Fair trade
#8 of It's been a quiet week in Cannon Shoals...
Mountain lion in a community of dogs, Adam puts his interspecies skills to the test when the mother of one of his students calls an ad hoc parent teacher conference...
Mountain lion in a community of dogs, Adam puts his interspecies skills to the test when the mother of one of his students calls an ad hoc parent teacher conference...
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"Fair trade", by Rob Baird
His students never left the room clean. He asked, and cajoled, and sometimes ordered -- but it never seemed to stick, at least not as well as the gum did. So it was that, well after class had ended, Adam Wintz was scrubbing them down. Vacuuming the floor, too.
Trying to present a good image.
It wasn't that he didn't like dogs, exactly, but the district had a reputation for being very canine oriented. They were cliquish -- though they thought of it as being 'pack animals' -- and the mountain lion was definitely the odd man out. So he had a reputation to uphold, and that meant cleaning. Fastidiousness.
There was no gap between the knock at the door and the door opening -- so if he'd been indisposed, having a private moment, the intruder would've caught him quite off guard. Fortunately, it was just him and the vacuum. He switched it off: "Hello?"
"Adam Wintz?"
He went through his mental dog checklist. Wolves had curvy ears, and she had pointy ears, so she wasn't a wolf. Too thick-furred to be a husky. Besides, she was pure white. Driven-snow white, save for his lack of familiarity with the driven snow. "Adam Wintz some; loses some." The cougar extended his paw.
"Julie Nichols," she returned the introduction, and the handshake -- but very briefly. When she leaned towards him, the cat's sharp eyes flicked from her face, to an intricate gold chain tucked into the silk of a floral-print dress.
The colors and cut had a way of catching the eye -- against the cloud-white of her fur, it had the effect of suggesting she was less searching for spring than trying to seduce it. It was far too nice for Cannon Shoals, a little fishing town where haute couture meant cambric dress from the thrift store on Fourth. "Can I help you?"
"My son Hunter is in your class, I believe?"
Hunter looked a lot more like a samoyed than his mother, all thick and fuzzy-furred, but that appeared to explain the both of them well enough. "Hunter Nichols-Creech, right?"
"That's right. I'd like to talk to you about my son's... performance."
He knew that he shouldn't complain. It was rare that anyone in the town bothered to show any concern at all about how their children did in school. Nobody from Cannon Shoals would leave it -- not to Eugene, let alone to Harvard or Berkeley or Johns Hopkins.
The townsfolk were cliquish, too, in their own way, and this was a clique that Adam belonged to. His family was fourth generation; his older brother had taken over the family business. Not that there were really enough fishing boats to justify keeping the machine shop open -- that's why Adam had followed in his mother's footsteps.
Julie Nichols and her husband, Marko Creech, were newcomers and outsiders and destined to remain that way. They owned one of the nicest houses in town -- nice enough that people talked about it, to their neighbors and their friends at the dive bar.
Hunter seemed like an alright kid, really. He had friends; he didn't get picked on. "What about it? I recall that he's doing fairly well. Solid grades."
"Bs, yes," Julie countered sharply. "A mix of As and Bs. I'm more concerned about the science fair last weekend."
Adam sighed. He had encountered this once or twice already, always from the new families. Knowledge workers, with nice fat paychecks and jobs that let them telecommute and connections to all the newest trends in parenting.
Obsessive, insistent, and entitled.
Shaking his head, he strolled back to the door and made certain that it was shut before taking a seat on the old wooden table that served him for a desk. "What about it?" he asked, although he knew the answer.
Julie remained standing. "He didn't win it."
"No." That was true, and there would be no way of placating the samoyed. But he tried anyway: "He came second."
"Behind Ruben Larson. Ruben grew some tomato plants, Mr. Wintz -- I saw his exhibit. You saw his exhibit."
"He kept very careful records of what he was doing."
"On hand-drawn graphs, yes." Julie put her paws at her hips. It was a rather severe gesture, although the fur of her arms was a pleasant soft white that was too plush to give much weight to it. "Let's be honest, Mr. Wintz."
He watched her arms a second or two longer. "Alright..."
"That was a terrible experiment. How many times has it been done? How many unoriginal people have dumped random things into a pot like that? 'Hypothesis: tomato plants watered with Coca-Cola will not grow as well. Conclusion: yep.' Why are you still rewarding that?"
"I wasn't really expecting groundbreaking science, Ms. Nichols," he felt compelled to point out. "It was something that Ruben could do with the materials he had on hand -- graphs included."
"But he could've done better. Like Hunter did. So what are you running here, Mr. Wintz -- a science class, or 4H?"
Deep breaths. "I felt that it was important to reward individual effort. Did your son actually design that experiment?"
Hunter's science fair project had explored the likelihood of bridges to collapse under strain. To accomplish this, he had shown four different models -- made of some sort of custom-built plastic, so near as Adam could tell. And then he had measured their 'deformation,' with highly precise calipers.
"It was his idea," Julie said.
"The models?"
"Dr. Creech helped with them a little." Her admission was tightly limited, because she immediately followed up: "That was part of the fair guidelines. On the third line." The samoyed withdrew the assignment from her purse, where she had folded it neatly. "'Parents may provide assistance, but should not define or change the content of the presentation' -- did you write that?"
"Yes."
"Well, so, my husband assisted him with the 3D printer. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not as such, but --"
"Then you agree that he should've won." Julie refolded the paper crisply, and shoved it back into her purse. "So why didn't he? What do I need to do to get through to you?"
"I really think that you may be stressing too much over this."
Her eyes blazed: "It's completely unacceptable!"
As outrages went, Adam really had to imagine there were others more pressing. Wasn't there something in the Middle East she could be worried about? Maybe the drought in California? Congress? "Is this really... important?"
"Of course it's important! It matters! Everything matters! It's his future!"
"I can understand that you're a little disappointed for your son..."
"I am not disappointed, Mr. Adam Wintz," she insisted. The 'mister' had a cutting emphasis on it. "I am offended. This isn't a joke -- how else is he going to get into a good school?"
Again, Adam felt conflicted. He didn't like being yelled at, least of all by an overbearing helicopter parent. At the same time, it didn't seem right to be upset that somebody actually cared about their kid's schoolwork for once. "I think you may be overstating your case..."
It was the most diplomatic way he could think of to put it, and the samoyed clearly didn't buy it. "I am not! You cheated my son out of that!"
"First place was a Snickers bar."
"And a certificate."
The cougar sighed, keeping as much of it to himself as possible. "Do you want me to print another one?" It wouldn't be hard -- he just had to hope the inkjet in the teacher's lounge still had ink.
"I think that's the least you can do to fix this."
Oh, good lord. And if he didn't give in, she was probably going to complain to the principal, and god only knew who else. "I don't know..."
Julie huffed, and her paws went back to her hips. "Let me tell you something: I did not raise my son to be second-place. Now, this is important, Mr. Wintz. I'll do anything you want. What will it be? Do you want money? Is that it?"
That had escalated quickly. "Wait --"
"Something else? Do you want me to put a word in with the governor at the next fundraiser? Would you like a transfer to Corvallis? Portland?"
"I'm fine here, really. I --"
"Well," she told him, "I'm not. I'm busy, and I have an appointment to get to. Be reasonable, Adam." Why was she using his first name? "Anything. Come on. A hundred dollars? Two?"
He blinked. It was either a hell of an appointment, or she was so used to getting her way that she'd never had to spend much time thinking about how much it cost. "Look, okay..."
Julie stepped forward, pinning Adam between her and the desk. The sled dog's teeth were... very sharp. "What? Not money, then?" Her voice had turned into a low, insistent growl. And before he could answer properly, he felt her paw on his thigh.
It was a very warm paw. It was also very... purposeful. The samoyed pushed his legs apart, sliding her paw up along the inside. She leaned closer, and her perfume filled the cougar's nose -- not quickly enough to distract him from the sudden pressure cupping his crotch. "Uh..."
"Oh, of course," Julie smirked. She squeezed, and a shock of pleasure radiated up through the cougar's lower body. "That's what you were after..."
Not really! It wasn't really what he was after! But there was volition, and then there was biology, and his vision was filled with rather fetching samoyed and... and then she squeezed again, and her thumb ran over the bulge outlined in his slacks. Volition told him to protest. Biology turned the protest into a purr as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.
Julie stroked him again, and again, her glare slowly turning to a grin as she gained the upper hand. Immaculate, manicured, self-assuredly upper-class claws closed on his zipper and gave it a tug. Her snowy paw slid inside, and she worked her way under the problematically tight cotton of his briefs.
His objections faltered, and the cougar's eyes half-lidded. Her fingerpads had been manicured, too; they were supple, and flawlessly soft, teasing her victim mercilessly. Her eyes were locked on his. Through his rapidly dwindling focus he saw a glint in them -- and, a moment later, felt the pressure of his belt releasing.
The briefs, too. Adam's cock sprung free, already hard and throbbing. She pushed a finger that had divested him of his belt to the cougar's open lips, warningly, and then began to stroke him. Softly. A long, dedicated history of expensive fur care paid off in the hot, downy velvet that worked him to full attention.
He gasped and throbbed. Julie's eyes sparked again, and her thumb put a circling, kneading pressure at the pointed tip of his cock, slicking it down with his precum until both finger and bare flesh were wet and slippery. And then --
She stopped.
Adam mumbled... something: he didn't know what he'd said, she didn't know what he'd said, and she apparently didn't care because all she did was smile. A wide smile. It showed her teeth, but it also showed a soft, broad, very long tongue. She licked her lips. "About that certificate?"
One last time for that good image. His attempt was halfhearted: "You care a lot about this..."
"It's the principle of the thing," she smiled innocently, and squeezed him again. This time she caught the spurt of pre in her palm. She raised her paw to her muzzle, and her tongue flattened to it, dragging with teasing slowness. "Certificate?" she asked again, softly.
"But your husband..."
Her cool, wet nose pushed to his and the fire in his eyes was hard to ignore. Julie's paw returned to work. Her claw slid up the underside of the cougar's length, and drew a spiraling circle over the hypersensitive tip. "Won't know. Doesn't matter. Certificate?"
"Fine!"
Julie smirked again, and pushed herself back from him. Adam glanced over to the door, and was thankful that nobody else was in the habit of staying late. The samoyed was already between his knees. She swept her hair back, and out of the way, and pushed her muzzle hungrily into his crotch, lapping sweetly from the fuzzy sheath to slick, crimson flesh.
He groaned. Her tongue was every bit as good as it had looked. Hot, like the steamy breath she washed him with in her slow, careful licks. She felt him throbbing against her muzzle and nuzzled up his cock in time to meet the salty tang of his precum on her nose. Licking it clean, she parted her lips, wrapping them just barely around him.
Sucking excitedly on him, she curled her paw over his rigid prick and pumped slowly until he rewarded her with a grunt and another, harder spurt. Julie wagged her tail at the taste and, satisfied, she pushed her muzzle down further, into the slimy, suckling warmth that engulfed him, sending throbbing jerks of pleasure up his spine...
For a moment, she stopped. Her tongue curled and slipped in a sinuous circle that bathed him in exquisite heat. Adam's claws were out, gripping the edge of the desk as best he could. It was a hell of a sight -- the shapely, pristine-furred samoyed, fashionable dress clinging to her every curve... on her knees with her head between his legs and her hungry muzzle stuffed full of cougar meat...
She started to bob her head, restraining herself only for the first two or three strokes. A few seconds later and her rhythm was quick, deliberate -- completely heedless, slurping his prick lewdly into her craving muzzle. Adam's bubbly purring shuddered through the whole of his sinewy body. His tail curled and lashed -- fluffing out like a bottlebrush, snaking up and under the samoyed's shoulder...
And fucking hell there was no way he could take much more of it. She was devouring his cock with such obvious desire -- he could feel his own need rising, burning hot in his blurring vision. For -- for a certificate -- Christ, it was awfully ridiculous but -- well. "Julie." It had started out as a simple question and reached his addled speech centers as a commanding, harshly panted growl.
"Hmm?" she mumbled around his cock. After a moment, in case he hadn't heard, she dragged her muzzle up. He throbbed and pulsed against her lips, but she was too busy looking up at him with curious eyes, like she didn't even notice the glistening cougar prick twitching next to her muzzle. A little strand of thick saliva still clung, until she gave her muzzle a mischievous lick. "Adam?"
"You want a gold star to go with that certificate?" The samoyed tilted her head. "On the desk."
The good thing about dogs was that, cliquish or no, as pack animals they knew how to follow an order. Julie got up, eyeing the teacher coyly as he slid from the desk to get back on his own feet. The nudge of his paw at her hips was more than enough pressure to get her to turn around.
And she leaned forward without having to be told. Adam's purring had a keenly, darkly predatory tone to its bass notes -- it was a good look for her. The dress clinging to the samoyed's round butt gave her full curves a sleek smoothness that might almost have been formal were she not bent over a teacher's desk with her curled tail wagging. And the eager look she gave him over her shoulder.
He pushed the silk dress up, draping it on her hips. More white fur -- nice, plush handfuls of it, thick under his claws. Her panties were white, too: nothing was there to add any color to her snowy pelt between the lacy cotton and the slick black leather of the boots that came up to her knees...
Still, if he were grading it would've been a solid A.
The cougar slipped between her spread legs and hooked a razor-clawed finger into her panties, tugging them roughly aside. Now the white was broken by the wet, soft-pink petals of her sex. She wriggled her hips teasingly as the cool air of the classroom hit her. Her tail hiked up like a plaintive demand. A+, in that case?
Easily. The cougar guided his cock to her, and pushed forward slowly. His slit-pupiled eyes flashed, and narrowed, and drank in every damned second of it, watching his thick, studded feline shaft disappearing into the squirming, needy samoyed. Hilted -- finally -- he gave a jerking thrust that ground his slim hips into her gorgeous ass.
She clung to him as he tugged back, the nubs of his cock dragging over her folds, adding little points of sharp, flaring pleasure that had her dropping her muzzle to the dark wood of the desk, her panting wreaking havoc on his pencils and paperclips. Adam bucked smoothly into her, attention lingering on her snug heat and the slurred, grateful moan that greeted him.
Just a moan, though. Was that enough? He bent forward, and with a deep, pointed revolution of his hips to call attention to every hot inch of cougar dick buried inside her he decided the last of his good image wasn't worth keeping around. "Begging is extra credit."
"How much?"
"Try me," he purred, adding another thrust.
Nice and pure, that clean white fur. Very proper. "Fuck me," Julie whispered into the desk, which was about as much of an attempt as he'd expected. Good for a slow, firm thrust, with his claws dragging over her hips to pull her into him.
And no more. "You can do better." Another two slow, teasing thrusts put a keen edge on the offer -- the samoyed was trembling, bucking back to meet him and quicken his dragging pace.
"Fuck me," she repeated. More heat -- and an enthusiastic little gasp, too. "Like a dog. Make me howl your name like a dog, Adam. Give it to me hard!"
Shoving her hips down against the desk, to keep her round, fuzzy ass in place Adam pulled back, and took her in a plunging, sharp thrust. She arched up -- had to grab on to the far edge for balance. "And?" he growled.
"More," the samoyed whimpered. "Ram that big dick into me!" The cougar obliged, tugging back sharply and then slamming back into her, forcing the breath from the samoyed lady -- bitch -- in a strained groan. "Ohfuckyesgood," she invented her own brand new vocabulary word.
Better, anyhow. Adam started thrusting faster, riding her plush rump in quick, pounding thrusts. The sharp clash every time they met jarred the desk; her dangling necklace and her heavy breasts jerked in a complimentary rhythm as he rutted into her.
Papers went flying. Folders were bent. His precum spurted in hot pulses against the clasping walls of her quivering pussy and between that and her dripping arousal their ragged thrusts splashed the evidence of their feral coupling all over his desk. Too late to care about that, really. His big, tawny paws grabbed possessively for her snowy haunches, and squeezed.
Hard. "Ohgodyes," Julie yelped for him. "Fuck me! Use me like a ten-dollar whore!" Rather, a certificate and a gold star -- but at least he'd managed to rail the propriety out of the haughty samoyed. It was hard to have too much propriety when you were being taken from behind on a teacher's desk.
At least it was enough for the extra credit, not that he had enough focus to care. The mountain lion was driving himself into her with rough abandon, cramming her sloppy cunt so absolutely full of cougar cock he could feel every bark and hoarse panting gasp.
"Please!" That time she couldn't have begged harder with a handwritten sign and puppy-dog eyes. "I'm so close!" One more thrust -- and two -- and she kept her promise at least, wailing Adam's name into his desk. Rocking up and down, thrashing between her feline lover and the unyielding wood.
His own thrusts were shaky and erratic. Getting to be too much, all of it: that canine howling, and their juices squelching wetly into his fur and spattering the desk, and her hot cunt fluttering, spasming on his cock -- massaging waves of tense pleasure into it that rolled down into the pit of his stomach...
There it was. His vision blurred and he managed one final, lunging thrust. The first throbbing jet of his white-hot feline seed raced up his aching length and exploded into the samoyed as they both groaned. Like she could feel it, and if she couldn't feel that she could sure as fuck feel his barbs flaring, raking her -- claiming the samoyed for his own --
"Yes!" she yipped it like a dog, bucking to get him deeper as he flooded her with his sticky essence, soaking her womb with it. Nice and eager. "Cum in me! Fill me up, professor!"
Profess -- what? Not her first time on a desk, then? Maybe that explained some things about the eagerness. But he couldn't care less -- too distracted pumping the hot, jetting ropes of his musky load up into the woman, until it was starting to drool back around his clenching cock with his uneven, slowing thrusts.
Out of breath, his legs aching and his mind abuzz, Adam finally stopped. The samoyed's fur was a sight -- mussed by his fevered groping and matted and slick. The frantic final moments of their coupling had bunched her dress up, but not far enough to miss the drops of pearly cougar semen dripping slowly from her well-used pussy.
Julie sagged, flattening her heavy chest against the desk and spreading her legs wider. She twisted to look back at him with a satisfied grin. "Good enough?"
"Good enough," the cougar grunted. "Gold... gold star and all." Unsteadily, he pulled his prick from her, with a slurp and a generous gush that hinted to the mess they'd made of her insides.
"I have to leave soon," she reminded him.
"Oh. Right. How soon?"
The samoyed rolled onto her back and then, seeming to decide she was sullied enough, slid back onto her knees before him. "A minute or two." Making the most of it, her silky tongue bathed him. Her lips parted, warm breath fluttered over him, and then he was sinking back into her muzzle.
"You think... maybe..." he muttered to the dog.
"Mm?" He glanced down to find his cock completely engulfed in her warm maw. Julie suckled on his softening length, cleaning it with deliberate strokes that made it hard for him to say what he'd meant to say... although...
"You think maybe this is a little... much? For a second-grade science fair?"
He slipped from her muzzle with a little pop, and she busied herself with lapping his sheath, and the matted fur of his sack. "No," she declared primly. "It's worth whatever it takes. Can I pick it up tomorrow?"
Too late to turn back, really. "Sure, I guess..."
"Good," Julie said, and when she stood she helpfully tugged his slacks up with her. He rebuttoned them and fastened her belt as she gathered her belongings and -- mission evidently accomplished -- strode back through the door.
What the hell had just happened? Very strange. Such a bizarre way to spice up his afternoon, with such a bizarre cause. Half his papers were ruined; the can of pencils had overturned and scattered them hither and yon. The classroom reeked of their scent, and his desk was completely stained with samoyed and cougar.
Hmm.
And he'd tried so hard to keep things clean.