He turned and beamed his full attention, not to mention two rows of extremely even white teeth, right at her. “If you ever have any questions, Meredith, you are more than welcome to visit me in my office during office hours. It’s totally confidential,” he said, and she wondered if she was imagining that his voice got low and intimate somehow on that last word. Were they still talking about homework?
“I think that might be helpful,” she said, meaning, in fact, I’d love to dress up for you and bend over your desk. “Well, I’ll see you soon,” she said.
“I hope so,” he said quietly, unless she’d imagined that too.
She went home and for the first time in who knows how long, she stripped down to her birthday suit and simply walked around every room enjoying the feel of the air against her bare skin. She took baths, of course, and even got massages, but those were merely utilitarian reasons for nudity. This afternoon was about her picturing herself prancing around for Professor Arthur, showing him her pendulous, large breasts, her sizeable ass, the curve of her belly, the dusting of red fuzz covering her pussy. She dyed her hair a very shiny brown, trying to fool the world into thinking her a brunette, but inside her lurked the soul of a redhead, one whose innate passion had been put on hold for far too long. Instead of taking a bath, Meredith stood in her bathroom and began touching herself the way she wanted Professor Arthur—”Ralph,” she said aloud to herself—to touch her. She began with her breasts, tweaking each one, holding up the nipples and tugging and twisting until the sight caused a corresponding tug in her pussy.
Then, staring at herself in the mirror, Meredith lifted her right breast and tucked her head down so she could suck on her own nipple. The flood of emotion and arousal was so intense she had to lean her left hand against the counter. She spread her legs, wondering if Professor Arthur was circumcised, picturing his cock as big and thick and aching just for her. She kept going, making sure to watch her every move, so that when she did go to her hot professor’s office hours, it wouldn’t be as a true schoolgirl, skittish and nervous, relying on her youthful charm and giggly giddiness, but as a mature woman who could tap into that spirit, but also had something more to offer. For all her pleated-skirt fantasies, what Meredith wanted was to be treated like a woman⎯a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, even if what she wanted was to be manhandled by a younger nerdy man who just so happened to hold her academic future in his hands.
and later in the story:
“When was the last time your ass got spanked, Meredith?”
She was quiet, and now tears rose to her eyes. “Never,” she whispered, and felt him again grab her ass, this time with both hands, holding her open.
Order Women in Lust from:
IndieBound (search for your local indie bookstore)