A Charming Introduction
Graham's paw beat furiously at his swollen meat, images of the girl of his dreams flashing before his squinched eyes. The feline was gorgeous in her cheerleader outfit, the buttons undone to reveal graceful cleavage, skirt hiked up to show off her delicate heiney. She danced and twirled, making kissey faces at him, undulating seductively, occasionally lifting the front of her skirt to give him a glimpse of her pink, virgin slit.
Of course, the real Eve would never dance for him, never show off her lithe body for his benefit. In fact, when he had finally screwed up enough courage, after weeks and weeks of wanting her, to ask her out, the catgirl had laughed in his face, like it was some great joke. She had laughed and told him she'd rather "puke my guts out" and called him names, until he had run from her, ears burning. But that hadn't been enough. She'd told everyone she knew about his failed attempt, and pretty soon the whole school, or at least the popular part, was laughing at him. Except for the jocks, of course. They were too busy pushing him down, shoving him into trashcans, and knocking his books out of his hands.
Graham's ears flattened against his head as he neared orgasm, hunched over, teeth gritted. The catgirl in his imagination was naked now, on her back, arms outstretched, beckoning him close. Her arms closed around his shoulders, her long, muscular legs wrapped around his waist, and her full, pouting lips pressed against his in a joyful celebration of love. As their lips touched, he reached a shuddering climax, spraying thick globs of cum across his sheets.
But the real Eve would never beckon him closer, never press her lips to his in an ecstasy of sensation. Instead, she spread nasty rumors about him, telling everyone that he was poor, that he was gay, that he had an STD, that he was this and that and everything else. Since he had taken that giant leap of bravery, it seemed like everyone was laughing at him, that is, when they weren't shoving his face into the toilet. His life was even more of a living hell than it had been before. As he gathered tissue to clean up the mess, Graham Talesor began to cry.
"Fuck, I'm gonna be late again!"
Grabbing the piece of toast from the toaster, Sandra Lucas shoved it into her mouth as she tried desperately to get her jacket on without knocking anything else off the table. Shoving her paw through the arm of her jacket, she snatched up a glass of orange juice and slammed it down. Still grumbling, she grabbed her purse off the couch and darted out into the hall, almost forgetting to lock the door to her apartment as she hurried away.
"Why do I always do this? Why do I always oversleep?" Demanding answers from no one in particular, the squirrel rushed down the hall, rummaging through her purse to find her bus pass. The reason she overslept was obvious, even to her: she never went to bed on time, preferring to stay up until the middle of the night watching stupid old movies on basic cable, or pawing off to late-night soft core porn. She'd been doing that last one a lot lately, she mused.
She couldn't help it. At thirty-four, Sandra's sex drive was as healthy as it had ever been, if not more so. It's just that her social life had slowed down, imperceptively at first, until it had finally died in a shuddering crash. She hadn't been on a date in months, hadn't gotten laid in longer than that.
It wasn't because she didn't try; she certainly kept an eye out for opportunities. It wasn't because she was no longer attractive, either. Okay, so maybe she had put on a few pounds, but she still had a trim figure. And yeah, maybe her breasts weren't as perky as they used to be, and maybe her ass had expanded a tad, but hey, she was hot for her age. She just didn't have time to go to the gym every day. Or ever, really.
She just didn't have time to date, that's all. Or go to the gym. Or learn Spanish like she said she was going to. Or write her mother and tell her that things were going well, and not to worry, and she'd see everybody at Christmas. Frankly, she didn't have much time for anything. As she settled into her seat, she blew a lock of purple hair out of her eyes. Time. That's what she was missing. It was this damn job. Being a teacher put tremendous demands on one's time. Preparing her lectures, assigning homework, grading tests...
"Fuck!" Sitting up straight, Sandra remembered that she was supposed to bring the class's tests with her today. With a groan, she saw them in her mind, sitting in a pile on the edge of the coffee table, not a foot away from where her purse had sat. It was going to be one of those days.
Graham was having a shitty day. Those of us who remember the trials and travails of high school likely never had to put up with the things Graham put up with. It started as soon as he got to school. The snickers behind his back, the laughter in his face, the slaps upside the head and the punches in the shoulder. Walking down the hall on his way towards class, he was verbal assaulted the entire time. Sitting at his desk, cruel, obscene notes found their way onto his desk, reminding him just how much everybody hated him. He was so glad he wouldn't have to put up with this stuff next year.
Feeling miserable, Graham dropped his head onto his desk, wishing he could curl up in a ball and disappear. His teacher was late (again), and as he waited for class to start, he could feel everyone's stares on the back of his skull, hear the half-concealed chortles sent rolling his direction. "Just a few more months," he told himself. "Then high school will be over, and I'll never have to see these people again."
Ms. Lucas bustled in, late as usual, looking flustered. Graham had always kind of liked her. She wasn't really cut out to be a teacher, but she tried her best. She was just always so disorganized, like she hadn't thought ahead far enough to actually prepare for class. Honestly, she probably hadn't. Most of the time, she forgot her lecture notes and spent the hour reading a magazine while the smart kids made a circle and discussed last night's reading, and the dumb kids just talked.
Graham didn't notice her today. He tried not to notice anyone. His mind kept going back to the night before, pawing off to the image of Eve, disgusted with himself for still being so enamored with someone who had treated him so badly. How was he supposed to deal with these things? He couldn't help himself, couldn't make himself forget the feline. Even now, ears burning with shame, the butt of numerous jokes, he couldn't get her picture out of his mind.
The bell rang. Ms. Lucas looked up, startled. She had spent the entire hour stammering through a lecture on a topic they weren't even studying, until she had given up and pulled out her magazine, throwing her feet onto her desk, crossed at the ankles. Now she looked up at the class, and as they shambled out of the room, she reminded them to read Chapter 3 (or maybe Chapter 4), and promised that she'd have their tests tomorrow.
Out in the hallway, away from Ms. Lucas' ears, the kids renewed their taunting. That was another thing he liked about Ms. Lucas. Most of the time, she paid no attention to what was going on in her classroom, but she always did put a stop to any conversation that turned ugly. She swore, she complained about the other teachers, and she chatted amiably about topics that were completely unsuitable for school, but she never stood for name-calling among her students. Her classroom was safe. Out in the hall was another story entirely.
Graham just couldn't take any more. He suddenly veered right and charged down a different hall, head down, eyes glaring at the floor. He knew where he could go. A new gym had just been completed, and now the old one was off-limits while the school board decided what to do with it. It was something of a haven. Nobody ever went there, student or faculty, so Graham could be alone. Ducking under the yellow construction tape, he entered the gloomy old building, his footfalls sounding softly among the empty bleachers. Turning a corner, Graham sat down and cried.
Sandra was having a shitty day. Those of us who remember high school as being a never-ending fight to stay awake likely never had to fight as hard as she did. She couldn't help it, school was just boring. Who cared about history? It had already happened, what did it matter any more?
It didn't help that she had forgotten to write down lecture notes for today. Expertly searching her brain for memories of the lesson, she proceeded to lecture the class for about half an hour until she realized she wasn't even talking about whatever it was that the class was supposed to be studying. With a shrug, she had plopped down in her chair and took out her old copy of US. The smart kids learned better when she wasn't talking anyway, and the dumb kids didn't learn either way, so what did it matter?
When the bell rang, she'd been caught completely off guard. She reminded the kids to read one of the chapters in the book, she couldn't remember which one, and promised she would bring their tests tomorrow. If she wasn't running late again. Which she almost certainly would be.
"Whatever," she thought. "I need a smoke." Smoking was, of course, prohibited on school grounds, so Sandra had been forced to find a place she could go smoke without being caught. A new gym had just been completed, and now the old one was off-limits while the school board decided what to do with it. It was something of a haven. Nobody ever went there, student or faculty, so Sandra could be alone.
Ducking under the yellow construction tape, she entered the gloomy old building, her footfalls sounding softly among the empty bleachers. Leaning against the wall, she sighed happily as she lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, the tart smoke calming her nerves. Goddamn kids. Why do they care what they got on their tests, anyway? The smart kids always passed and the dumb kids always failed. Why would this time be any different?
She was in the middle of the thought when she heard a noise, a quiet, subdued noise, like a tiny whimper. Her first instinct was to ignore it, like she ignored pretty much anything that didn't deal affect her directly. With a snort, she took a drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly, savoring the hot, spicy aroma.
There it was again, that little, half-heard sound, like a tiny whine or squeak. This time, Sandra could tell it was coming from very close by, and it occurred to her that someone else might be in the gym with her.
"Probably a couple of kids ditching class to fuck," she sighed. There was a time SHE ditched class to fuck around with boys, but that was a long time ago. Part of her dreaded finding out that she was right, coming face to face with a reminder of her age and loser social life. Another part, which won after a brief struggle, was excited to see what was going on. This would be way hotter than cable porn!
Sandra walked along the bleachers and turned the corner, peeking her head around gingerly, careful to remain concealed. She was immediately disappointed. There were no naked co-eds writhing in ecstasy with one another, or even someone pawing off by him- or herself, just a little grey wolf curled up with his back against the bleachers.
"Damn. Just my luck," she grumbled. Taking another puff of the cigarette, she stood watching the wolf quizzically, something poking at the back of her mind, something that wouldn't let go. It took a few minutes, during which the male didn't look up, or even move, but she finally realized what was bugging her: she had seen that green hoodie earlier.
Of course! It was that quiet kid in her senior history class! The one who sat in the back and kept his head down, the one everyone else picked on. Sandra always felt sorry for him. He seemed like a nice kid, he was just a wimp, and high school kids ate wimps for breakfast. It didn't help that he was a real runt, as small as any freshman, in a class full of massively-built morsels of masculinity. He sure was a cutie, though...
A wicked grin coming over her face, the squirrel dropped her cigarette on the floor and moved fully around the corner, arms folded, looking down her nose with an air of authority.
"Cutting class, are we?"
The wolf pup jumped, so caught up in his own world he'd had no idea the other furre had been standing there for several minutes. He started to stammer out an apology, but Sandra cut him off.
"I don't wanna hear your stupid excuses, you got that? What's your name?"
"Graham Talesor, ma'am." His voice sounded sick.
"Come here, Graham, and explain to me why you're here instead of in class where you belong." Sandra hoped that he couldn't smell the cigarette smoke on her breath. That would be just what she needed.
As the small wolf stepped forward, he moved into a patch of light coming through the window, and Sandra could see his face was damp from crying. As he looked miserably up at her, his eyes shimmered, like he was trying to fight back tears even now.
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to, I ju-"
"Just what?" She cut him off sharply.
"I just couldn't handle it any more!" Now he burst into tears, throwing his paws to his eyes, his little body wracked with choking sobs. "Everybody's so mean to me, and the boys beat me up, and the girls make fun of me, and I just can't face them any more!" Now Sandra remembered she'd overheard some of the rumors about this kid. He'd asked out one of the popular girls in her class, and now the whole school was hassling him for it. Sandra couldn't help feeling sorry for him, and as she looked at him, an idea came to mind that might fix both their problems...
"Of course the girls make fun of you," she sniffed. "You never stand up for yourself. You act like a little kid. High school girls don't like boys who act like kids."
The wolf sniffed loudly and looked up at her, eyes shining. "They don't?"
"Of course not," she stated matter-of-factly. "High school girls like boys who act like men."
"Oh." The pup's voice was full of dejection, his shoulders slumped.
"But you're in luck, kiddo. High school girls might not like it, but there are some grown-up women who actually prefer small fries like you." As she spoke, Sandra took a step forward and knelt down in front of him, one paw on his shoulder, looking him full in the face.
"R-really?" The wolf didn't seem to understand what she was saying. Sandra laughed on the inside. What an adorable little thing he was!
"Really." Her voice had dropped to a near-whisper, and her eyes narrowed. Flashing her most seductive smile, Sandra reached her paw between his legs and caressed the wolf's package beneath his jeans.
"M-miss Lucas," he stuttered, paralyzed with confusion. A visible shiver ran up through his body, and Sandra knew she had complete control.
"Shhh, shh. Call me Sandra." She leaned in, gingerly pressing her lips against his. He stood stock still, except for a slight quivering. As she broke the kiss, Sandra lowered her other paw to his waist and began unbuttoning his jeans.
The cub stood ramrod straight, eyes locked on hers, obviously knowing what was coming but unable to mentally process it. No matter, he didn't need to be moving around right now anyway.
Sandra reached inside his open fly and tenderly pulled out his cock, which, just from touching it through his pants, had become hard and straight. She couldn't suppress an instinctive shudder as his member emerged from the darkness. It had been so long since she'd held one of these, and the sensation of his hot little rod in the palm of her paw was such a turn on. It wasn't huge, certainly, but it was a little bigger than she had expected, maybe six inches long, and hot to the touch.
"Mmmm, you're really hard, Graham," she cooed, her right paw wrapped around his shaft. "You must really be turned on." She began stroking him as she spoke, his penis pointed almost straight upwards, furry paw cuddling it as it traveled the length. "Does that feel good, honey?"
"Oh, Mi-I mean, Sandra. It feels so good, please don't stop." He was finally moving, his eyes closed, head tilted upwards, mouth hanging open a few inches. She could hear raspy breaths whistling through his nostrils.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna stop," she reassured him. "In fact, I'm going to make it feel even better."
"How?" He looked at her, curiosity overcoming pleasure for the moment.
Rather than explain, she decided to show him. With a wide grin, Sandra slid her other leg downward, so she was now on both knees, rather than a knee and a foot. Licking her lips, she lowered her head until she took the first few inches of his cock into her mouth, and closed her lips around it.
Instantly, she could feel her crotch flooding with desire, and she moaned into his groin as she slid more and more of his shaft into her mouth. It had been so long, so long since she had given a blowjob, and it was turning her on like crazy! With a rumbling purr, she began bobbing up and down on his young shaft, sucking hard at the burning meat between her lips.
Little paws found her head, tugging gently at her coif of hair, while his moans of pleasure echoed down from what seemed like miles away. Sandra hardly noticed these things, so intent was she on the prize before her, eyes closed tightly as she shoved, again and again, the little wolf's dick into her mouth, less a blowjob than simply fucking him with her face. While one paw pressed against his tummy for support, the other one rapidly pushed up her skirt so she could rub desperately at her tingling cunt, her fingers sopping wet in seconds.
With a long, shuddering cry, the little furre blew his load, a volcanic explosion erupting into her muzzle. She gasped, leaning her head back, letting his wolf-love splatter over her face and neck, heedless of the mess it was making on her blouse, jerking at his quivering meat until it finally stopped spraying, loving every minute over it.
The young wolf sat down tiredly, panting hard. "Wow, Mis-Sandra, that was incredible. That was so wonderful, I don't know how to thank you."
"I know how you can thank me, honey." Sandra stood up, peeling off her dirty blouse, revealing the black lace bra holding her orbs in place. Lifting her skirt, she showed the male her panty-less pussy, glistening with fluid, the fur around it damp with moisture.
Graham couldn't believe what was happening. As he fought to catch his breath, leaning back on his paws, his teacher stood up and began to disrobe, pulling her messy blouse over her head and tossing it onto the ground. Her breasts, held gently in place by a lacey bra, jiggled as she moved. He liked that. He liked that a lot.
"I know how you can thank me, honey," she purred, lifting the hem of her skirt. To Graham's surprise, she wasn't wearing any panties, and a thick pink slash stood out boldly against the grey of her fur. As her aroma wafted towards him, he felt drawn unconsciously forward, nostrils flaring as he neared her pink crotch.
"Go ahead, touch it." Her voice was a whisper, but not a request. No, Graham got the feeling that nothing she said was a request, but rather a command, one that he couldn't help but obey. As his paw reached towards her, he swallowed hard. He'd never been this close to a real pussy. He'd never even seen one in real life.
As his fingers stroked the outer folds, his teacher gave a happy sigh. His fingertips were damp after just a moment, and, bringing his paw up to his face, he gave them an experimental lick.
Incredible sensations ran through his mind, wiping out all other thoughts, filling his head with the thick, cloying scent of the woman before him. Swirling scents and colors twisted inside his head, and he felt a twinge in his semi-erect cock.
As he reached for his teacher again, the squirrel shook her head, and for a moment he was crushed by the thought that it was all over. Momentarily, Sandra was on her back, skirt hitched up, legs spread wide to give him access. "Go ahead, honey. Put a finger inside me."
The horny pup didn't have to be told twice. Licking his parched lips, he slid a digit past her moist outer folds and into the hot cave within. She hissed through her teeth as he did, vaginal muscles clamping down on his extended finger.
"Good, good. Now move it back and forth."
Graham obeyed gladly, eyes fixed with fascination on her hot slit as he began to saw his finger in and out. The squirrel reacted wonderfully, body twisting sensually on the floor as waves of hot pleasure ran through her. The pink muscles in front of him twisted and squirmed, juice running down his paw and dribbling on the concrete below.
"Ooohh, good. Now be a good boy, put another finger in." Without hesitation, his middle finger joined his index, and the femme's gyrations seemed to increase in both speed and intensity. Graham didn't fully understand the whys and wherefores, but obviously the squirrel was enjoying this tremendously, and it was a huge turn-on. As his fingers disappeared into her steamy recesses, the wolf felt his cock straining once more, as hard as it was a few minutes ago.
No longer comfortable in a sitting position, Graham shifted so he could rest on one knee, sawing at the femme's pussy from a new angle, and though he didn't know it, it was driving Sandra even crazier this way. She happened to glance down, to see what he was doing as he shifted his weight, and when she saw that he was fully erect again, her eyes got wide.
"Graham, honey," she gasped, body rocking with heat. "Do you want to fuck me?"
The young furre could do nothing but nod, his voice no longer functional. Grinning wildly at him, Sandra struggled to sit up halfway, resting on her elbows, legs drawn up so that her feet were on the floor. "Go ahead, kiddo. Don't make me wait."
Graham extracted his fingers from her quivering pussy, his arm trembling violently. Taking a deep breath he climbed up onto his knees, between her legs, paws planted on either side of her heaving body. He yelped a little when her paw took his cock, and when he felt her press the head of his penis against her outer lips, he gave a gasping shudder.
Very slowly, he pushed himself inside. The sensation was indescribable. He reached deeper this way than he could with his fingers, and she was practically boiling inside. The heat and pressure on his dick was intense, and if he hadn't stopped for several moments to catch his breath, he would have cum then and there. He glanced at Sandra, as if looking for orders, and she nodded.
He didn't move slowly for very long. The feeling was too intense, the need too pressing. He slammed his cock into her, over and over again, with all the force he could muster. He was no longer a runt. He was a wild animal, pounding at the female below him, forcing himself inside her with every thrust. She moaned and writhed beneath him, biting at his shoulder, her sharp incisors cutting into his skin.
"Oh, oh, yes," Sandra groaned through clenched teeth. "That's it. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Don't you dare stop now!" Her command was to be obeyed, no matter what, and Graham gritted his teeth and sped up the pace, crashing furiously into the older furre, his body a blur of motion, his mind a reeling chaos of sex and heat.
The squirrel squealed and bucked underneath him, her vagina crushing him as a climax rocked her body, the heat inside her intense. It was too much for the young wolf. With a great cry, he came, unleashing a torrent of white-hot cum into her body, splashing out of her pussy, spattering their thighs. This was the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced, and it was several minutes before he was able to pull out without collapsing on top of her.
When her eyes stopped rolling in the back of her head, Sandra regarded the little wolf lying exhausted between her legs. He didn't look like much, but that was one of the best fucks she'd had since, well, since she could remember. She was going to make sure this wasn't a one-time thing, that was for certain.
"Well, how did you like that, honey?" she murred. The wolf only grunted in response, to tired to speak. Not that it mattered. She was in control of the boy, that was obvious. Getting to her feet, Sandra picked up her blouse and wriggled back into it, noting with irritation that it was big dollops of wolf cum on it. Well, she could take a half-day.
Turning the blouse inside out to hide the stains, she sauntered towards the gym exit, a great big smile plastered across her face. "Graham honey, come see me before class tomorrow. I think it would be a good idea if I started tutoring you, so make sure you keep your grades up. The squirrel grinned evilly to herself. Her problems were over.