Ellie And Joshs Kinky Adventure

I want to give credit to @StillStunned for inspiring this story through a "snippet challenge" from about May 17. He provided the idea of Ellie trying to spy on her neighbors as they have sex in their yard, motivating her to masturbate on the spot. Then she is grabbed and molested from behind by an unseen assailant. I changed her shorts to a denim skirt. Also, I created her character as she appears in this story.

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"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 read that in some psychology book. What the author completely missed is that we "teachers and aunties" often have parallel desires that run in an opposite but just as powerful direction.

I'd guess that these feelings and fantasies have been just as universal for us mature ladies too. There is often a churning sexual undercurrent within us that is rarely acknowledged. And those secret emotions could be quite kinky.

When I tell people I'm a teacher, or technically an adjunct professor, people will often say, "Well, Ellen, you certainly look like one!" I guess they are trying to make a joke, although at my expense. However, I'm not that bothered by such comments.

I was an English teacher once, for a year at a school in southern Queens. Then I became a lecturer at CUNY's LaGuardia Community College, also instructing students in English for much of my career. Finally, I had had enough of New York City and I got a position two years ago at Hofstra University on Long Island.

Around that time, my husband Mike and I bought our second house in a town called Syosset. It was a nice two-story brick place, although it was ridiculously overpriced as is everything in the Northeast now.

Regarding my appearance, I guess I'm about average for a forty-one-year-old lady. I was born on the cusp between Generation X and the Millennials, as if that means anything, but I was never one of those "hot girls" of any age cohort. Eventually, I accepted my early middle-aged looks as part of life.

I'm about five-foot-five with a brush-cut for my dark brown hair and I have dark-rimmed glasses. Maybe I was a bit "round" in my youth rather than being truly slender, and now a little later-year sag had overtaken my body. So I doubt many of my various male students over the years ever had jerk-off sessions imagining me, Ms. Resnick, bouncing on their cocks.

I admit it would have been pleasing if a few had fantasized that but of course, how would I ever know? Maybe I could tell by the way they looked at me. Probably at Hofstra, the younger and svelter Ms. Silverstein got much more such attention than I ever did.

Then there was Ms. Padilla. Did she have to wear a mini-dress every damn day of the year? She definitely had the legs for it. And I'm sure she knew that every straight male student (and probably a few of the girls too) in her classes had her in their weekly whack-off routines.

A more pressing issue was the increasing "meh" I felt about my marriage, then reaching its twentieth anniversary. As Erica Jong wrote a long time ago (I'm showing my age here), "There came the inevitable year when fucking him became as bland as Velveeta cheese... one longed for an overripe Camembert." At forty-one, I reluctantly accepted that as another part of the inevitable process of growing older.

Yet, underneath, I still had unfulfilled desires. On a couple of occasions I had suggested experimenting with Mike on certain kinky but still fairly vanilla activities, but he spurned me. "Ellie, that is just perverse." I didn't agree with him but there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. That part of his psyche just didn't line up with mine.

Yet I needed some outlets for myself. One came along during my second summer in Syosset. I was doing some gardening in my yard, planting boxed petunias near the hedges that lined the sides of our property. Even though it was a Saturday, Mike was putting in extra hours on his day off, and he wouldn't be back until that evening.

I find gardening to be a sexy activity -- all of that fecundity, I guess -- and I dressed accordingly on that hot July day. There was some fun to be had by wearing a pink and white halter top, a short denim skirt, sandals -- and no underpants.

Hey, I felt like a sexy lady who could dispense with panties in her own yard. The warm breeze felt wonderful on my exposed genitals, and I was getting aroused merely by puttering around with my flowers.

Then I heard some unmistakable sounds from my relatively new neighbors on the opposite side of the hedge. Donald and Valerie Marcus were about my age, but from what I could hear, they were having a grand time screwing the hell out of each other. And outdoors, no less.

My curiosity got to me, and I moved over a few feet to where there was a gap in the foliage. Sure enough, there they were, copulating on a blanket covering the grass. Val was on top of him, wearing a bikini bra and, for some reason, sandals. They were making quite a racket about it too.

I couldn't help myself. Probably the mooks I taught at Hofstra (and probably the females too) couldn't imagine that Ms. Resnick masturbated. Possibly, I enjoyed it as much as they did, which certainly would have surprised them. I had even used the ladies' rooms at the school to bang myself with my trusty hairbrush.

Why didn't Mike ever do exciting things like have outdoor sex with me? He was just too staid, I guess. Thus I had to fulfill my own fantasies.

That day, my bottomless condition helped as I listened to my neighbors enjoying themselves. I put three finders on my pussy, two of them inside and the other reserved for fondling around the edges. It all felt instantly wonderful. I knew that soon I'd have to lie down in the grass myself and spread my legs wide to get the maximum effect.

My self-pleasuring was just getting good when two hands grabbed me around the waist from behind. I also felt an erect cock pushing up under my skirt and against my ass crack.

I wheeled around to confront the interloper, and it was Don and Val's nineteen-year-old son Josh. The first thing I did was smack him hard on the side of his head. I didn't want his parents to hear me -- this was between the two of us only, I thought -- and I hissed, "Get away from me! What the hell is wrong with you anyway?"

He immediately backed off, holding his pants up. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Resnick, sometimes I can't help myself."

I took a moment to assess who I had in front of me. I had seen him a few times before and I did know his name. He wasn't a big guy at about five-foot-nine, and he was a bit on the slender side. Yet he was also rather good-looking with dark hair and eyes.

"You couldn't help yourself! Didn't your parents teach you anything about how to behave?" So I had brought up his family, although I wondered what influence they could have on him at his age.

"I guess not. Maybe they should have spanked me when I was bad."

I know I heard that correctly. It had to be a coincidence, because how could he have guessed one of my deepest secrets, my wish to be a truly dominant female?

Some intuition told me to test him further. I had avidly watched some dominatrix videos online, in private, and I understood how to play that game if that was indeed what it was.

My task was to remain calm yet take the role of the aggrieved neighbor. "Well, young man, I am just the lady to teach you the discipline you have been so sorely lacking until now. In fact, we're going to do it right now in my house." Why waste any time?

That all sounded so hackneyed, but I truly had some anger about what he had done to me. Plus he had interrupted what promised to be a very intense orgasm on my part. He seemed to know what his next lines should be. "So what are you going to do?"

Had he planned the whole thing? Or was he just improvising as he went along?

Well, tell him what you want.

I pulled on his arm to lead him to my side door, and I felt no resistance. "It's quite simple. I'm going to take you over my knees and spank your sorry bare backside until my arm gets tired. Then, to finish you off, I'm going to..."

I remembered that I had inconveniently left my hairbrush upstairs. I said, "I'll use a wooden implement to put a few dents in your rear end. That will literally make an impression on you." There had to be something in the kitchen that would suffice.

While I was pulling him, he got his trousers back in order. I didn't know why he bothered, because he'd have to undo them in a moment.

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Then, I got him into my air-conditioned living room, and I realized that I didn't want to break the mood by leaving him alone, even for a moment, to go to the kitchen.

Well, I'll think of something

. From my perusal of those videos, I knew the important part now was the "chiding" or scolding which was a necessary prelude to the punishment.

Every miscreant had to know the reasons for what was being done to him, even if it was mostly a pretext. The verbal part promised to be as satisfying as the physical aspects. I knew I had to improvise my dialogue, and I hoped I had a knack for it.

The first thing I said was, "All right, just stand there, right in front of me." I sat in a chair and pondered him for a moment. He had a typical summer outfit of shorts and a T-shirt. His hands were folded in front of and he was trying to appear contrite, but he didn't look very convincing. Maybe he knew less about how to play that game than I did.

I tried out my act. "You need a good talking too before you get a good ass-whacking. What makes you think you can just walk up to ladies and stick your dick up under their skirts?"

I knew about that old trick of pretending to collide with a girl while walking and then copping a feel of her tits, but his technique was a new one for me. "And with a neighbor no less. Are you dumb enough to think I wouldn't instantly notice who was behind me?"

"Sometimes these urges become overwhelming, Mrs. Resnick." Nice touch, using the old-fashioned honorific of Missus. Then he surprised me. "Besides, you are a very naughty lady yourself, I mean not wearing any panties during your gardening."

He must have been spying on me as I planted my flowers. I had been squatting with my legs splayed out quite a bit. All the better to catch those summer breezes, right?

An insult seemed appropriate on my part. "You really are a cheeky little brat, aren't you? It's perfectly legal for a woman to forego panties in her own yard. What you did was probably a crime." I had to do some guessing there. "Probably simple battery or forcible sexual touching or something like that."

Josh had a somewhat irrelevant response, although he wasn't too much of a smart-ass about it. "You were also spying on my parents."

"They weren't making much of an effort to hide themselves. And you must have been spying on me while I was down there in the flower bed."

This guy seems to like to argue; time to move this along.

I remembered a domination trope; make the victim retrieve his own punishment implement. "All right Josh, enough of this chit-chat. Go into the kitchen and get a wooden spoon for me. You'll find one in the wash rack."

He didn't complain about that. I had seen from videos that a wooden spoon could leave some significant bruises on bare male butt cheeks. Some tingles went through me as I anticipated wielding my spoon on that naughty guy's ass.

Ellie, maybe you do have a flair for this after all.

Josh returned in a few seconds and dutifully handed my kitchen spoon to me. I looked at it for a moment, then dramatically tested it by hitting my left and with it. "Yes, I think this will work just fine on you." I put it on the floor for future use. "You do know what the concept of corporal punishment is all about, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do." That ma'am bit was amusing if a bit theatrical.

"Let me remind you that it serves two purposes. The first is to penalize you for your past indiscretions. The second is to be a reminder never to do those actions again. I've already made it clear what those are."

Wow, I'm really laying it pretty thick here even if it doesn't make complete sense.

I decided to continue my little speech, "Just as a reminder, we need a safe word or phrase, which I will allow you to pick. You do know what I'm talking about?"

Perhaps he was being tongue-in-cheek, but he immediately said, "Sure I do. All right, I chose 'Chicken of the Sea.' "

I had to smile at that. It would be hard to misinterpret that one. "That's fine, but it's basically a formality and I don't expect you to use it." I appealed to his male pride. "Be a man about it, and take your discipline bravely. But believe me, I'm not going to be gentle with you."

"Yes, I fully accept that."

Had he been through this before with someone else?

I beckoned him with a finger, and he came closer. He was perfectly capable of taking down his own shorts, but I wanted to do that for him. After unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper, I let his garment fall to his knees, but I left his underpants in place,

"Lower your shorts to the floor and step out of them. Then get yourself over my knees. I'm right-handed, so you should know which direction to place yourself."

He certainly did, and I felt his weight pressing down on my lap. "Keep your feet on the floor. If you swing your legs up and hit me in the head with a foot, I'll make you take your sneakers off too."

Why not just do that now and get it over with?

It didn't seem to be worth the bother and besides, it was time for the unveiling. I put my hand into the waistband of his drawers and yanked them down. After pulling those all the way off, I dropped them on top of his discarded shorts.

It had been a long time since I had seen a young man's bare behind, since my earliest days with Mike. That was so long ago that it didn't seem to count. A thrill went through my entire body from my pelvis up to my throat.

Oh Ellie, you're doing it; you've got this guy in exactly the position you wanted.

Josh's rear end was narrow but his young flesh was taut and pale. There was a tan line running across his upper thighs from whatever bathing suit he used. I also got a glimpse of his testicles between his slightly parted legs, but I couldn't see his cock.

All in all, it was a splendid display of young male hindquarters. My pussy was tingling at the mere sight of his body, and that become more intense as I realized that I could do anything I wished with him.

It was necessary to control myself, however, and I had more scolding to do as an indignant neighbor. "Now Josh, your behavior today was completely unacceptable. However, I am going to correct you thoroughly so you don't ever do it again."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm fully in agreement."

"Let's see if you are still in agreement when I am finished with you."

Even dominatrices needed some fun, as I had seen demonstrated in videos, and I used my right hand to fondle and squeeze the warm flesh of his tight backside.

Oh God, this is going to be better than I ever imagined.

Somehow the good Lord had dropped this young guy right where I had wanted him to be.

Josh liked what I was doing because he quietly moaned and swiveled his ass around. I couldn't see it, but I could feel his erection rising up against my thighs.

The first wetness was seeping out of my body, and my panties would have been getting damp had I been wearing any. I said quietly, "It's a pity I have to punish a fine young man like you so harshly, but you so richly deserve it. It's for your own good, you know, and you'll thank me later for it." That was such nonsense, but I liked saying it anyway. "Are you ready to receive your discipline?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am." I almost wished he'd call me "Miss." I may have been forty-one, but I wanted him to think of me as mature, not old.

"Well, I'm prepared to inflict it. It's going to a hard spanking, as I said, so brace yourself for it."

It didn't seem that complicated. All I had to do was raise my arm up high and alternate my hand strokes between his left and right sides.

It seemed that my hand bounced up after striking him twice. I noticed the first pink handprints appearing on his untanned skin. After the next two, he quietly groaned something like "ew" each time I hit him. I had planned on a rather slow but steady rhythm with my arm; I wanted each blow to count. My left hand held him around his bare waist just below his shirt.

As the sound of the smacks echoed in the room, I babbled some enthusiastic blather I made up as I went along. "Yes, Josh, I can see I'm having quite an impact on you. I learned all this from my own mother when I had been naughty myself. She disciplined me until I graduated from college."

That was a complete lie, but I had indeed once asked Mike to take

me

over his lap when I had been a bad wife. You would think any man would jump at the chance, but not Mike. That too was "perverse." I mean, it was my ass that would have gotten a good smacking, so what was his problem with that?

Meanwhile, I was fascinated to see the effects I was having I was having on Josh. He began to squirm and clench his buttocks, and his feet began to rise up and wave around in the air. I slapped the backs of his calves.

"I said to watch those feet, or you'll be sorry." I didn't have an exact response in mind, so I invented one and gave him a couple of whacks on the backs of his thighs. Fortunately, he didn't put a hand back to protect his vulnerable rear as I had seen happen in some spanking videos. I didn't want the extra responsibility of having to pin his arm back too.

"So Josh, I think we're getting into the 'meat' of this matter, wouldn't you say?" That was a silly double entendre, but so what? "You're learning your lesson about leaving neighbor ladies alone when they are doing their gardening, that's what I would say."

"Yes, Mrs. Resnick, I'll be good from now on." I didn't know if he was repeating a trope he had heard somewhere or if he was simply emotionally regressing to being a "very sorry bad boy."

I soon realized that my right hand was becoming as sore and red as Josh's bottom. I stopped and shook it, but there was little I could do about the problem.

I should wear a leather glove the next time I get a chance to do this.

Then I remembered those dominatrix women who had been so entertaining in those videos. They were physically as well as emotionally rather tough. Those ladies seemed to be able to spank a man all day if necessary. They were an inspiration for me to meet the challenge I had set for myself.

"Yes, Josh, I'm really tanning your hide but good today. As my mother used to say, 'you're never too old for a sound spanking.' " Now I was creating imaginary dialogue for my mom. Also, although his behind was darkening, it looked more like a sunburn than a tan to me.

But it was all so satisfying, everything that I had hoped for. I wished I could do it to some of my feckless students at Hofstra. Professor scenarios were popular in BDSM porn, often with the teacher wearing full academic gear including a mortarboard hat. Completely ridiculous, of course, but who said porn had to make any sense? Besides, spanking would have been completely forbidden at any American college I'd ever heard of.

Yet the concept of being a mean teacher still appealed to me. I imagined the word going out at my school. "Don't ask Ms. Resnick for an incomplete. She spanks hard, you know."