C Is for Coeds, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Introduction
SUGAR
YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND
MO
THIS WEEK
CUNNILINGUS 101
SHADY WAYS
COLLEGE REUNION
JANELLE’S SPANKOLOGY 101
I WANTED HIM TO FEEL IT
CALL ME JENNY
WHILE SHE WAS DANCING
ON FINDING JON’S PORN
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cheerful Commendations go to:
Adam Nevill
Barbara Pizio
Felice Newman
Frédérique Delacoste
Diane Levinson
Violet Blue
and SAM, always.
Personally, I am always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught.
—WINSTON CHURCHILL
INTRODUCTION:
EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES
CLOSE YOUR EYES.
Breathe in deep.
Can you smell that?
Fallen leaves stirred by crisp breezes. Autumn is in the air. Back-to-school sales are featured in every shiny newspaper pull-out. And I’m flashing back to my days at UCLA. I was a vague, daydreaming sort of student, focused far more on my off-campus jobs—working on newspapers and for indie magazines and on a radio station—than on my homework.
Yet I loved the atmosphere of the school. Loved being able to say I was a college coed. Oh, what a thrill, what a perfect description. The words rolled off my tongue at parties. And the men’s eyes always lit up.
There is something so damn sexy about the pulse that beats on campuses. If I could have simply skipped the lectures—why on earth did I take Christian Iconography or Ancient Chinese Artifacts?—and basked in the hot sun at the sculpture garden, eavesdropped all day in the campus coffeehouses, and fucked against the outdoor balconies in my dorm house, without the guilt that plagued me, I would have scored an A+ in every single one of my outrageous extracurricular activities.
I probably would also have been able to pay more attention in class had I taken courses called “Cunnilingus 101” (a slippery sex story by the divine Rachel Kramer Bussel) or “Janelle’s Spankology 101” (Michelle Houston’s thrilling spanking three-way). I’d have creamed to be over the lap of the professor in Greta Christina’s “This Week,” and even if I never attend a “College Reunion,” I can fantasize about visiting one like Andrea Dale’s.
What makes college tales so ferociously erotic? Colleges are places not just of intellectual awakening, but also erotic awakening—like in “Sugar” by Brooke Stern and “While She Was Dancing” by Thomas S. Roche. And coeds appeal not only to each other, but also to their elders—as witness the seductive “Call Me Jenny” by the ever-sultry Savannah Stephens Smith.
Whether you’re heading back to school, or recalling the gold-drenched days of your own university adventures, C Is for Coeds should undoubtedly be at the top of your required reading list.
XXX,
Alison Tyler
BROOKE STERN
SUGAR
CALL ME CRAZY, but after I heard from Ted that Megan wanted to be spanked, she was the only thing I could think about that whole semester.
She didn’t live in our dorms. She lived in the girls’ dorms across campus, that promised land where we freshmen never set foot. I never found out how Ted met Megan. She just appeared one day, riding shotgun in his car and wearing all black. She popped cassettes that we’d never heard before in and out of the stereo as we drove. I would have been too scared to go out with someone from a tribe so different from our own, but Ted wasn’t. Because she was with him, we accepted her, like we accepted it when he told us where we were going or what we were doing. Besides, it’s not as if the rest of us were bringing many girls around that semester.
Anyway, a few days after we met her, Ted dropped the bombshell. We were drinking beer and playing Nintendo in Scott’s dorm room, and Ted said, “Remember Megan? Well, she sucked my dick and asked me if I’d spank her.” Scott asked if he was bullshitting and he said no. I was dying to ask whether he did it or not, but I didn’t want to seem too interested. Then Ted answered my question without my even having to ask. “I’m not into sick shit like that,” he said, and we all hooted and told him to shut up and threw Scott’s dirty clothes at him. Ted was exactly the guy who was into sick shit like that. He claimed to have fucked a senior Kappa girl up the ass. We all knew he was most likely lying, but still we jacked off to the thought of it. We didn’t hassle him about stories like that because otherwise we might have gotten hassled about our own stories. Most of us were still virgins, but we had been lying about it since prom, and it was as if we had some secret agreement to accept each other’s stories without asking too many questions.
Even after six beers, I could hardly sleep that night for thinking about Megan. I got up as if to piss, but I walked to the bathroom at the other end of the hall so no one would walk in while I was jerking off. Afterward, though, I thought it was a pretty stupid thing to want to do, and Ted was probably lying anyway.
Megan wasn’t in Ted’s car next time he came around, and we didn’t ask what had happened. Even after a few weeks passed and Ted began to regale us with stories of some other conquest, Megan was the one I remembered. Maybe the other guys stopped thinking about her, but I didn’t. Well, I should say that I didn’t stop thinking about spanking—a lifelong interest that I didn’t dare tell anyone about—and she was the first real girl I’d ever had to put a face on my fantasies. After a while, though, she became as distant from reality as my elaborate masturbatory fantasies of bare bottoms raised to meet stinging slaps or white cotton panties red with blood from a wicked caning.
Toward the end of the semester, we were required to go and hear some motivational speaker out at the college’s retreat center. After a while, I had had enough and was wandering slowly in the direction of the portajohns when I heard someone say hi to me. I’d been looking down, kicking a nut or something, and when I looked up, I saw Megan standing just a few feet in front of me.
“Pretty lame, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Ted here?”
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
“Yeah.”
It got silent and I didn’t want her to go, but I couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t stupid. It was beyond me to be clever or witty; it took all my concentration just to keep from looking at her ass.
“Want to go for a walk?” she finally asked. Thank God.
“Yeah.”
We walked silently while I wished I had said something other than”yeah” three times. She kicked the nut I had been kicking and then I kicked it again. I dug my hands in my pockets and was glad when our elbows accidentally touched.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Jeez, Brian. Say something.”
“Something.”
She started to laugh.
“Now I can see why Ted said you never get laid.”
Shit. If I had been tongue-tied before, it was twice as bad now. She turned and faced me, upping an ante that was already too rich for a coward like me.
“Tell me what you like, Brian.”
She was so beautiful it was scary. I said the first thing I saw.
“I like your eyes.”
“That’s so stupid. I mean, what do you like to do?”
“When?”
“When do you think?”
“I like to go down on girls.”
I thought that sounded gutsy. Even though I’d never done it, girls were supposed to love it.
“That’s better.”
We started walking again.
“Know what I like?”
“No.”
“Ted didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“I like to be spanked.”
“Have you ever been spanked?”
“Have you ever gone down on a girl?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Gone down on a girl?”
“No, idiot. Been spanked.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah.”
We started kissing. As soon as I thought it would be okay, I grabbed her ass, kneading the flesh and hoping she would know how badly I wanted to spank her. Then she stopped kissing me.
“Don’t just feel my ass. Tell me what you want to do to it.”
“I want to spank it.”
“And?”
“I want to pull down your panties and spank it.”
“Go on.”
“I want to make you pull down your panties and make you lie over my lap and spank you ten times, as hard as I can.”
“That’s better.”
We both laughed, not sure if we were serious. I went to kiss her again but she backed away.
“I dare you.”
“What?”
“Are you slow or something?”
“Here?”
“You’re the boss. You tell me.”
We weren’t too deep into the woods. It was getting dark, but we could still hear the motivational speaker over the P.A. system and the crowd clapping. My friends would have expected me back ten minutes ago.
“Pull down your pants.”
So help me, she did.
“And your panti es.”
It was the first time I’d even seen it.
I sat down on a fallen tree and told her to lie across my lap.
It was impossibly awkward, but she managed it anyway. I raised my hand above my head and spanked her once. It wasn’t hard, not nearly as hard as I could, but still I spanked her. It was loud and I was terrified someone might hear. She let out a giggle. It was probably because she was nervous, but I worried she was laughing at me, so I spanked her again, harder this time because she had giggled. I alternated cheeks—oh, miraculous cheeks—with each spank, watching my red handprints appear, confirming that I was actually doing it. My head was throbbing, and if it had been possible for a nineteen-year-old to burst a blood vessel and have a stroke, I would have. I literally felt light-headed by the time we got to ten, and I had no idea what to do next. Luckily, she just slid down to her knees between my legs, undid my pants, and began sucking my cock. It wasn’t hard and I thought she would think the worst of me, but she was unfazed and took no time at all to become the first girl to ever make me come.
My hands tingled and my knees felt weak when I stood up. I was still brushing dirt and bits of bark off my pants and trying to coax my hard on down when I slid into the seat next to Ted.
“There was a line,” I whispered to him. He rolled his eyes.
When I called her, I was afraid it would be awkward and we wouldn’t be able to talk about it. I shouldn’t have worried.
“How are you?” I asked
“My butt’s a little sore. How are you?”
Oh, my God.
“Fine.”
“You don’t say much, do you, Brian?”
“I guess not.”
“That’s okay. I still like you.”
That was exactly the sort of thing that usually tripped me up, but this time I got it right.
“I like you too, Megan.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls you spank.”
“Whatever.”
She wasn’t the only one who could be snide.
“You want to come over?”
“Is your roommate there?”
“Of course not.”
“You want me to bring some beer?” I asked, trying to make up for being lame.
“Is beer all guys can think about?”
“No.”
All I could think about was spanking her, but I was too scared to say it.
“Then get over here and we’ll try to come up with something better to do than get drunk.”
It was just after school, and light poured in through her window. In the light of day, it was even scarier. Even she didn’t have anything smart to say, so we just started kissing. Then we stopped and I knew what to do. I sat down and she began to unbuckle her belt but then she mumbled something that might have been “Wait a minute,” and started rummaging through her dresser. A catalog of everything that I could possibly have done wrong passed through my head before she turned around and walked back to me.
“Use this,” she said, her voice soft, cracking.
She handed me a paddle, lacquered pine, about eight inches long and a third of an inch thick. I took it by the handle and it was heavier than I thought it would be.
She pulled her jeans and panties down to the crook of her knees and lay across my lap. She stretched her arms out on the couch, gripping the end of the cushion as if she had done this before. I patted her bare ass with the paddle before the first spank, wondering how hard to do it and not wanting to mess up. She grunted with the first hard stroke and gasped with the second, her breath catching in her throat with the initial sting and then releasing through her grimacing face. It was way more serious than in the woods. The paddle made a cracking sound when it hit her skin. It wasn’t sexy like it was when I fantasized about it. It wasn’t light or fun or playful. It was scary, because I was afraid of doing the wrong thing. I was glad when I got to ten and could stop. By then, she was crying, but I don’t think it was really because it hurt. It wasn’t that kind of crying. It was more like a paddling was just the sort of thing that could make you cry.
We cuddled on the couch for a while, without kissing or anything. She held me with one of her hands; with the other she gently stroked the red skin on her behind. I could tell by the way she laid her head on my shoulder that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I stroked her hair and she didn’t seem so scary anymore. When I kissed the top of her head, she began to cry harder, as if she had thought of something that made her really sad. Maybe her whole smart-mouth attitude was just to protect her from feeling like this. She sniffled and I handed her a Kleenex from the end table. She sat up and blew her nose. Then she looked up at me, using her thumb and pinkie to pull her hair, wet with tears, back from her face.
“Did you like the paddle?” she asked, trying to be light. She smiled underneath her sniffles.
“I dunno. Did you?”
“Goddamn it, Brian. Don’t you ever say anything?” She started crying again.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” What I had meant to say was that I didn’t think it was really about whether or not I liked the paddle.
“Yeah, Brian. I love the fucking paddle. I love it so much. That’s why I wanted you to spank me with it. Because I have this thing about having Daddy spank me, and I keep hoping to find someone who’ll be this crazy Daddy fantasy thing for me and call me ‘Sugar,’ and it’s just hopeless so I don’t know why I do it.”
Why was she mad at me?
“You want me to pretend I’m your daddy?”
“No, shithead. I want someone to be the man I always fantasize about, but if you have to ask, you can’t be him.”
“Oh.”
If I wasn’t doing too well at this, that’s because this wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to me. I had only heard about this stuff from other people. Sex games that go too far; girls who spill their guts to you: I’d heard about this stuff, but it didn’t happen in my world. I was outside of it, almost as if I were watching it on TV or in a movie.
I wondered how this would sound to the guys in a dorm room drinking beer. At least now I would have a story to tell that wasn’t a complete lie. Except that this wasn’t the kind of thing that you told people about. I had finally made it to the land of sex and drama, only to learn that you didn’t do things like this just so you could impress your friends.
She started to cry even more.
“Hey,” I said and held her to me. “Hey.”
But she wouldn’t be soothed. I looked out the window, dumbfounded, a bare-bottomed girl beside herself in my lap. She was bawling so hard that she was choking. I thought of something and at first there was no way in hell I was going to do it, but then I couldn’t stand it any longer so I did.
“Sugar?”
She stopped mid-sob and looked up at me. It wasn’t a look I had ever seen on anyone’s face before.
“You need another paddling, uh, Sugar.”
I said it as a statement but also as a question. She could veto it. She could tell me it wasn’t working for her, that it was making it worse, but she didn’t.
“Yes…Daddy.”
The spell was cast. Her voice wasn’t smart or sarcastic, and mine wasn’t scared or timid.
“You know what happens when you get in trouble, don’t you, Sugar?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She got up and then lay facedown over my lap.
“Daddy’s going to give his little girl thirty swats with the paddle now.”
“No, Daddy, I’m too sore. You just spanked me. That’s too many.”
“You’re going to get whatever I say, Sugar. You know better than to argue. You’ll get extra strokes if you’re not careful.”
“But Daddy…” and she started to cry again, only this time it was different. She was crying as if the worst thing in the world was the spanking she was going to get. It was like she was little again, before it all felt so hopeless, before you were too scared to tell someone what you were thinking. I still don’t know what to do about those things, but at that moment, I knew exactly what to do. I raised the paddle up in the air and brought it down hard.
“One…”
N. T. MORLEY
YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND
