It occurred to her that, unlike most of the women at the college, Josie never wore slacks. The sunny, outgoing blonde was always in skirts and blouses, or the occasional dress. The girl had a nice pair of legs, Paige had to admit, and she didn’t mind showing them off. And although the secretary wore running shoes to work, she quickly changed into low heeled pumps once she made it to her desk. Paige looked down on her own baggy corduroys and sturdy, thick, crepe-soled walking shoes. She absently plucked at the sagging flannel shirt, one of three she predictably wore with the sleeves rolled back on her straight, white arms. Her comfortable clothes had become her signature piece, almost a uniform, she now realized with a smile – a proud badge of defiance that flaunted all male expectations, of dedication to the cause. Comfortable clothes suited her. Still…? For some reason, the image of that shapely leg, extended to its full, sinuous length into the aisle, pointed toes dipping into the sleek pump, was something she couldn’t shake.

It was the second disturbing image that stuck in her mind, disturbing her thoughts at odd moments. The first one came to her a few days ago. She had been walking across the Quad towards the administrative building when she noticed a male student fixing something on his bike. The tousle-headed boy, lightly clad in a T-shirt and pair of khaki shorts, had his back to her; and, as he bent down over the front wheel assembly, he abruptly presented her with a compact, squarish butt. The seat of the thin shorts tightened over the jutting curves of the boy’s firm, young buttocks. The watching professor was stopped in her tracks. She bit her lower lip, as she stared, captivated, by the bent-over guy’s ass. The shorts had ridden up his hairy legs, straight and sinewy, with the kind of lean muscles that resulted from long hours of bike pedaling. Paige felt herself go all mushy inside. The words ‘cute butt’ came from somewhere – drifted through her mind. A shiver passed through her; she recognized it instantly for what it was – a jolt of sexual electricity. The wave of randiness passed over her, leaving her warm. She licked her lips, shook herself, and quickly lowered her head to stride on, beating a hasty retreat, with her eyes on the ground.

The revealing images held some sort of power for her. They came to her again and again with startling regularity: the sensuous lines of the feminine leg; that hard muscled, masculine butt placed so appealingly before her eyes. The very next day, after her unexpected glimpse of the secretary’s leg, young Professor Robbins felt the urge to do something she had never done before. Her students were amazed to see their professor show up for class wearing a skirt!

The floppy, checkered shirt had been replaced by a trim blouse, neatly tucked into her thin-belted waist of a black skirt. The blouse was pale violet; and, while tailored in a mannish cut, it was still quite definitely a woman’s blouse: it’s soft shade flattering to the brunette’s crisp, good looks. She had found a pair of low-heeled, black leather pumps and had changed into those once in her office, just as the secretaries did.

Now, she paused in the ladies’ room to study her slender, small-breasted figure in the full length mirror, noting with pleasure the way the above-the-knee length of her narrow skirt and the skin-tone pantyhose exhibited her long and shapely legs to their best advantage. She decided she looked pretty good – damned good!

If anyone noticed the startling transformation in the young professor’s attire, you’d never be able to tell. The women on the faculty would studiously avoid commenting on what someone wore; though she knew they noticed. And if any of the campus males turned their heads to look twice at the tall, pretty brunette striding by with those attractive legs, they were much too cowed by politically correct thought to stare, let alone offer even the most modest compliment. Still, Paige couldn’t help feeling pleased with herself as she pulled her chair up closer to the computer, eager to get to the morning’s e-mails.

 ***

 Paige Robbins spent a restless night, tossing and turning. The bedroom seemed insufferably close. It was hot and stuffy in the room; the tangled sheets were unbearably confining. She threw off the sheets, sat up abruptly to tear off her thin pajamas, freeing herself to sprawl out nude on top of the bed. She couldn’t resist touching herself, her breasts, moving a hand down her naked body to that place between her legs. Soon she was rocking, humping the hand jammed between her thighs, masturbating furiously. The orgasm exploded over her, intense and long, and deeply satisfying. In the blissful aftermath, she fell asleep, but the sexual fury was not done with her. That night she had the most intense wet dream she had ever had in her life! The next morning, the erotic dream stayed with her, continued to haunt her; a vivid memory that wouldn’t leave her alone.

In the dream, she was in her office. She was naked, or very nearly so, wearing nothing but pantyhose and heels. But it didn’t seem unusual for her to be naked; she was simply sitting there before her computer, her back to the door, when she heard a knock. Someone had entered, but she continued working as the unseen figure stepped up behind her. Dream-like, she rose to her feet, leaned over her desk, lowered herself to rest on her forearms, thrusting back her pantyhose-encased rear-end at the intruder. She remembered the feeling of hands on her hips, hands that slid around to lower her pantyhose, peeling them down over her jutting bottom, exposing her bottom to his eyes. She turned to look over her shoulder at the mysterious figure. It was then she saw the full face of the figure, smiling back at her with a wicked grin on his bearded face: Marcus Wolfe! His curled fingers had slipped into her pantyhose at each hip and were tugging the stretchy nylon down her thighs while she arched her back, presenting her naked buttocks to him, wagging her butt in lewd invitation. She shuddered at the thought of it; but a ripple of randiness slammed through her, obliterating her feelings of revulsion in its wake.

 ***

 In another bedroom, several miles away, Maddie Fox had also tossed about in troubled sleep. She seldom had vivid dreams, the kind that stay with you, and she couldn’t remember when she had last had an erotic one. But, now, as she sat up in bed and took a deep breath, she tried to shake off the persistent memories from the night that seemed so real.

 She had been in the arms of a mysterious stranger. He stood behind her with his lowered head buried in the crook of her neck. His strong arms enfolded her, and his slow warm hands were moving up and down her hungry, writhing body. She was wearing a shiny silk top, and her lover was taking his time, languidly exploring her body. His hands were slowly moving the slippery material that slid over her naked breasts while she squirmed in the intolerable heat of burgeoning arousal. Then, his lips moved, his tongue touched her and drew a wet line up her craning neck. A bold hand plunged down the front of her blouse to find and cup a small, bare breast, and fondle it in a most pleasant, dreamy caress. Her nipples were alive, tingling, the sensate tips excited, stiffening out to press into his cupping palm.

She arched back, surrendering to her masterful lover, as he felt her up and nibbled his way up her ear. Then he turned her in his arms, and she looked up for the first time to watch, in wonder, as Marcus Wolfe undid the buttons down the front of her blouse, one by one, quite deliberately exposing her body to his lustful gaze. It seemed impossible; incredible. Of all people to invade her dreams! She shivered at the memory, shook herself, ran her fingers through her hair, then got up to stagger towards the bathroom.

Excerpt from: Wednesdays With The Lady Judge

His kiss left her breathless, flushed, panting through her opened mouth, and desperately yearning to hang on to the hard, young body that now drew away from her. Still holding her loosely in his arms, he looked deep into her softened blue eyes while his hands went up to clamp her naked shoulders. Without a word, he pressed the woman to her knees. And at his silent urging, the Honorable Judge Judith Bryce-Havens, Senior Judge of the Court of Common Pleas for the great State of New Jersey, slowly lowered herself to kneel before her young lover – the handsome college boy – a boy young enough to be her son!

Her eyes took in the white jockey shorts banding his narrow hips – the telltale bulge of his manhood stood prominently before her. A throb of lust resonated through her. Being forced to her knees by her young lover brought on a most powerful surge of arousal, one that always left her breathless. For reasons she never knew, and no longer even questioned, she found that to be forced into submission like this stirred something deep within her, excited her to the very core of her being!

So now she knelt here, erect and motionless, mesmerized by the tented front of his white cotton underpants. The lad’s fully-hardened erection could be seen through those tightly-stretched briefs. Her hands rose up with a life of their own, helplessly drawn to the elastic waistband at his hips.

Through half-lidded eyes he watched her reach for him. Her curling fingers slipped into the waistband, eased his underwear down, till his suddenly freed prick sprung up to stand quivering before her. She quickly looked away to continue drawing the underpants down his straight legs, bending down to allow him to lift each bare foot in turn so she might free him from his briefs.

He couldn’t help smiling, inanely pleased to see this mature, sophisticated woman leaning into him with head submissively lowered. Looking down on the precisely styled hair – that silvery-blond head that was poised so near his throbbing sex, his grin widened. He watched her take in the sight of his erect penis, a splendid, naked cock, fully upright now and standing at rigid attention, just inches away from her wide blue eyes.

His fumbling hands found her head. Curling fingers dug into the short blond hair, tightening his grip till he held her firmly in both cradling hands. Slowly, he drew her into him and, at the same time, shoved his hips forward till she found herself held tightly against his body – Miriam Bryce-Haven’s tastefully made-up face jammed into this randy college boy’s hot, sweaty crotch.

With her face buried between the boy’s thighs, Miriam closed her eyes to let the intoxicating smell of his pungent sweat fill her flaring nostrils: a raw, musky smell - a man smell. The haze of moist pubic hair tickled her nose. He arched up, pushing her lower, pressing her in to nuzzle deep into his under arch, her nose against his lightly-furred scrotum. She inhaled deeply, drinking of him, taking in that masculine scent she found between his legs. ‘God, I loved the way he smells,’ she thought. Her hands felt their way up the back of his bare legs till they cupped those tight boyish buttocks.

With those well-manicured fingers tightening on his hard, clenching butt, Blake rose up on his toes, squirming, writhing up to let her get the full feel of his needy prick, rubbing up along her cheek, his smooth, hard, young cock pressed against her flushed face. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes to allow himself to savor the moment, sensuously rubbing himself all over the lightly-powdered face of this elegant woman who knelt at his feet.

“Kiss it!” It was a husky voice, one that held the note of quiet authority that thrilled her, never failed to send a shiver down her spine. His was a mastery so very rare, seldom found in a grown man, and almost never in a youth, even such a reckless, self-confident one. And yet this boy had it. He was special – a man-child who had an easy way with women of all ages; a young man who was sure of himself and who had somehow come to dominate her life. She swallowed the knot of lust that rose up to constrict her throat. Her mouth was dry; she licked her painted lips and dutifully kissed his intolerably hard, youthful cock, just under the taut crown.

He held her there for a few seconds, her lips pressed to his penis then the pressure on her head eased, though he still kept her captive, her face between his hands. He tilted her head back until she was looking up at him her wide blue eyes, soft and unfocused, glazed with desire.

“Yeah…that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want cock…my cock. You want to suck it, don’t you?”

Looking up at him, Miriam’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“SAY IT!”

She swallowed, twice.

“Yes…I want your cock. I want to suck your gorgeous cock,” she whispered breathlessly. She was burning up now, huddled over, her small sagging breasts dangling loosely, heaving with the effort of her panted words.

Blake smiled, wildly elated. Fingering his lust-swollen prick, he tilted it toward the older woman who was kneeling at his feet.

“Oh, yeah, you’re gonna suck it real good. Go on now...suck it! Suck my cock!”

The naked penis seemed to beckon her. She leaned into him, stuck out her tongue, lovingly lapping her way up that quivering shaft from the base to the very tip of the boy’s straining manhood. They she licked hungrily, lavishly, holding him clenched in one hand while she worked him over in a frenzy of wild enthusiasm.

He closed his eyes to give himself up to the tickling feelings that slavishly working tongue were generating in his loins. The moan he tried to stifle with tightly-pressed lips forced its way through to emerge as a helpless whimper. The sound of his plaintive surrender brought on a massive surge of lust, driving the woman on in her single-minded obsession, wildly desperate to please her man. She bent her head and took him in, went down on him; soon he was guiding her bobbing head between his hands while she tightened the ring of her lips and sucked him with grim determination.

He groaned; his weakened hands fell away, only to clamp her shoulders and tighten on them, pressing in a death grip, determined as he was to hold on, to cling to his sanity for just a few seconds more while the unstoppable rise of creamy pleasure threatened to erupt from his pumping loins.

Her head was bobbing furiously now; her fingers tightly clenching his hardened butt. She had her man teetering on the very brink of ecstasy when he abruptly clamped her face between his hands and held her to still the pistoning motion. Looking down, he found her questioning blue eyes looking up at his from under a shock of smooth blond hair.

Blake grabbed his throbbing prick from her, and his familiar touch instantly brought on a tremendous upsurge of erupting sperm. He clenched his teeth while rearing back to jack off furiously, aiming right at the face of the kneeling woman, shooting thick gobs of his cream on her brow, her cheeks, across her closed eyes, and even in her hair. Soon sticky strings of the young man’s sperm decorated the mature blond face of the attractive lady judge.