Zap Faps: Please Don't Fail Me For This
#3 of Zap Faps
Terry needs an A on his next math test, or he's toast. Maybe his hot teacher can do him a favor?
My dearest thanks to @@psydrosis and @@DukeFerret for proofreading!
Please Don't Fail Me For This
Needles up, pencils down. A subtle wooden clack on the table cracks the silence; a signal he's the last man standing. Question fifty-six: D, as in "Don't tell me this is twenty-five percent of my grade." Terry could feel his confidence shaken, but not enough to break him. Time was running short, and so was his patience, the stream of second guesses and second-second guesses reaching an unsatisfying end. It'd have to do, though, he thought with a sigh. Math truly is the worst school subject.
His bag knocked into the aisle as he stumbled over it, shuffled it back; that wave of dread flowed like a cumulus shadow as he realized this was it. He stared at his professor at the bottom of the auditorium, scribbling his red pen on a single test paper. The crudely carpeted red walkway reflected the current state of his GPA. Already, his grim options for the future ran through his head, cursing the lucky red, tan and pink sweater he wore...how foolish! Could've at least had a full night's sleep before bombing his chances at sophomore year in college.
As he approached the desk, the teacher tipped his hat back and craned his head up, his fingers dancing across the calculator a few more times without looking. Orange patches of fur covered his eyes while splotches of white and brown ran down like a fancy felt textbook cover. As he saw him, his voice bounced, perked eyebrows and sunshine dimples imbuing a flower petal swirl in Terry's heart.
"That goes on top with all the others," he said, his voice light and hushed, gesturing to the side where the stack lay. "Did you double check everything?"
"_Triple_checked," he replied.
"Great job!" he beamed. "Feeling confident?"
Terry gulped. "Well, we'll see."
"You're not the least bit nervous?" the teacher asked, wiggling the red pen in his fingers. "I'm really glad to hear that. 'Cause last time, you took off without this."
He leaned over and gave the pen back to Terry.
"Thanks," Terry stopped. "That's funny. I thought for sure I brought it with me."
"You left it right on my desk!" the teacher giggled. "Honestly, Terry, I thought you looked really distracted then. You okay?"
Terry gulped hard. The last thing he wanted to admit was the truth. That glimmer in his sky blue eyes was like the office meeting: so earnest, responsible, so completely the opposite of the gutter Terry's mind was in. Tight skinny jeans, square glasses, intelligent, a chess master at life, cooked a mean batch of cookies for the class last week; how could a man in his mid twenties line it all up so well? Everything lined up like planets to create not just the perfect professor, but also the perfect...
...Oh right. The test. Ripples of it crumpled from his clenched hand.
"Terry?" Mr. Blythe asked.
"Well, you see, Mr. Blythe," Terry said, "the reason why I can't study is..."
Deep breath....
"...I can't stop imagining you spanking my ass with that yardstick."
Mr. Blythe's head tilted, ears wobbling, those starlit eyes now filled with surprise. He scratched his cheek, a twitch of his eyebrows implied a hint of offense, but it faded without a trace quicker than either of them had expected. Terry saw the flicker; green light. When that mouth got running, there was nothing stopping it.
"And uh," he went on, "climbing onto the table, putting my ass in the air while you repeatedly sodomize me with it."
"Uh huh?" Mr. Blythe asked.
"And...and, you know how they say, 'bite down on a pillow, I'm going in dry'?"
"That's slightly offensive, but why?"
"Well I'd want to bite down on an apple, instead. Which is, uh...why I've been giving you apples ever since the year started."
Mr. Blythe tugged at his collar as the apple shined innocently on his desk.
"Well, to be fair," he said, "I've always thought you were pretty cute, too."
"Really?!" said Terry's inner school girl.
"Yes, yes, it's true," Mr. Blythe tipped his hat over his eyes, "it's a tempting offer, but if people start talking about it, the rest of the class might get jealous, and the last thing I need is to be teaching a second harem."
"But my GPA's failing," Terry whined, "and you're, like, the hottest person I've ever seen, and I..." His shoulder slumped. "If you let me have an A on this paper, I'll have sex with you. Deal?"
He shook his head. "I can't risk my career like that. Just pass in your test."
"But I can't do that, either!" Terry begged, crumpling the papers in his fist. "These aren't even answers, I just bubble sheeted the test into the shape of a dick!"
He waved the bubble sheet in front of his instructor until the chills of cringe could be felt from hallways away from their location. Though his breath out signaled something else, reading those lead dots as a constellation to action that ran fresh new blood through his veins for the fervor. As he sighed into the desk, he pushed his glasses up and rose to his feet.
"Then we both have no choice." The teacher patted the desk as his glimmer pierced his victim. "Put your ass up."
Terry blinked. "Really?"
"If I can make you cum without you touching yourself," he said, "then I'll give you the A. Otherwise, it's off. I know you're in great danger, so I'm only going to offer this to you once. After that, it's curtains. Want to go?"
No hesitation, his jeans hit the floor, tail flicking, pushing aside papers and objects as he scrambled onto the tabletop. The school bell was ringing hard in his system, but his fur was softer than his game, so he gave that ass a shake to let him know this shit's for real. The boxer-briefs didn't last much longer, either, as the professor ran his fingers down the outside of his yellow furred thighs, gazing into his tight hole. Thick, he kneaded his ass cheeks and then kicked the chair aside.
Already rock solid, he plunged his cock straight into the student, hushing breath out in the heat of his tight grip, deep enough to elicit a moan. Seven inches of pure pleasure penetrated him deep, hearts crossing through his eyes; it was everything he'd ever hoped for. Mr. Blythe put the red pen between his ear and skull, cracked his fingers, and grabbed his love handles, studying the notches in his back. Terry was in awe, slamming his eyes shut as he gripped the end of the table, cute whimpers from his jaw, begging for more, and by god, he'd get it, if it's the last thing he'd do.
The white-hot intensity only rose the longer they went at it, fingers sifting through his fur as his asshole rang with pleasure. Mr. Blythe really fucked him like he meant it, but still he kept his pace, the pressure points: the oblique, the right hip, just under, while that dick grinded thick like an eraser on a sharpie. Second by second, it was clear he was learning fast, and it only became more apparent as time went on. Hissing through his teeth, Terry whimpered as his ass hurt good, heating up, his hard cock threatening an incredible orgasm in mere seconds. And in no time at all, he felt his teacher's cock reach that heavenly bullseye; a hiss of satisfaction from his lips before he filled up Terry's body with the pleasure of his life.
Tensing up in all the right ways, he could hardly keep up, limbs jittering, knocking pencil cases and erasers off the table until nothing left was there to disrupt his balance. Twice, still, his shins slipped, but he recovered quickly, smiling back at him to cover it up. A hip shake and a thrust backwards told him how badly he wanted more of that dick, threatening him like he wasn't doing enough. But just as he thought this was it, Mr. Blythe slowed down and gripped his hips tight, fingers pressed deep in a calculated format, the breath of his sub like honey to his sugar.
"Your body is so easy to problem solve," he cackled. "You want this A, don't you?"
"Yes! Oh god, yes! Please!"
He moaned out his plea as he gave him a lustful side eye, pushing his hips further against the big dick, timing it with the thrusts until he was balls deep for a moment, then out just as quickly. But even he knew that the answer wasn't satisfying.
"You'll remember to bring your own pencils, right?"
"Yes! I'll remember them!"
"And you won't talk back when I tell you to study harder?"
"Never again!"
"And you won't complain about how calculus has no intrinsic value in society?"
"I won't ever again!"
Mr. Blythe grunted, and just for a moment, he began to slowly pull out, millimeter by millimeter, until the tip was just poking the outside of his-
"I need this A, Mr. Blythe!" Terry breathed, high pitched. "Please don't stop!"
Mr. Blythe giggled like a king beneath his throat.
"Then why don't you take that sweater off?" he announced, slapping the fabric.
Terry wriggled like a snake; the second he slipped it off, mayhem: his professor bucked harder, faster, the ripples of Terry's ass reverberating through the room, their yowls of pure, primal sex like recess in the after-hours. And every time he bucked forward, his body heated up, another cogent thought slipping, another blood pump to the dick, another second closer to that blissful moment of total pleasure....
"I-I'm cumming!" Terry yelled, and the thick stream splashed onto the desk, nearly ruining the finish as it shot to the other side of the table and dripped off the edge. Seconds later, his teacher yanked the sub's supple hips into his pelvis, clenching his teeth while he unleashed his passion within him. And he stayed like that for several seconds, mini-thrusting further into him as his glasses went crooked and his face flushed to a furnace. Finally, he pulled out, and Terry could feel the cum leaking out, undoubtedly hitting the surface just like everything else. With that, all his muscles relaxed, his arms hanging off the table while he fought to catch his breath.
"I gather it was good for you as it was for me," his professor said after he caught his breath, then kissed him on the cheek. "But don't think we shouldn't still discuss your studying habits. See me after class!"
Terry's face lit up as his weak knees climbed off the table, regaining his sweater, indifferent to the white-out-like stains of his own cum streaking across it. Though he put them on anyways and made his way back up to his desk, smiling, knowing it was all incredibly worth it.
And with that, Mr. Blythe pulled up his pants, clapped his hands together, pursed his lips, and put a stern expression back on to address the auditorium.
"Okay, class, please turn your textbooks to page four hundred eighty-two," he said, paper shuffling filling the room.