From the Top Shelf - The Amorous Professor

Today I have a real treat in store for you.  I recently discovered an anonymously written book called The Amorous Professor, and it's quite a juicy tale. The narrator is Frank Meredith, a bachelor in his forties who is a teacher by profession. In this excerpt he tells us how, at the age of 24, he lost his virginity to a lady who also ignited his passion for spanking.

Her name was Meg Alesworth; she was nineteen, with russet coloured hair that always tumbled in a thick mop, an impish face, and skin that was the colour of clotted cream. Her eyes were almost gentian, as I recall, enormous, widely spaced and most expressive. Her mouth was a passionate rosebud, and her tongue was a miracle unto itself.

Meg was a junior at St. Margaret's College about a mile away from my own pedagogical locale, and I recall that I met her when she bumped into me, running and not looking where she was going, knocking all my books to the ground. In sweet confusion, she blushingly assisted me in retrieving them, and I, always the opportunist, offered her an invitation to dinner which she gaily and laughingly accepted.

It being a warm early June evening, we strolled hand in hand along one of the winding little rivers near the college , and found at last a secluded grove where crickets chirped and night birds called to one another. Meg turned to me, her eyes questioning, her lips parted and soft, and I did what any red blooded man would have done - I kissed her passionately...

One thing led to another, and when it was over,

...she said with a naughty grin, "I thought you were such an old sobersides that you were never going to make love to me, and you needed encouragement. Now I hope you have the idea!"

This was a challenge to my male pride that I could not let go readily. My face reddened as I exclaimed, "You think very highly of yourself, my girl, and it's time for your comeuppance!"

With that, much to her surprise, I seized her by the elbow, pulled her across my lap, tugged up her skirt and nylon petticoat, exposing a most voluptuous oval-cheeked bottom, snug in a pair of beige-hued knickers. She looked back to see what I was doing , and there was no hint of anger or rebellion in her gaze, only an intense curiosity. This, together with her enigmatic little smile.

Putting my left arm around her waist, I began to smack her bottom. I admit that, at the time, this seemed awfully audacious, and inwardly my heart was pounding, because I was afraid she might denounce me to the school authorities and blacken my entire career.

You can imagine my surprise when soon I stopped after inflicting some thirty open palmed smacks upon her tossing and wriggling bottom, to have her turn her face to me and murmur huskily, "Oh, that's so nice, Frank, really so nice! Please take my knickers down and give me what I really need. It makes me ever so hot!"

Nothing loath, I found the drawstrings of her knickers and worked them down. The bright pink oval cheeks of her naked bottom leaped up at me, and at that moment I believe my destiny was determined.

I had fallen victim to the fatal lure of corporal punishment. And as you shall see in further chapters, I managed to coalesce my most ardent lust fantasies with the practical reality which corporal punishment always provides for the imaginative individual.

Once having taken her knickers down and seen the intimacy of her bare bottom, I now began to use my fingers as thongs, lifting my hand and bringing it down with a flick of my wrist so that the tips of my fingers bit against her flaming bottom much as would the tips of a martinet.

She moaned and gasped, squirmed and wriggled over my lap, until again I felt my cock stiffen with pent up virility. At last she whimpered, "Oh that's enough! Give it to me now, darling, give it to me hard, please do!"

And thus I spent in delirium for the second time that night, but this time it was even more thrilling for us both. My liaison with Meg Alesworth lasted only three months, then she told me flippantly one day that she was engaged to a sober young solicitor who was being taken into his father's firm the moment he passed his bar examinations.

I have met her since then and she is buxom, serene, with none of her youthful buoyancy and devil-may-care manner. She is the sedate mother of four boys.

But for me, Meg Alesworth was the kindling spark which lit up my psyche and made me relish with savour those future exquisite disciplinary encounters with my young female pupils which were destined to fulfil all my desires.

You will have to wait until next week to read about one such encounter. Believe me, it will be worth the wait.