2018/01/31

Wet Dreams 2

(Sequel to Wet Dreams)

I had the dream again last night. But this time I had the definite feeling that He had watched me playing with myself, that He had seen me put my hand in my panties and touch and rub and feel so good… He didn’t need to ask me about it but it was a million times more embarrassing to think that He had seen me. Then at the end He didn’t tell me I was a good girl or a naughty girl, so I had to say that I needed Him to spank me, but this time that wasn’t enough, just to have to say it out loud. I had to beg. I had to beg Him for the spanking I need, please Sir please spank my bare bottom hard, please Sir make my bottom sore and red and hot and aching, please oh please oh please Sir make me cry out loud with every swat, I want to cry for you Sir, oh please. And finally I convinced him with wide eyes and blushing and begging but I woke up like I always do, just when his hand was coming down. Oh, god, what do I do? How am I going to find Him for real? I’m not even allowed to go on a date yet.

— Frenulum

2018/01/28

Wet Dreams

In my dream there’s a man about my Dad’s age, but not my Dad, someone I just dream of, and he has grey hair and wears a grey suit and a white shirt and a tie, and he has glasses. And he asks me questions, really embarrassing ones, sex questions: are you a virgin? Have you made out with a boy? Do you even know how big an erection is, have you ever seen one? I have to answer and I can’t lie and I have to use sentences, like Yes, Sir, I am a virgin. I blush and want to look away but I’m not allowed to, I have to look right at him while I answer: Yes, Sir, I touch myself in bed at night. Yes I masturbate. Yes I play with my clit, Sir, almost every night, Sir. Each dream has different questions but I always have to confess about masturbating while I look him straight in the eyes and blush. Then the dream ends in one of three ways. He tells me I’m a naughty girl and he needs to give me a spanking. Or he tells me I’m a good girl and he needs to give me a spanking. Or he just waits until I blurt out that I need him to spank me hard, which is my least favorite ending but the one that happens most. Then I have to take off my nightie and my panties and he can see all of me naked, and then I lie across his lap with my bottom bare and he lifts his hand… and I wake up then, because I’ve never had a spanking so I don’t know how to dream one. I wake up, night after night, with the sheets soggy from my juice. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I hope it doesn’t stop.

— Frenulum

2018/01/21

Experimenting for Science

Monday afternoon, half an hour after the end of the school day. Quiet had already descended on the building, when four seniors emerged from the places they had waited inconspicuously, assuring departing teachers that they were about to leave and could let themselves out. Jen in the orchestra library, filing a stack of parts, Kelly at the computer in the yearbook office, Madison in the weight room tidying equipment away, Lexi studying in the main library. They made their separate ways to the Science floor and met at the door of room 313, Mr. Green’s classroom for Biology, AP Biology, and Anatomy. Kelly opened the door a crack and checked the room, then waved everyone in. She hit the bank of switches by the door, and the overhead lights came on.

“Everything ok?” she asked her friends.

“I checked the faculty parking lot five minutes ago,” Jen answered. “It’s empty.”

“There are two cars in Senior parking,” Lexi added. “One’s mine.”

“The other one’s mine,” said Kelly. “Okay, then, I think we’re good to go.” She looked at each of her friends in turn, seeing excitement and embarrassment blended on each face. They all knew what the gathering was for, but Kelly reviewed it regardless.

“When my sister took Anatomy, and they got to Reproduction, there was all this talk about orgasms,” she began. “And the girls who didn’t know what that meant felt really left out and stupid, which really sucked because the girls who knew were, like, all superior and snobby. So we’re not going to be the stupid ones this year.”

There were nods all around. Each of the girls had overcome her doubts about the extracurricular studies; the two others who had been invited had been unable to overcome their apprehension and begged off, with a vow of secrecy.

“Ok, let’s get started,” Kelly said. As the source of all sex-related information for the group, thanks to the advantages of a big sister rather than any personal experience, she was the group’s natural leader. “Grab a seat, get comfortable.” As the four girls found places to perch, one desktop for each, Kelly continued. “So, orgasms. Orgasms are what happens when you have sex, and it’s the part that feels good. But it doesn’t happen right away, you have to be, like, excited, and, um, you have to do the sex for a while before it happens.”

“But you don’t have to have sex, right?” Lexi piped up, fairly sure but wanting one last reassurance.

“Right. You can have the orgasm by yourself without losing your virginity.”

“But if you do it yourself, that’s against the Bible, isn’t it?” Jen asked.

Kelly had that answer ready. “No. My sister thought the same thing, but she told me it’s ok unless you stop wanting to, like, get married and have kids and the other stuff about sex. It’s not a sin to practice first, and that’s all we’re doing.”

“Just so we know about orgasms in class,” Madison added. “Not because we’re sluts.”

“We’re not sluts!” Jen exclaimed.

“No, I know, that’s what I’m sayin’. We’re not having sex all over the place, we’re just… getting ready for Repro next month.”

“Can somebody tell me what sex really means?” Lexi blurted. She blushed brightly as soon as the words were out.

“We’ll get the whole scoop in Anatomy,” Kelly assured her. “But it’s basically when you get with a boy and his, um, you know, he, um, puts his penis inside you.”

“Inside?” Lexi looked disbelieving. “What, right inside, not just close?”

“Pretty sure inside,” said Jen. Kelly nodded in agreement and, seeing that, Madison joined in.

“Oh. My. God,” Lexi said. “It’s worse than I thought. I mean, I knew you had to take your clothes off and lie real close and rub around, they show that on TV… but… inside, really?” The others confirmed this terrifying fact.

“Anyway.” Kelly tried to resume the original conversation. “We’re here to try to have orgasms, and learn what it feels like, for science class. And nobody’s a slut and nobody’s having sex and nobody’s losing her cherry.”

“Cherry?”

“Virginity. Your first time — this doesn’t count as a time, so we’ll all still be virgins. Also, it won’t hurt, it’ll just feel good.” She gathered looks from her friends. “Ok, so, ready?” Kelly pulled her feet up on to the table. Sitting with her knees up, her tartan kilt didn’t offer her any modesty; the other girls all had a clear view of Kelly’s panties, stretched over her private parts. “So, what you have to do is… put one hand in your panties, like this.”

Kelly slid one hand under the waistband of her panties. Her friends could easily see the outline of her fingers as her hand slipped over her mons and onto her labia. “Come on, I’m not going to be the only one.”

With varying degrees of trepidation, the other teens followed suit. Legs up, legs parted, one hand slowly venturing between soft cloth and secret, private, forbidden flesh. The quartet of blushes looked like a floral bouquet. Lexi, Jen, and Madison carefully avoided looking at each other, but they did steal glances at Kelly to see what they should do.

“So you can try different things,” Kelly instructed. “Rub with your fingers on the outside, or you can put one inside and touch like that, or you can even, like, hold your pussy open —”

“What does that mean?” Jen interrupted. “Pussy?”

“Your private parts. Your vagina and lips and everything. That’s just a word people use for all the girl stuff,” Kelly explained. She looked between Jen’s parted thighs and saw where her hand was. “Jen, you gotta go farther down in your panties — you’re not really touching your… your pussy yet.”

Jen’s blush deepened. “What, like, down where I pee?”

“Yeah. On the lips, the parts that open.”

“I don’t feel anything special,” Madison piped up. “I must not be doing it right. Kelly, I can’t see what you’re doing.”

“Me either,” Lexi added.

“Oh, for — ok, ok, I don’t care who sees what,” Kelly replied. She pulled her hand out of her panties, then used both hands to slip them over her hips, down her legs, and off. For good measure, she unfastened her kilt and let it fall onto the desk behind her. “There, everyone have a good view now?”

Stunned at Kelly’s boldness, the other girls could only mumble assent. They stared, transfixed, at their friend’s bare pussy, so much clearer than the illustrations in the Anatomy textbook — at which they had all peeked at the beginning of the term. They were even more attentive when Kelly reached down and used her fingers to spread her labia apart.

“Ok, this is my pussy, see? That’s the vagina right there. That’s where the penis goes inside you when you really do sex, Lexi, ok? And here’s the hole for peeing —”

“I don’t see anything,” Madison interrupted.

“It’s tiny. Then these are, like, another set of lips, which are usually hidden inside.”

“Mine aren’t,” Jen said, and blushed even harder.

“What do you mean?”

Jen looked around at the other girls, seeing their puzzlement and interest. Her three best friends forever, close and trusted and safe. She hopped off the desk, took her kilt off, pushed her panties down, stepped out of them, and resumed her seat and her open-legged position. “See?” She pointed. “Mine aren’t hidden inside. They stick out all the time.” Struck with a sudden fear that this was abnormal, Jen looked anxiously from one girl to the next.

“I didn’t know that could be different,” Kelly admitted.

“I’m kind of in between,” said Madison. Then she too stripped off skirt and panties to let everyone see her personal anatomy. “Not hidden away like yours, but not so sticky-out as yours.”

Suddenly, Jen found herself the focus of three gazes. “I don’t know!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I never looked at myself.” Nobody reacted. “Oh, ok, fine,” Jen pouted, as she joined the others in stripping herself bare. Everyone looked.

“Like Kelly,” Madison said.

“You have hair,” Jen observed. “I thought you were supposed to shave that off.”

“You are,” said Kelly, “My sister told me. My mom told me about pits and legs, but my sister had to tell me about shaving my pussy. Or you can get it waxed, but not ’til you’re eighteen.”

“Everybody on the swim team is bare,” Madison offered. “That’s how I knew to do it.”

“Well nobody told me,” Lexi said, defensively. “Now I know, ok? So don’t make a big deal about it.”

Kelly took over the lesson once more. “Ok, so, anyway, up here where the inside lips meet? That’s your clitoris. That’s the spot that feels best when you rub it, but not too hard, ok? You have to start slowly, like this.” Kelly masturbated as the others watched, sliding her fingers slowly up and down, stroking gently. “Or this.” She moved her hand in small circles.

“You’re getting shiny,” Madison observed.

“Yes. Getting wet. That’s supposed to happen.”

“Really?” said Lexi.

“Yeah. When you do sex for real it makes you slippery so the penis can go inside. But it happens anyway when you’re by yourself.” Kelly looked at the others, all of whom were watching her with fascination on their faces. “Come on, you guys, you’re supposed to do this too. You’re not going to know what orgasms are if you don’t try yourself.”

Jen, Lexi, and Madison began to frig their virgin pussies, copying Kelly’s motions. In the brightly lit classroom, each girl had three outstanding examples to watch as she manipulated her own quim.

“I still don’t feel anything special,” Madison said after a few minutes of silent exploration.

“You have to be in the right mood,” Kelly replied. “Think about a boy you like — think about kissing him, or being in bed with him, or… feeling him touch you on your pussy.” That startling idea actually caused Madison and Lexi to cool off a bit. Jen, on the other hand, responded to the fantasy, albeit with a slight change. She pictured herself in bed with Kelly, feeling Kelly’s touch on her private parts.

“I’m getting wet now too,” Jen announced. Everyone looked.

Four frigging teenage girls played and watched and learned and drifted into fantasies, feeling various degrees of pleasure from their studies.

“Kelly, are you ok?” Madison asked suddenly. Kelly was breathing hard, and her bare bottom was squirming against the desktop. In lieu of an answer, she moaned, squeezed her eyes shut, and climaxed.

The other girls forgot to masturbate as they watched Kelly’s body spasm, fingers flying on her quim, hips lifting and falling, face flushed, head back, calling out wordlessly. In time her tremors subsided and her breathing calmed.

“That’s an orgasm,” Kelly informed her classmates. “I think it was. Pretty sure. Oh, god, that was so good.”

“Nobody else did one, though,” Jen complained. “We all need to do it.”

Madison looked up at the clock. “It’s getting late. Can everyone meet here tomorrow, just like today?” All agreed.

“It gets easier the more you practice,” Kelly asserted, relying once more on sisterly advice. “Maybe tomorrow it’ll work for someone else.”

“We can keep studying until everyone knows about orgasms,” Madison said. “Nobody gets left out.”

The girls slipped into their panties, wrapped themselves in their uniform kilts, turned off the lights, and left the classroom. Lexi drove herself home, and Kelly took the others.

Lexi thought: I have to shave my parts when I get home, so they don’t think I’m a freak.

Kelly thought: as soon as I’m in bed tonight I’m gonna have another one.

Madison thought: it’s so cool to have a secret and some good friends who are in on it.

Jen thought: maybe tomorrow, I’ll ask Kelly to show me what to do, with her fingers.


Mr. Green, teacher of Biology, AP Biology, and Anatomy, liked to organize his thoughts by making lists. He sat at his desk in his tiny office, adjacent to the science classroom, and took out a clean sheet of paper.

“Video equipment,” he wrote. “Hands-free cameras, 2. Hand-held camera, 1.” He looked out through the observation window at the classroom, considering where to place a couple of GoPro camcorders inconspicuously. They could take in the general view, while he shot hand-held through the window and zoomed in on the hottest shots. With the lights off in the office, and the classroom brightly lit, he knew the observation window was essentially one-way. All he had to do was keep quiet and lock the door.

“Uber,” was his next entry. Then, “Call body shop.” His car was in for repairs and was supposed to be ready mid-week, but he would Uber in to work again for as long as the study group continued. It had been good to overhear that the girls checked the parking lot for safety.

Finally, he wrote four names down. “Jen. Kelly. Lexi. Madison.” When they were done with their after-school trysts, he would risk showing the recordings to one girl, and explaining that exposure and humiliation and shame could be spared for the small price of one fresh teenage maidenhead. But only one girl, and he would have to decide which one was least likely to turn him in. He considered the four names. Four personalities. Four attitudes toward sex. Four quite different bodies, each girl appealing in her own ways. Four unique faces. Four fantasies to occupy his imagination.

He pondered the list for several minutes. Then Mr. Green circled a name.

— Frenulum

[This story was inspired by this image, the origins of which I do not know]

2018/01/11

Paddle in Plaid

Gwen Marsden was preparing dinner. Her eyes were on the cutting board, her hands busy with the knife and a row of fresh veggies. She stood at the kitchen counter, an apron covering her dress, her hair pinned up, apparently absorbed in the work.

But her thoughts were entirely with her daughter, Virginia. Ginny was deviating from her normal after-school routine. For one thing, she was still in her school uniform — what she derisively called the “Clone Costume” — instead of in soft and roomy fleece. Changing was usually the top after-school priority. For another, she was hanging around the kitchen rather than disappearing to her private bedroom and the enticing secret world of social media. It was evident to Gwen that Ginny had something on her mind; she chopped carrots and was patient.

Ginny got a glass of water from the fridge, then wandered over to her mother’s side. “What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Wild rice soup with turkey, and some bread I made this morning.” Gwen replied. “If you’re hungry now, a roll could go missing and nobody would complain.”

“Not now.” Ginny leaned back against the counter where her mother was working, not making eye contact. “Hey, Mom?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“How come you have a spatula that matches my kilt?”

“This one, you mean?” Gwen asked, extracting the right one from the jar of kitchen implements.

“Yeah. That’s the same plaid, right?”

“Mmm-hmm. The Saint Catherine’s tartan.”

“Ummm…” Ginny hesitated, but found the courage to continue. “Where did you get it?”

Gwen smiled, finally understanding what subject was on her daughter’s mind. She dried her hands on her apron and turned to take in Ginny’s deep blush and averted eyes. She considered her options briefly, but her usual policy was to answer even difficult questions honestly, and there was no reason to make an exception.

“Well, when I was at Saint Kate’s, back in the age of dinosaurs —”

“Oh, Mom.”

“Two of my friends and I got into a bit of trouble one day.”

“What did you do?” Ginny exclaimed, finally looking her mother in the face.

“We… hmm, let’s say, we coöperated with each other during a Chemistry quiz.”

“You cheated?”

“We… pooled our resources. Let’s leave it at that. Anyway, we were found out, and got sent to the Vice Principal’s office.” Gwen’s eyes looked back over the years. “Mr. Fischer. Just a young man at the time — though of course we girls thought anyone in a suit and tie was the same age as our parents — very handsome, and there were a few students who might have had a little crush.”

“Did you?”

“No, not really. Anyway, each of us got turned over for a good hard spanking, by hand at first but winding up with the St. Catherine’s tartan spatula.”

“Mom!”

“And at the end, Mr. Fischer gave us each one to take home ‘to remind your parents how to deal with bad behavior’ — and I’ve had it ever since.”

Ginny took the rubber paddle from her mother’s hand. “This is — you got a spanking at school, with this exact thing?”

“That’s right.” Gwen smiled softly at her daughter’s stunned expression. “It was the only time, but I have to admit it helped me get serious about school.”

“Did you — did he — were… did you have to, um, y’know…” Ginny’s blushing returned with a fury. She fingered the hem of her kilt.

Gwen caught on. “Lift our kilts and drop our panties? Yes, indeed we did. Panties around our ankles and bent over a desk.”

“Weren’t you embarrassed?” Ginny gasped.

“Oh good lord yes. Mortified. Bare my butt for a teacher? A man? I can’t even tell you — the spanking hurt a lot, Ginny, but being exposed like that was the truly awful part of the punishment.”

Gwen turned back to the counter and resumed her work. “So tell me, Ginny, why the sudden interest?”

Ginny walked over to the table where she had shed her backpack. She unzipped the pack and reached inside. When she turned back to face her mother, she was holding a spatula, its blade matching the colors and pattern of her kilt. “Mr. Fischer is still at the school,” she said, avoiding her mother’s eyes, “And he still gives these out when he spanks girls for the first time.”

“Oh, Virginia.” Gwen’s face was full of sympathy as she abandoned her cooking and went to give her daughter a hug.

Ginny’s self-control vanished and tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry. It was just supposed to be… I don’t know, funny or fun or… I didn’t mean…”

“Shh… There, there. What in the world did you get up to?”

Ginny sniffled. “Y’know how all the grades are on line? Well… I kind of… I hacked in and I — I changed all the grades for everybody to A-plus.”

Feeling an inappropriate grin about to bloom, Gwen forced herself to look concerned. “You hacked in? I didn’t know you could do that kind of thing.”

“Well — it’s not really hacking, it’s just that the admin password is TEACHER123, which is so lame it’s practically an invitation, and so… Oh, Mom, I just thought it would be funny, but it turns out that the older teachers still keep real grade books but the newer ones just trusted the computer, so for a lot of classes there’s no way to figure out what the real grades used to be, so the teachers are super pis— super angry at me, so I got sent to Mr. Fischer, and… maybe tomorrow I’ll think that pulling my panties down for him was the worst part but right this minute I think the worst part is how much it hurt.”

More tears welled up and ran down Ginny’s cheeks. “And now I have to give you this to remind you how to deal with me, and I don’t know if that means now you’re going to start spanking me too, or Daddy, or what, and I’m scared and I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t mean to make you mad at me and all the teachers and all the other girls and everybody and I’m really sorry…”

Then her sobs grew wordless, as she buried her face against her mother’s shoulder. Gwen stroked her daughter’s hair and held her close while she calmed.

“What happens now?” Ginny asked, her face still hidden.

“When your father gets home we’ll talk, and he’ll decide if you’ve learned from your mistake or if you need some… extra help at home. I promise he would never spank you unless he absolutely had to. So there’s no point in getting all worked up right now. Why don’t you go wash your face and change out of your school clothes — you can get your homework started or help me with dinner.”

“Okay,” Ginny murmured. She disengaged herself from her mother’s arms, grabbed her backpack, and headed up to her bedroom. Gwen stood for a moment, lost in thought, then bestirred herself and put Ginny’s tartan spatula in the jar with her own girlhood memento.

A few minutes later, Ginny returned, in sweats and ponytail, looking fresh and pretty. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, dear.”

“How come you keep your St. Kate’s spatula? You could’ve thrown it away a long time ago.”

Gwen smiled. “Oh… your father likes to use it from time to time.”

“Daddy? Daddy never bakes, why would he —” Ginny stopped suddenly. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh. Mom. Mom, really?”

Gwen’s smile broadened. “Even mothers make mistakes and need help now and then,” she said, to Ginny’s continued astonishment. “Now how about if you get the rice started? Your father will be home in an hour.”

— Frenulum

(Inspired by spotting a variety of tartan-patterned spatulas in a Williams-Sonoma store. The tale sprang to mind in an instant.)