Dirty Erotic Oneshots, Mistress_ Red [autobiographies to read txt] 📗

Lance and Sandra eyed each other like two boxers in the ring. He flashed a smile. This was going to be fun... 

"So now what?" he asked with genuine curiosity. 

"You order some food and we talk," she explained with a condescending air. "Haven't you ever been in a restaurant before?" 

Truth be told, Lance hadn't been inside one for ages. The place bummed him out. Truth be told, he wanted to grab his date by the hips, fling her onto the table, and fuck her in front of all patrons. 

"What are you thinking?" she asked. 

Lance just grinned again. 

"Yeah, I thought so," purred the she-devil with just a hint of a smile. "But that's so not happening tonight." 

"Wanna bet?" 

"I'd hate to see you lose." 

"Then why are we here?" 

Sandra pulled a shiny new book out of her laptop bag: "Beginning Algebra." 

 

 

******

 

Lance didn't mind when Sandra stalked him. He didn't mind when she tied him up in the back of her van and forced him to eat her pussy. He didn't even mind when she almost broke his nose with a large dildo. To a point, all of those episodes were sexy in a perverse way. However, tutoring him in math constituted a unique form of torture. Lance would have left long ago had it not been for the fact he was failing the class. And if the star quarterback couldn't muster a D+, the coach would have to bench him for violating academic probation. 

Sandra scribbled out yet another equation on her notepad. Lance couldn't make heads or tails out of the numbers. Numbers were way harder than letters. At least, he could sort of read stuff like a "Stop" sign or a stroke story on Literotica. But algebra problems left him dizzy. Even worse, his inability to grasp the subject matter made him feel inadequate. Lance had become accustomed to winning in life. He scored touchdowns, won bodybuilding competitions, and slept with any female he desired. Obstacles were annoyances to be avoided, not overcome. 

Sandra noted his frustration with no small satisfaction. Everything had gone according to plan. Instead of teaching him remedial algebra, she intentionally tried to confuse her student by discussing advanced mathematical concepts like logarithms and partial derivatives. She spoke very quickly and did not allow him to ask any questions. 

Sandra watched him slump in his seat as her lecture droned on. His customary smirk evaporated long ago. Just like she hypothesized, the straight-A vixen could use his intellectual weakness as a cudgel to break him down. But humiliation was not her endgame. Sandra didn't hate Lance. The alpha queen just wanted to control him. So she loosened her metaphorical grip on his balls just a tad. 

"Let's try something different," Sandra told him. She wrote out a simple equation on her notepad: 

5.5 + x = y 

"This is what we call a function. It's the relationship between two variables, x and y. Do you understand?" 

"I'm confused, babe," he lamented "I thought math problems were supposed to involve numbers. 'X' and 'Y' are letters, aren't they?" 

"OK, let me simplify this," she answered patiently while writing out another equation: 

5.5 + x = 10.5 

"But there's still that one letter." 

"Yes, that's right. It's a letter. X is a variable. It's a substitute for a number." 

"You mean like a substitute teacher?" 

Sandra rolled her eyes. Was he really this fucking dumb? 

"OK, let's consider this equation in real world terms," she purred with a wicked smile. "Let's say that a girly man's penis measures a measly 5.5 inches. And, in contrast, a porn star's big stud cock measures 10.5 inches. What would be the difference in length?" 

"Five inches," Lance answered without a second thought. 

"Exactly," smiled Sandra as the flat of her heel gently stroked his crotch under the table. "In a given situation, you might even call this variable the 'x-factor' because it has the most significant impact on the outcome. You feel me?" 

"Yeah, the x-factor separates the men from the boys," beamed her pupil. 

Sandra nodded affirmatively while continuing to play footsy with him. Whether or not he would pass his algebra exam, Lance now seemed more at ease. The himbo clearly liked to talk about the size of his penis. 

Sandra grabbed the check. 

"I'll get this," she announced without giving him a chance to pay for dinner. "We're going to be late to the movie." 

The Uptown Theatre was only a two-minute stroll from the restaurant. Sandra briskly walked through the parking lot a few paces ahead of Lance. Her body language blinked in neon lights: "Look but don't touch." Lance admired her ass as she sashayed toward the old movie palace. Even from behind, he could see the generous swell of her breasts sway to and fro. He hoped he finally would fuck her tonight." 

"Two for Fellini's '8 ½'," she told the cashier at the box office. Lance had never been to this particular theatre. The Uptown wasn't a multiplex. It had only one screen inside a vast 500-seat auditorium. Sandra led him upstairs to the balcony. They were alone. 

The lights went down right after they found their seats. The screen lit up with the opening credits." 

"Babe," Lance noted with genuine astonishment. "What's wrong with this film? It's in black and white." 

Sandra didn't dignify his question with a response. She already had seen the film but chose it specifically to bore her date. Fellini would go completely over his head. And that guaranteed he would start making moves on her in a matter of moments. No sooner had the credits finished than she felt his arm sliding past the nape of her neck and draping itself over her far shoulder. 

Sandra secretly enjoyed his advances. His muscular arm felt just as heavy and powerful just like she had hoped. He was incredibly strong. Sandra had researched Lance online and found several blog posts about his winning streak in statewide bodybuilding contests. At the age of 15, he already beat 19 year-olds in the teenage division. Now at 18, Leo filed a request with the National Physique Committee to participate in the adult competition. Their decision was pending. 

Though the fetish embarrassed her, Sandra had a thing for bodybuilders. The obsession originated from the tomboy's fascination with comics. In her earliest sexual fantasies, she imagined herself as the female swashbuckler Red Sonja, the comic book lover of Conan the Barbarian. The girl fantasized the pair would go on dangerous adventures at the end of which the barbarian stud would make sweet love to her with his legendary manhammer. Sandra's predilection for meatheads made no sense but a woman could no better choose her taste in men than her sexual orientation. You just had to deal with it. 

With his arm still draped over her shoulder, Lance's fingers crept downward. He dipped his finger underneath the spaghetti strap of her backless dress and plucked it provocatively. Perceiving no objection, his fingers ventured along her Tail of Spence, the fleshy region of her chest that connected her underarm to her breast. Lance wasn't quite fondling her boob but he almost was. She admired the ladykiller's artistry. It was a subtle approach. This seemingly innocuous route led directly to more forbidden parts of her body. 

Sandra reached for his hand, grabbed the middle finger, and yanked it back as hard as she could. "OW!" yelped her date. Having seized him by the finger, she forcefully twisted his arm up and off her shoulder. 

"Are you nuts, lady?" he gasped. "That fucking hurts!" 

Lance got up and moved a couple seats away. He turned on the light of his cell phone to examine his aching digit. His expression had turned sour. The vixen wondered if she had gone too far this time. Had Sandra learned nothing from all of those anger management sessions? Unable to undo the damage, she switched on the charm. 

The jezebel took the seat next to him. "Here, let me see," she whispered to him. Lance reluctantly gave her his finger. "Poor baby," she cooed. "Let me make it better." She lifted his finger to her lips and lightly kissed it. Ever so gently, Sandra sucked the tip. Lance smiled. His entire body relaxed except for his big throbbing cock. She began to suck it more aggressively. Without exaggeration, Sandra was blowing his finger. A moan sounded deep within his broad chest. 

Lance had never dealt with a lady in Sandra's league. In his naughty world of easy pussy, even the biggest knockouts proved to be knockovers. Given his notoriety, any approach on the part of a woman carried an implicit invitation for sex. However, Lance knew better than to interpret her finger-sucking as an opportunity to escalate too quickly. He didn't want to get punched in the face. 

Sandra finally pulled his finger out of her mouth with an audible pop. She stroked his chin, gently turning his head to face her. Sandra's gaze smoldered. Her enigmatic smile hid the answer to a question that baffled him: Would he get laid tonight? The jezebel leaned into him for a kiss. 

Almost as soon as their lips made contact, Lance took charge. His hand palmed the back of her head and guided her forward. Her mouth opened just enough to let his tongue slip in and out. Lance's assertion of command seemed less a matter of intent than a manifestation of a dominant nature. He wasn't trying to show off or prove himself. The teenage rakehell didn't know any other way to behave. 

Sandra pulled away to break their kiss. 

"You're pretty good at that," she negged. "For a stoner jock." 

"I haven't heard any complaints." 

The wily temptress shifted gears yet again 

"I doubt you would," she whispered seductively into his ear. "After all, are you not Lance Leo, star quarterback and playboy extraordinaire? What girl would not yearn to sleep in your bed?" 

Lance could not restrain a smile. Having tickled his vanity, her fingertip traced the salami-shaped bulge that ran along his inner thigh. 

"I bet you nailed a lot of girls with that monster," she sighed with exaggerated awe. 

"Flattery will get you everywhere, babe." 

"Not in my pants it won't," she told him deadpan. "Watch the fucking movie, meathead. I like guys who like Fellini." 

Lance stared straight ahead of him. He had reached an apparent stalemate with Sandra. Not even this preposterous movie date appeared likely to gain him entry to her succulent pussy. The teen stud wondered if he could bail. At this time of night, he usually found himself balls deep inside a more appreciative companion. 

From within his front jeans pocket, Lance's cell phone vibed seductively against his dick. He already knew the import of the messages. Booty calls usually began around 9pm. Even though Morgan had cut him off from the cheerleading squad, she lacked the power to call a schoolwide sex strike. He still had a large female fanbase. 

Lance ever so carefully pulled out his smartphone to discretely scan his texts. It read like a pornographic Tumblr feed. Girls sent him a lot of nudes. However, his eye gravitated to a message from Morgan: "Hey, good luck with your date tonight. Honestly, I hope you find what you are looking for." 

Without any warning, Sandra grabbed his iPhone and shoved it inside her purse. 

"Haven't you ever been to a movie theatre?" she hissed reproachfully. "No texting." 

With his phone confiscated, the movie seemed to drag on forever. Sandra eventually put her