After School–on F/M Sunday

We hear about “cougars” all the time, those older women with an erotic fixation on younger, malleable men. On that note,  I’ve noticed female schoolteachers have also been in the news. It seems like almost weekly there is some sex scandal involving a schoolteacher and a student. These accounts are usually light on the facts. We know the older woman is alleged to have seduced her student, but we don’t know how it came about or what they actually did. I know what I imagine went down. It might have been something like this.


After School Instruction
By Suzanne

The bell rang, and the class rose as one, gathering books, papers and pens
together, shuffling out of the room.
Mrs. Delvecchio pushed a strand of dark hair away from her brow, raising her
chin slightly, and gestured toward one of the young men preparing to leave her
“Yes, Ma’am?” Tim raised his eyebrows in a question.
Mrs. Delvecchio paused, smiling a little in spite of her resolve to maintain a
severe demeanor with the boy. He was a charming and attractive young man, and ordinarily one of her best students. Lately, however, she couldn’t deny he’d
been neglecting his tasks, and his attention in class seemed to be everywhere
but on the assignments in front of him.
“Has something been bothering you lately, Tim,” she asked sympathetically.
He shuffled his feet a bit, and Mrs. Delvecchio’s gaze traveled approvingly up
and down his medium frame, taking in the slim hips, trim waist, nicely defined,
compact musculature, dark hair and pleasant features. She couldn’t deny the
attraction she felt for young Tim, although, being a woman of principle, she
would never allow her tender feelings for him get in the way of her duties as
his teacher.
“Tim,” she prodded. “You’ve been paying less and less attention in class over
the past several weeks. Your assignments, when you bother to turn them in, are
late or incomplete. And your score on the examination we took yesterday is not
very good. When a student with your obvious intelligence performs class work far below his capacity, there has to be some reason for it. Please feel free to tell
me if anything is troubling you, young man. I’d like to help if I can.”


Tim looked up at Mrs. Delvecchio – she was an inch or two taller than he –
feeling deeply ashamed and guilty. Everything she’d said was the truth – he knew
he had been slacking off lately, and that he was capable of much better work.
But how could he possibly tell her that the newness, the excitement of college
life had gotten to him, to such extent that instead of studying as he should
have been, he was out partying with his friends every evening?
As he looked at his teacher, stammering out excuses and promises to improve in
the future, he thought he saw a knowing look pass through her dark eyes. Tim
felt his face grow warm as he noticed, seemingly for the first time, that Mrs.
Delvecchio was actually rather young – probably in her mid-thirties, certainly
no older than forty – and that, in spite of the fact that she was perhaps a few
pounds heavier than she should have been, she was really very appealing.
Her eyes were large, framed by long black lashes that swept her
classically-boned face each time she lowered them, a long, straight, patrician
nose, and full, generous mouth set above a rounded chin. Right now, her jaw was
set in a stern line, her wide lips drawn together tightly, her ebony eyes
flashing at him. It seemed as though Mrs. Delvecchio had heard every excuse Tim could possibly think up, and then some.12341574_158887837800172_2773119534643632437_n

Finally, he dropped his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry, Mrs. Delvecchio.
I guess I just haven’t applied myself like I should have been.”
“Is that the best you can do, young man?” She flashed a quick smile letting him
know she wasn’t really angry, just disappointed and exasperated by her failure
to get through to him, to motivate him.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he repeated.
Mrs. Delvecchio sighed deeply, her proud bosom rising and falling beneath one of the high-necked blouses she always wore on the job.
“I’m afraid that just isn’t enough, Tim,” she said, nailing him with her
penetrating gaze. “You’re in danger of failing my class, did you know that?”
The young man hung his head. “No, I didn’t,” he said softly. “Please, Ma’am – I
know it’s all my fault. I know I haven’t been working as hard as I could have
and should have, but please, can’t you give me another chance?”
“I don’t know.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, never taking her eyes
from his face. “Why should I believe that you’ll settle down and apply yourself
now, when you haven’t do so yet?”
“I don’t know,” he said miserably, twisting his hands together. “But I really do
mean it! I’m sorry, Ma’am, I really am. Isn’t there any way that I can convince
“Perhaps.” A slight twinkle came into Mrs. Delvecchio’s eyes, her lips turning
up at the corners, just a little. “First, tell me something. Would you agree
with my assessment, that you’ve been behaving more like a spoiled five-year-old,
than a mature young man in his first year of college?”
“Yes,” Tim said simply. He had no retort; his teacher was completely correct.
“In that case, I think we may be able to work something out. Why don’t you come
over to my house this evening, say around seven o’clock? I have an idea about
how to help you improve your study habits, and I’d like to talk it over with
MS gave Tim directions to her house, and he left the classroom, wondering what
she had in store for him that evening.
* * * * *

“Hello, young man,” Mrs. Delvecchio greeted him, opening the door to her
attractive split-level home to him.
Tim stood rooted in place, gaping at her. Instead of the severe, businesslike
outfits she wore to school, Mrs. Delvecchio had dressed in a low-cut dress of
some soft, clingy material, a shade of blue that reminded him of the Colorado
“Mrs. Delvecchio,” he blurted before he could stop himself, “You look – you look
Mrs. Delvecchio frowned, but her eyes danced with amusement. “That’s very nice, young man, but as you know, we are not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you. Please be seated.”


Time settled himself on her long, lushly upholstered sofa, mentally kicking
himself for being so stupid. She’d probably thing he was trying to butter her up
to get a better grade, and then she’d be even more angry than she already was!
But Mrs. Delvecchio didn’t seem overly upset. She settled herself on the couch
next to him, smoothing her billowy skirt under herself. Time flushed more
brightly, unable to stop himself from sneaking a peek at her legs. They were
shapely and curvaceous, covered by a pair of hose the color of midnight mist.
Her calves were firm, her knees delightfully dimpled, and the glimpse of thigh
he caught before she smoothed the skirt back over her knees was plush and
“Now, Tim,” she said firmly. “As I told you earlier, as of this moment, you’re
carrying a failing grade in my class. You probably feel that you have plenty of
time before graduation time, time to make up any classes that you don’t pass.
But if you want to graduate on time, and with a good GPA, it is definitely not
too early to begin thinking of the future of your education. There is one plan,
and one plan only, that I’ve come up with that would enable you to pass my class
and get back on track.”
“Anything, Mrs. Delvecchio!” he interrupted. “I’ll do anything you say!”
She held up a hand and chuckled, a deep, rich, womanly sound. “Just a moment,
young man. I’d suggest you hear me out. When you hear what I have in mind, you may just decide you’d rather flunk out.”
Tim leaned forward attentively. What could she possibly mean?
She smiled slightly, then drew her face into a severe mask, effectively covering
the amusement and affection she felt for the boy. “Young man, earlier today you
agreed with me that you’d been acting like a naughty child instead of the mature
and intelligent lad you are. I have some experience with naughty boys. So first there is the little matter of appropriate punishment for your past behavior. Once we take care of that we can proceed to fix these grades.”

Punishment? Tim didn’t know what she was talking about. Okay, he was a class cut-up, but why bring this up now?

She smiled more broadly, then continued, “And it’s been my experience that nothing
on this earth curbs a little boy’s naughtiness than a good, sound, old-fashioned
She stopped speaking, and Tim waited for her to continue, but she just sat,
looking at him. Slowly it dawned on him that she might be suggesting…but no,
no, she couldn’t possibly mean that! SPANKING? REALLY? That hadn’t happened

since he ten years old and sassed Aunt Alice.11204445_138520656506492_4896323047377792685_n


Apparently that was exactly what she meant. “In other words, Tim, I think a
good, hard spanking might help get you back on track. And I think that future
spankings may be warranted. If you agree to allow me to chastise you as I see
fit, I think we may be able to work something out as far as your grade goes. I
also think spankings will serve to remind you to keep your mind on your studies,
where it should be. Of course, I can’t force you to bend over my lap so I can
spank your bare bottom. But you said a few minutes ago that you were willing to
do anything to prove your desire to mend your ways. I’d be interested to see if
you really meant it.”

Tim’s mouth dropped open and he snapped it shut with an audible click. He drew a deep breath in through his nose and slowly released it. His heart hammered a staccato beat. Strangely, although the teacher’s threat to spank him filled him with nervousness, he was also more than a little aroused by it. Drop his pants and go over Mrs. Delvecchio’s ample lap for a spanking? He blushed furiously.
“Mrs. Delvecchio,” he said timidly, “You must be kidding, right?”
A look oat her face told him she wasn’t. “But I’m too old to be spanked! I’m a
teenager! I’m a grown man!”
“In the eyes of the law, you may be an adult,” Mrs. Delvecchio retorted, her
wide, dark eyes sparkling. “But when you act like a little boy, it’s only fair
that you be treated like one, don’t you agree?
“I guess so, but –”
“Well, it’s settled then.” She smiled widely. The smile touched her eyes,
lighting up her whole face, making her look like a young girl, rather than a
capable and authoritative teacher. “I’ll take your willingness to be spanked
good and hard as evidence of your sincerity, and change your failing grade to a
D for the semester. Of course, I know that no matter how sincere a boy is about
mending his ways, sometimes backsliding occurs. If this should be the case with
you, young man, you can expect to be taken over my knee again, as many times as is necessary. But for now, why don’t we begin?”
She took hold of the hem of her skirt, raising it high on her thighs so that Tim
would not wrinkle it with his squirming and wiggling. The boy gaped at her
strong, rounded thighs, the dark welts of her stocking tops clearly visible,
held in place by the tabs of her lace garter belt.
Tim gulped, his eyes fixed on her legs, the delicate lace garters, the smoky


“Well?” Mrs. Delvecchio raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly to let him know
she wasn’t really angry. “Lower your trousers, young man. I’ve always believed a
spanking isn’t effective unless it’s given on the bare bottom.”
Tim’s face grew warm. He stood on shaky legs, unfastened his belt, and pulled
the zipper of his pants down with trembling fingers. He turned this way and
that, embarrassed at the prospect of lowering his pants in front of Mrs.
Delvecchio. Finally, he turned toward the side, yanked his pants down quickly,
and took hold of the waistband of his briefs.
He hesitated, and Mrs. Delvecchio nodded slightly. He drew in a deep breath,
then lowered his briefs, folding his hands modestly in front of his crotch.
“Come on, Tim,” the teacher instructed. “Over my knees this instant.”
He stood not a foot away from where she waited, but the two shuffling steps
toward her waiting lap seemed to take an eternity. Finally, with a long,
shuddering sigh, Tim draped himself awkwardly across her thighs. A tingle like
an electric shock coursed through him as his bare flesh came into contact with
the bare tops of her thighs, the lacy garters tickling him. To his
embarrassment, he felt himself stir and harden, hoping desperately that she
wouldn’t notice.
If she did, she gave no indication. She took hold of his upper arm and tugged
gently, positioning him more to her liking. His legs stretched out behind him on
the couch, he folded his arms and rested his head on them, his bare and
vulnerable bottom poking up in the center of his teacher’s lap.
“This is for your own good, young man,” she murmured. She wrapped her left arm around his waist, and patted his backside gently with her right. “Are you
Tim nodded, tight with humiliation, feeling exquisitely vulnerable and

Mrs. Delvecchio made a small noise of amusement, patting his slim, taut cheeks
with her hand. “I’m afraid when we’re finished here, you’ll be a little less
than comfortable. But I hope you’ll also be wiser and more mature. Now, then.”
Tim sensed her arm rising, and tightened his buttocks in anxious anticipation. A
second later, Mrs. Delvecchio lowered her arm, her palm connecting smartly with his bare right cheek.
Tim jumped a little, as much from surprise as from pain, although it did sting,
more than he’d expected.
Before he’d had time to completely react to that first smack, Mrs. Delvecchio
added a second to his left cheek, then she raised and lowered her arm several
times in rapid succession, sending a flurry of sharp whacks raining down on his
smooth, unprotected bottom.1520643_544203429030849_5121748749379995136_n
Tim gave an exclamation of alarm and reached back, trying to protect his bottom
from her insistent palm.
“None of that,” Mrs. Delvecchio scolded. She seized his wrist and held it at his
side, out of the way. She whacked him again, harder than she had previously, and Tim cried out.
“Yowtch! Please Mrs. Delvecchio, not so hard!”
“Nonsense,” she sniffed. “You’re being punished for you lack of care and
attention to your studies. It’s supposed to be hard.”
She smacked again, using short, sharp strokes, covering Tim’s cheeks with tongues of fire.
She maintained a brisk, steady pace, each smack falling right upon the last,
reddening his backside quickly. Tim gasped. He squirmed over her lap, shifting
his hips from side to side in an effort to avoid her strong, capable palm.
Mrs. Delvecchio spanked away, landing blow after burning blow expertly. Tim felt his taut flesh flatten under her insistent hand, then spring back into slightly
rounded firmness, only to be smacked flat once again. He began to struggle, but
his teacher’s strong arm held him easily in place.


“Naughty boy!” she scolded, whaling away without pause. “Maybe a red hot bottom
is what you need to encourage you to keep your mind on your studies.”
Again and again, Mrs. Delvecchio smacked fire into Tim’s wiggling cheeks. He
tossed his bottom, bucking over her thighs. Her timing was perfect, and she
managed to catch his squirming buttocks as they rose to meet her punishing palm.
Smack after smack after stinging smack landed. Time and again Tim emitted loud
“Ouch!s” and louder, “Pleases!” Mrs. Delveccio ignored him, lecturing all the while.
“A boy as bright as you are should have no trouble passing all his exams.”
“All you have to do is concentrate a little. Just a little, Tim!”
“When I’m done with you, young man, I certainly hope you’ll have learned
“I have, I have learned something,” Tim cried, clenching and unclenching his
buttocks in time with his teacher’s crisp swats.

“I certainly hope so,” she replied. Tim couldn’t see, but he was sure his rear
end must have been bright red by now. Still, his teacher spanked on, deepening
the shade from pink to red, to darker red, to almost maroon.
He felt as if he’d backed up against a hot stove and decided to stay a while. He
felt as if a swarm of killer bees had attacked his behind all at once, dozens of
stingers implanting themselves into his tender, sore backside. He felt as if he
would die from the shame. He wanted her to stop; he wanted her to continue. He
was in agony; he was in ecstasy.
Strangely, the knowledge that no matter how he squirmed and wiggled, kicked and bucked, begged and promised, Mrs. Delvecchio would simply continue spanking his cringing bottom flesh until she decided he’d been punished sufficiently for his transgressions, rather than filling him with dread, seemed to have the opposite effect on him.tumblr_nsbjytngad1ubl9p1o5_400

Oddly, Tim found himself welcoming the blows. It was almost cathartic. He knew he had behaved badly, and agreed
that he deserved every sharp whack he was getting. Also…although the
realization embarrassed him full measure…he had to admit that the spanking,
the closeness of her body, the intimacy as she punished his bare bottom, was
strangely pleasing. Comforting. And, okay, he had to be honest…rather
Finally, when Tim had been reduced to a wailing, chastened, sorry little boy,
Mrs. Delvecchio stopped spanking him. She began to rub her hands in circles over
his scorched bottom, soothing some of the sting away. Tim sighed, relaxing over
her lap. The touch of her hand comforted him, letting him know he had paid the
penalty for his carelessness and been forgiven–and something more. As Mrs.
Delvecchio continued to stroke his reddened flesh, Tim felt himself hardening,
his penis growing to greater proportions than he’d have thought possible. He
cringed, shamed in the midst of his arousal, knowing that if he’d been able to
hide his excitement from her before, there was no possible way he could do so
now. She had to know how he felt. She had to!
Finally, the teacher withdrew her hands from his bottom cheeks, and stood Tim on
his feet. He turned this way and that, awash with humiliation. If he turned his
back to her, he displayed his reddened, well-spanked bottom. If he faced her,
the evidence of his arousal was clear.
Mrs. Delvecchio chuckled, drawing him into and embrace.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, young man,” she said, stroking his back, patting his
shoulder, smoothing the hair from his damp, tear-streaked face. “It only means
that you’ve got a nice submissive streak. Nothing wrong with that. It ensures me
that you ought to have no trouble following my directions from now on.”
Tim relaxed, luxuriating in the teacher’s comforting touch. She kissed him
gently on the forehead, gave his reddened bottom a last, fond pat, then said in
a business-like voice, “Now, Tim. I feel that you’ve been well and thoroughly
punished for your naughtiness. But if you should forget the lesson I taught you
today at some point in the future–rest assured that I’ll have no hesitation in
repeating it, at any time I deem appropriate. For your own good, of course,” she
added with a wry smile.
Tim nodded, gulping. He really meant to do his best, to make Mrs. Delvecchio
proud of him. But, knowing himself, he did have a rather careless, even
mischievous streak in him. He imagined what he wished she’d do right now. 12733481_148006108916168_4407889188776629099_n
He had a feeling that the evening’s events might be repeated, perhaps sooner
than either he or Mrs. Delvecchio expected.
To his surprise, he found himself rather looking forward to it.
Mrs. Delvecchio patted his shoulder one last time, as Tim stooped, gingerly
pulling his shorts and trousers back into place.
After all, he didn’t have to be bad to earn himself another trip over her knees,
did he? She’d mentioned something about ‘reminder spankings .’
Tim pulled his pants up, wincing a little as the fabric came into contact with
his tenderized backside. He had a feeling he’d need to be ‘reminded’
again…real soon.


One response to “After School–on F/M Sunday

  1. Nice one. Nothing like having an under-performing student getting a terrific and well-deserved spanking across his teacher’s knee.


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