceptance of the punishment or the sexual response I was having? Or maybe both?

In a short while I knew I was going to have an orgasm right on her lap; it had become inevitable. She had to know it was going to happen, and I was glad to oblige her.

She continued her steady smacking of my ass, and my thrusting against her lap become frantic. There was no turning back at that point. I did warn her, "Oh God, it feels so good; I'm going to come right now."

Her voice seemed light-hearted, "That's fine, sweetie-pie. Show your teacher what you can do for her."

I loudly groaned, and I shot off all over her skirt. I looked down and saw my biggest spurt go over her body and some of it landed on the floor. I heard her again. "That is very impressive, I mean the amount you are putting out." She obviously enjoyed witnessing my climax.

Then I was just lying there, winded and a bit shocked, and I noticed that she had stopped hitting me. I heard her say, "You're such a bad boy, you ejaculated all over me. What a mess!" But there was a teasing, playful sound in her voice and I knew she was kidding me.

I managed to say, "I didn't plan on that." It had all been so fast and unexpected. This woman, whom I had never met outside the classroom, had just viewed me doing an intimate act that no one but me had ever seen before.

Now she was a bit bubbly, "Of course not, but I'm not sure I planned it like that either. I mean, I've never seen a guy go off like that without some manual stimulation too." She seemed delighted with my orgasmic performance. I also wondered who else she had tried this on. Other students, perhaps?

Then she repeated her earlier opinion. "I must say, that was quite a big load you just put out." My thought was, man, this lady is one hard spanker, but she seems to know what she is doing. Of course, I didn't have anyone to compare her to. She continued, "It went very well, better than I expected. As I said, I didn't even have put my left hand underneath to stroke you. And it all took just over ten minutes."

I wasn't aware of how much time had passed. But I was amazed that she had liked that I had gone off on her lap. I felt oddly proud of myself for exceeding her expectations.

She sounded a bit stern again. "All right, get up. It's corner time, or maybe I should call it wall time. Stand by over there; leave your pants down and put your hands on top of your head."

I slowly got to my feet, and without thinking about it, I grabbed my behind to soothe myself. I didn't ask for permission to do that, but she didn't object. When I was by the wall, she got up too and walked over to me.

"I did a thorough job on you, that's for sure." She ran her hand over my backside. "Your flesh is just radiating heat right now and your tight little buns are a lovely shade of red." She shook her right hand in the air. "Of course, I've paid a price too with hand; it's almost numb now."

I dared look over at her. The expression on her face was wild. I thought she was agitated, but surely it was also sexual arousal. The calm, scholarly demeanor she had in the classroom was gone. I looked down and saw some of my own semen on her clothes.

"By the way, it's a good thing I didn't give you a taste of the cane." She pointed over to it; I hadn't noticed it before. It was brown and on the thick side. "Some guys like getting it on their bottoms. We'll see about you some other time."

"Mrs. Grunewald..."

"Please call me Judith."

"Not Judy?"

She found that amusing, "Do I look like a Judy?"

I decided to be blunt with her. "You had a good time with what you just did with me. I think you knew what was going to happen."

"You think so? I know so! It went so well; you supplied all the movement yourself. And I'm very turned on by it; I'm tingling all over. And you obviously loved it too."

She must have caught some look of anticipation in me. I felt I should take a chance and say something quite rude. "Judith, you are a very dirty lady."

Fortunately, she took that well. "You're right, I am very dirty, I'm just so very naughty, which is why it tomorrow it will be your turn to spank me." She saw the look on my face. "I'm not kidding you; I really want you to do it."

I heard myself say, "Why not do it now?"

She laughed at that. "Oh, you are an eager beaver I see. Maybe we've had enough fun and games for the moment. You look a bit shaky right now; I wouldn't want to stress you out. This was only a taste of what I'm considering for you."

I tried to make a case for myself. "I don't feel stressed out." But actually, I was a bit jittery, and she recognized that.

"Honey, you have to pace yourself. You can't get it all done in one day. Come on, get your pants up. I'll take you out for drinks. How does that sound?"

It struck me that it would be my first date ever, not counting that weird interlude we just had on her chair. Why not have it with this strange but sexy Judith lady? I had to confirm it. "You mean you want to go on a date with me?"

"Of course it's a date. Sure, I'm a lot older than you are, but didn't I just give you an orgasm?" I didn't quite understand her logic, and I would up sounding ungrateful.