Women in Lust

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Two years,” she squeaked out, and received a smack on her right cheek, whether as reward or punishment she wasn’t sure. She was sure that she was drooling, but there was nothing she could do, not with her head resting on his desk, her arms splayed at her side. She was drooling between her legs, too, especially when he spanked her again. And again.

  “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. Then he did the same with her pussy lips, gripping them and splaying her wide. She’d wanted to be treated like this, she thought, like a real slut, the kind whose body is up for grabs. “You like that, don’t you, Meredith?” he asked, letting go and then giving her a light tap against her pussy lips.

  She trembled, then answered in an overloud voice, “Yes.”

  “That’s good. Because I’m going to make you sore today. I’m going to make you so sore that in two days when you sit in my classroom your ass is still going to sting, and I’m going to call on you to make sure you’re paying attention, not daydreaming about when I’m next going to take this sweet ass for a ride. Do you understand?”

  As he spoke, Ralph had been smacking her all over—her pussy, her upper thigh, her butt. “Yes, I do. I understand.”

  “Sir,” he said. “Call me ‘Sir.’ We’re done with Ralph and Professor. That’s not who I am right now. I’m your owner.”

  He plunged his fingers inside her, and she pressed her fist to her mouth, afraid of what might come out. She wanted him to own her, like this, to take over for her in a way nobody had in she couldn’t remember how long. And her body wanted it too; she was so hot between her legs, so tight, so desperate, suddenly, to be filled. He moved, and she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to know what was coming. She found out soon enough. It was a ruler, a metal one, striking hard against both asscheeks. She’d have laughed if the pain hadn’t seared its way through her entire body.

  “This is what happens when you distract me in class, when you try to make my cock hard.” The ruler’s edges dug into her skin, stronger and meaner than his hand, but she soon got acclimated to it. She’d never gotten more than a light swat before, but she liked it. She liked being at his mercy, not having to think beyond the initial decision to walk in. The pain was like a door opening to something better, a room to a house she’d never seen before. The blows came down harder and harder and soon the tears were indeed coming down her cheeks, but they weren’t from the pain. That part she could handle, though she knew she’d probably have to sit on a cushion. The tears were for all the other emotions his spanking stirred up.

  “How does your ass feel, Meredith?”

  “Very good, Sir,” she said.

  “Louder,” he said in a deep voice, grabbing her by the hair and pressing her tightly to the desk, the threat of what he could do to her more than enough to make her repeat herself more forcefully.

  “How good?” he asked.

  She didn’t know how to answer. The heat and pain were intense, but not too much. Just enough, but…something was missing. She tingled there, all over. “Good enough that it makes me want something in my ass.”

  She wasn’t sure where the words had come from. She hadn’t been thinking about that hole, had never really thought about it, though she knew her peers did, heard their whispers on Monday mornings, practically saw their asses peeking out over their tight, low-rise jeans. But now, suddenly, she was, as if he’d conjured the words out of her mouth, except he hadn’t. He’d just spanked her and now she realized it was true, she wanted his cock, sight unseen, in her ass.

  She felt his thumb pressing against her there and she moaned, thrashing just enough to get him to press a little deeper. “I see how much your ass needs to be fucked, Meredith.” Every time he said her name, her cheeks got a little hotter. It was the way he said it, like he knew everything about her, when he barely knew a thing. But he did know some things, like how to work his thumb right there, halfway in, until she clenched around it tightly. “Hold your cheeks open for me,” he said.

  She reached behind her to do just that, shocked at how easily she obeyed such a command, and how much she liked it. “That’s good,” he said. “Now stay like that, because if you don’t, I’m going to stop fucking you.” Then his fingers were inside her pussy, strong and assured, and she didn’t care that it wasn’t her ass, as long as he was touching her, getting closer to her, giving her some part of him. “Good girl,” he said, and the two words, so basic, so simple, made her melt. She wanted to be a girl, sometimes, not a woman, a schoolgirl whose only assignment was sex, and here she was, taking more fingers—she didn’t know how many, but she knew he’d added some.

  “Are you ready for my cock, Meredith?” She nodded, though she liked his fingers just fine, actually. “Yes, Sir,” she amended, when his fingers stilled inside her.

  “You may put your hands down,” he said, and she did, resting her head against the desk for a moment, savoring her ass being in the air, being open and wet and wanton like this.

  Soon he was back, and she heard him rolling a condom onto his cock. Then he dragged her down from the desk and put her hands on the floor in front of her, so her body made a V. Then, without another word, he was inside her. Meredith gasped; either he was huge, or she was so starved for sex that she felt like she might break in two, in a good way. She wanted to touch her clit, but didn’t dare, as he drilled into her. This was about her getting fucked, not doing the fucking, and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t want to work right now, didn’t want to supply anything but her body, like this, splayed open wide for her very hot teacher. She felt like a girl in a porn video, and for a second wondered if he had a camera on somewhere taping them. What a horror that would be…but it would also be kind of hot. She smiled as he pulled out, then slammed back in, and she shifted so her V was slightly less wide, making his cock stroke her at a different angle.

  She kept picturing some innocent student walking in, even though the door was locked, and realized as she started to come that she wouldn’t really have minded, at least not this Meredith: slutty Meredith. She wanted someone to know that this was part of who she was too. Ralph knew, and he used that knowledge expertly. She focused on the sensation, familiar but also totally new. She’d never gotten fucked in this position and it felt incredible; when he played with her clit, it felt all the more so. When he slapped her clit, Meredith lost it, trembling and letting herself give over to the climax, tightening around his cock and grunting hard. “That’s it,” he said, urging her on. “You feel so good around my cock.”

  She looked back at him and saw him watching them, watching himself going inside her, and that made her do it again, a ripple effect that left her wondering just what exactly he was doing to her. They’d gone far beyond supply and demand now; he was showing, telling, giving, taking—all at once. Then he started fucking her faster, and she braced herself. He didn’t need long before he said, “I’m coming,” and she felt him cream into the condom, then gently slide out. She stood up and her dress fell down over her waist. She was grateful for it, grateful not to be totally nude after what they’d just done.

  “Sit,” he said, and once she’d settled herself, he brought her a bottle of water.

  “Wow,” she said, and laughed, because what else could she do? She wanted to ask if he did this all the time, but there was a knock at the door. He quickly threw the condom in the trash, followed by some tissues, zipped up, wiped his hands with another tissue and then opened the door. She heard him tell the next student to give him a few minutes.

  Then there was an awkward silence. She wished momentarily for it to have been a dream. How old was he anyway? “Maybe we could go out on a proper date,” he said, lifting her chin to force her to look at him, her face flaming.

  “Maybe,” she said, suddenly anxious to leave. “But maybe we should wait until the semester ends.�
�� Did she mean that? She wasn’t sure, but this was so awkward she couldn’t tell if what she’d just experienced was worth it.

  “So, see you in class on Friday?” he asked.

  “See you,” she said.

  She stood, gathering her things, sure that her escapade was written all over her face. His hand cupped her ass on her way past him, a gentle reminder that she didn’t in any way need. She smiled at him, with her mouth, not yet ready to bring her eyes into it. She walked out the door and kept her head high as she heard her shoes clicking on the floor. She thought of stopping at a lingerie store, but realized she wasn’t in the mood for something so intimate. Instead, she went to the mall, bought a soda and wandered the stores, sipping loudly, observing her own version of Economics 101. She finished the soda and got lured into a store promising 50 percent off on dresses she didn’t need but she walked in anyway, still in a sex stupor. Without buying a bra or panties, she tried on a slinky black dress that was in no way appropriate for school or work. She bought it, and promised herself she’d wear it to class, and then to dinner with Ralph.

  Maybe they shouldn’t wait until the semester ended, after all.

  UNBIDDEN

  Brandy Fox

  When she hit forty, a raging libido blindsided Brooke. One day she was juggling a family life, giving in to the bloating of age and the exhaustion that hit the minute the kids were in bed. The next, she was sizing up every man between the ages of twenty and sixty, looking them over as meticulously as she did the fruit and vegetables at the market: men in cars waiting at stoplights, grocery store clerks, fellow PTA parents, the carpet cleaner and plumber. Sure, she’d always admired a handsome man. But now it wasn’t just looking; it was sweaty, heart-pounding visions of his naked body thrusting away at hers.

  Sometimes it didn’t even take the sight of a man to turn her on. She could be washing a carrot, hurrying to finish a casserole before meeting the school bus, and her hand would linger along the length of its unusually wide girth. Suddenly she’d be on the kitchen floor, thrusting that carrot into her G-spot. Fantasies whipped through her mind unbidden, sending her to the bedroom at all hours of the day—sometimes when her children were in the next room—overwhelmed with the urge to fondle and fuck herself into oblivion.

  “Wow,” her doctor friend said, when Brooke confessed the change. “That’s your testosterone talking. Now you know how men feel.”

  “Not men,” Brooke corrected. “Boys. Fifteen-year-old boys who haven’t yet learned how to tame their hormones. A middle-aged mother is not supposed to be acting that way!” Especially with carrots, she thought.

  “Consider yourself lucky,” her friend said. “Most women who come to my office complain about their lack of libido. Embrace it while you can!”

  So Brooke brought her lust into bed with her husband, Calvin. He welcomed it and gave her what she needed when he could. But they had two young children and busy lives that didn’t allow him to be her sex slave twenty-four hours a day. She worked off the sexual energy at the gym, where her fat disappeared and her muscles grew. Soon even her minivan and earthy nature couldn’t hide that instinctual drive to attract men. For the first time in her life, she began to wear makeup, frequent the hair salon, and buy new, more feminine clothing.

  And more and more often, she wondered: What if one of those men actually responded to her longing? Would she—could she—hold herself back from someone new, someone, unlike her husband, she hadn’t been with for twelve years now? And if not, would it finally satiate her desire?

  One Friday, Brooke bought a new dress for a party that night—her friend’s fortieth birthday, Brooke noted, chuckling to herself. The material of the sheer black dress clung to her palm-sized breasts, firm tummy and tight ass. The low-cut V-neck exposed more of her chest than she usually allowed. It showed off her best features: long neck, strong shoulders and biceps, the perfect sweep of her collarbone, and a birthmark that beckoned from the top of her cleavage like an invitation to explore the vacant space between her breasts. The material was so thin, her lacy black bra showed through in certain light, and she had to wear a G-string or the lines would look tacky. When the dress was paired with a colorful pendant and flowing shawl, Brooke knew she looked stunning.

  After getting ready for the party, she came into the kitchen to wait for the babysitter. When Calvin saw her, he did a double take. His lustful gaze took in every inch of her body. “Whoa,” he breathed.

  “Is it too much?” Brooke asked innocently, putting her hands on her hips.

  He stepped closer and traced the V-neck of her dress. His other hand wandered down her back and onto her rear. “It depends how soon I can get you into bed.”

  Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and the kids came screaming into the room. Calvin leaned into her ear and whispered, “Later,” then gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned away. His quick gesture left her body humming with anticipation.

  At the party, Calvin found a group of men talking politics while Brooke settled into a gaggle of fellow first-grade parents. She soon noticed the wandering eyes of men and women alike, flitting down, then up, then down the length of her body as though pulled by a magnet, igniting her insides with the tingly heat of being wanted. She knew it wasn’t likely that everyone at the party lusted after her, but there was no stopping her naughty mind from lingering on the fantasy.

  At one point, she glanced around the room and saw Kyle, a fellow preschool parent from a few years back. She’d always found him very attractive: cropped salt-and-pepper hair, bright blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. It had been at least two years since she’d seen him, and now, unlike before she’d turned forty, her entire body responded with an exquisite ache. She suddenly imagined his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on her neck—instinctually knowing to skip her wildly ticklish collarbone—then across her breasts and down her belly, until finally he reached her navel and…

  Brooke squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head free of the image before she made a fool of herself. When she opened them, Kyle was looking right at her.

  She smiled and waved meagerly, a bead of sweat forming on the back of her neck. He tilted his head, brow stitched as though trying to figure out who she was. Great, he probably thinks I’m flirting with him now, she thought, then brought her attention back to the group.

  A minute later, he was by her side. “Brooke?”

  She nodded, smiling. “You didn’t recognize me.”

  “Hell, no!” On cue, his gaze wandered up and down her body. “Did you lose weight or something?”

  “Just getting to the gym more,” she explained.

  “Well, it’s working. You look great!”

  Brooke glanced around the room for Kyle’s wife, Jane. “I’m surprised to see you here,” Brooke said. “How do you know the birthday girl?”

  “I work with her.” Kyle locked eyes with Brooke for so long she had to look away, embarrassed.

  “So…is Jane here?”

  “Yeah, she’s somewhere around…” His gaze swept the room. “Not sure where.” He glanced at Brooke’s nearly empty glass. “Can I get you more wine?”

  “Sure,” Brooke replied, thinking she could use another drink with all this attention.

  He was back soon with two drinks, one for her and one for him. They wedged their way back into the group and chatted and drank for another hour. Every so often, Brooke would catch Kyle’s gaze. He would tilt his head and smile, or furrow his brow at her as though trying to figure something out. He always managed to bring the conversation back to her, and when her glass was empty again, he refilled it.

  Once, Brooke saw Calvin across the room, cornered by one of their more annoying friends. I should go rescue him, Brooke thought. Then she caught Kyle’s eye, their glances now turning into long, lingering looks full of innuendo, and decided against it.

  She didn’t realize just how tipsy she was until she was laughing so hard at a joke that she had to grasp Kyle’s shoulder to stay upright and she almost pe
ed in her pants. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she announced, then veered away, surreptitiously holding the wall as she went down the hallway. When she found the bathroom already occupied, she wandered up the stairs and to another one, vaguely aware that her body was acting more quickly than she was thinking.

  Peeing was almost an orgasm in itself. Her body was already on fire from all those sweeping glances and thoughts of Kyle’s bare chest. She spread her legs wider and fingered her wet nub, hoping for a quick release.

  Someone cleared his throat outside the bathroom. She froze, listened again and heard more sounds of a person waiting. Reluctantly, she stopped touching herself and finished up in the bathroom.

  When she opened the door, Kyle was in the hallway. He moved toward her so suddenly it caused Brooke to step back quickly, knocking her off-kilter. Kyle caught her, held her shoulders and gently led her backward into the bathroom.

  He closed the door behind them and stepped so close she could taste the wine on his breath. He reached up and fondled her pendant. “This is gorgeous. Is it Murano glass?”

  Brooke’s breath came in short gasps. She felt her nipples harden just knowing how close his hands were to them. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I’ve been to Venice,” he replied, rubbing his thumb across its smooth surface.

  “With Jane?” It came out before she could think, but she knew why. She wanted to snap him out of this weird little moment so she wouldn’t have to say no. Because she wasn’t sure she could.

  He let the pendant drop. “Yes, with Jane.”

  Brooke thought she’d succeeded in making him back off. But instead, he took a step closer and pressed his leg between her thighs.

  Brooke swallowed, trying hard to keep her mind on her husband rather than on the intense burning between her legs. Calvin, Calvin, Calvin, she thought to herself. The man I’ve loved for twelve years. My lover, my best friend. Calvin. She closed her eyes to get a picture of him in her mind: that pale, angelic face; those deep forest green eyes that had drawn her in the moment they met.