Kit’s new teacher, Ms. Vilmer, had the most unusual methodology.

She’d been in the business for three years now. Her students had gone from playground loitering slouches that peaked at high D’s and low C’s, at most, to straight A’s. The transition to seventh grade proved challenging for the orange-and-white twelve-year-old, so Kit’s parents paid her a visit.

When Ms. Vilmer explained her technique to the vulpine couple, the mother was shocked and horrified, but Mr. Fox managed to calm her down and, together, they agreed to give the unorthodox twentysomething badger a chance.

When Kit came back from school Friday afternoon, his mother explained that, from then on, Monday evenings would be for extracurricular lessons at Ms. Vilmer’s place. After some cajoling, Kit agreed. What he didn’t expect was his dear mother’s next request, something that was remarkably embarrassing for both of them. He, however, red in the face, agreed.

Monday came, and at 5 o’clock, Kit found himself in Ms. Vilmer’s basement. He was in a repurposed dental chair, arms and legs spread and strapped down, naked yet comfortable. “You’re kinda pretty, Ms. Vilmer.” His white-tipped tail, sticking out of a hole in the backrest, fidgeted.

“Oh, that’s awful sweet of you,” cooed Ms. Vilmer, dressed in a floral pattern tank top and black maxi skirt. She wrapped her hand around his erect penis. “Been a good boy, yeah? Did what Mommy asked you to?”

Kit smiled wide. His black nose twitched, and he nodded. “She told me I couldn’t play with myself the whole weekend. That was an icky conversation. Didn’t know she knew.” He rocked his hips back and forth. “Why are you touching my pee-pee? And you still haven’t told me why I gotta be nakey.”

The badger tickled under the youngster’s chin. “You’ll understand. You see, Kit, I’m gonna make sure you’re familiar with the material on this Friday’s English Language Arts test.” She began to stroke his cock. “And if you do really well, sugar, I’ll do what you do with your pee-pee every night, m’kay?”

He gulped and glanced at her chest—Ms. Vilmer’s cleavage hinted at a substantial bosom; Kit had no clue what cup size, as he wouldn’t understand those things, but he liked what he saw. And what he felt. “What I do with my pee-pee every night? You mean rub till the warm, gooey stuff comes out?” He frowned at the handjob and licked his lips.

“That’s right, sugar. Now you’re catching on,” said the badger as a drop of pre pooled at the preadolescent’s tip.

“But. But what if I don’t do real well? Would you make it come out?”

The teacher shook her head. “Then I stop touching you. I’ll let you simmer here till you’re all soft.”

Kit’s eyes went wide, and his ears drooped. “What? Ms. Vilmer, you’d do that?”

The badger, with a gleam in her eye, said, “You bet I would, Kit. How else would I make sure you learn your lesson so you can do well, hm?”

“But Ms. Vilmer! I haven’t touched myself all Friday! And all Saturday!” Kit gulped. “And I touched myself yesterday, but I stopped before it came out . . .”

“Nope.” She rested her hand on the base of his cock. “You gotta earn your orgasm, Kit. Yeah? That’s your orgasm, the good feeling.” She extended her leg forward; a bare paw came into view from under the hemline of her skirt. With a toe that was white on the bottom—like the rest of the sole of her foot—Ms. Vilmer pressed a red button. A large LCD screen powered on. It had a one-paragraph excerpt from Holly Schindler’s [i]The Junction of Sunshine and Lucky[/i] on it. “Can you read that from here, sugar?”

Kit’s butt went from side to side as Ms. Vilmer teased the head of his cock with her fingertips. “Yes. Yes! I can, Ms. Vilmer.”

“Good. So, I’m gonna have you read ten excerpts, OK?” She massaged his fuzzy balls to keep him hard. “You’ll have five minutes to read each of them, and after each excerpt, I’m going to show you a multiple-choice question. Five minutes per question. Not more.” With her other four-fingered paw, she massaged the tip of his twitching cock. “And you get to make at most two mistakes.”

The juvenile fox bit his lip. He scowled at her hand as it teased out a drop of pre. “What happens if I make more mistakes?” Kit winced, one of his ears flattening against his head—he knew the answer, but a part of him, the part that was desperate to ejaculate, was hopeful.

“Oh, sugar.” Ms. Vilmer grabbed hold of his shaft and looked at him with the most kittenish expression, one eyebrow arched, the corner of her maw twisted into a cute smirk. “We already went over this. No warm, gooey stuff. No cumshot. No orgasm, no cumming, no ejaculation. Whatever you want to call it, it won’t happen.” She leaned in close, hand still wrapped around his cock, and nuzzled his fluffy cheek.

He turned his head to look at her dead in the eyes. “That’s evil!” He clenched and unclenched his hands, tail drooping behind him like a soggy noodle. “Ms. Vilmer, I’ll get all the questions right next week! But [i]please[/i] make it come out today!”

“[i]Shush![/i] It’s my job to make sure you get good grades. I charge good money for this service, and I do not disappoint.” Ms. Vilmer began an agonizingly slow handjob—[i]just[/i] fast enough to keep him nice and hard, to coax gallons upon gallons of pre out of him, yet [i]just[/i] slow enough to deny him earth-shattering relief. “You got five minutes to read that paragraph, sugar,” said the badger. “Come on, Kit. Focus.”

Kit’s furry rump, with a mind of its own, began to grind against her soft palm.

“No!” She withdrew her hand, leaving the hapless fox fucking the air. “Bad Kit! Keep your butt still and take your teasing.” She put the tip of her finger on his nose. “No more warnings, sugar.”

He took a couple of deep breaths and made his stewing pelvis submit. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vilmer.” The leather squeaked beneath his ass.

“Good boy.” She eyed him with a flirtatiously raised eyebrow and grabbed hold of him again. “Come on, sugar. Nice and loud,” the badger said, completing the first downstroke, her warm palm on his thigh.

With his toes clenched, nostrils flaring, Kit began to read.

***

Ninety-four minutes later, the last question appeared on screen.

With pupils the size of electrons, an impossibly horny and frustrated Kit spoke. “Ms. Vilmer!” he yelled, turning to the badger. “I really don’t know the answer!” The fox’s cheeks were flushed. Sweat ran down his forehead.

“Sugar. Remember what we said? Two mistakes at most. Else, I will not make it come out. You shouldn’t have gotten questions 4 and 9 wrong, silly.” She tapped his balls with the tip of her finger, her other paw stroking his pre-soaked shaft. “You want your orgasm? Focus.”

“Ms. Vilmer! I’m begging! Even if I get it wrong, can you please, [i]please[/i] make it come out?”

“Nope. Your parents paid me a good deal of money, and it wasn’t to put up with your hormones. Come on.”

Kit’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he turned back to the screen.

[i]What is the best definition of “shimmies” as it is used in line 1?[/i]

[b]A[/b] [i]skids[/i]
[b]B[/b] [i]stuns[/i]
[b]C[/b] [i]shakes[/i]
[b]D[/b] [i]sputters[/i]

“Can I please have a hint at least, Ms. Vilmer?” he asked. His thighs flexed as he did his level best to ignore the palm of her paw rubbing against the excruciatingly sensitive ridge of his cock.

“Do you get hints during exams, you cute li’l thing?”

“No,” said Kit, crestfallen.

Ms. Vilmer nodded. “That’s right, sugar. Come on, it isn’t so hard.”

He closed his eyes and focused. Focused for dear life. So much rode on this answer. So much pleasure, so much cum. Kit thought back to the first porn video he’d ever seen, some two weeks ago. The girl in the video, upon reaching orgasm, rattled, convulsed. After ejaculating all over the raccoon’s face, her male co-star had said . . . had said . . . that she’d . . . shaken . . . that she’d . . . shimmied!

Kit’s eyes shot open. “C!” His neck almost broke as he turned, wide-eyed, to face Ms. Vilmer. “C, Ms. Vilmer! That’s the answer!”

“My, my. Look at you,” she said. “You sure about that, Kit?” The question was only fair—it was the fox’s last fighting chance at orgasm.

“Yes!” he squealed. “Please, Ms. Vilmer! Show me the answer! Make it squirt out!”

With a couple of minutes to spare, the badger nodded and tapped the foot switch—the answer lit up in green. “Good boy, Kit. That’s correct!”

“Can you please make it come out now? Please, Ms. Vilmer!” Kit’s heart thrummed at the thought of sweet, sweet relief. “Please, please, please, pretty please!”

“You are such a cute little fellow,” said Ms. Vilmer. “I dunno how you did it, but you got pretty lucky there.” By this point, the badger had stroked dozens upon dozens of stiff dicks, had made countless adolescents and preteens squirm. Ms. Vilmer had it down to a science—every twitch, every blink, every flick of the tail told her what felt most pleasurable; her hand settled into a comfortable pace, a healthy succession of upstrokes and downstrokes. She knew, from the way Kit’s face lit up, that this was exactly how fast he pawed at night, right after his mom and would to bed.

Kit beamed and flexed his toes. With a smug smile of victory on his face, he closed his eyes and laid his head back. “Your paw feels so good, Ms. Vilmer,” he said.

“Aw, thanks, sugar,” she said, stroking the fur on his cheek with the back of her hand. “How long you been playing with yourself?”

Kit giggled and half-opened his eyes. “Couple weeks now.”

“And how’d you learn to touch yourself?”

He rolled his eyes up, remembering the sounds, the visuals. “I saw this video, and there was this cute raccoon chick. The guy had his pee-pee in her. He pulled it out and was rubbing it and then he let that white stuff go all over her face. Bobby said it was just pee and CGI and stuff, but I wanted to try, so I rubbed and then it sprayed out and it felt like the bestest thing ever.” Kit shuddered—the mere thought of that first orgasm was nothing short of heaven. “Bobby still didn’t believe me, so then he rubbed too, and his pee-pee also squirted, and it felt so good for him his toes curled and he scratched up my floor.”

“That sounds like a great introduction to the birds and the bees, Kit.” Ms. Vilmer’s paw went up and down. “Who’s Bobby? You have a buddy you learned with?” 

Kit nodded. “Mhm. Me and my friend Bobby learned masteebation from that site. We always do stuff together.” The fox’s tail pointed straight up, and his velvety scrotum squeezed into him. “Ms. Vilmer, it’s gonna happen! It’s gonna come out!” In preparation for the cumshot, his cock let loose a sizeable spurt of precum, coating his tummy, his balls, her hand.

“What did you just say?” She opened her white-palmed paw mid-stroke, leaving the six-inch boner bobbing in the air to spew pre all over.

“NO!” Kit’s toes gnarled as if someone had taken a hammer to his balls. “Ms. Vilmer! What gives? It was gonna come out!”

“You made three mistakes!”

The helpless fox thrust his cock, a futile attempt to get any sort of friction. “No, Ms. Vilmer! I only got two questions wrong!” His muzzle was scrunched up in confused betrayal, in adolescent lust.

“‘My friend Bobby and I,’ sugar. That’s what you should have said.” The badger booped him on the nose. “No gooey stuff. No cumming.”

“Ms. Vilmer, I [i]deserve[/i] to have the white stuff squirt out! I got only two questions wrong! Please!” he yelled.

“Kit, I said [i]two mistakes[/i] at most. I didn’t mean just the questions.”

“Ms. Vilmer, that’s cheating! That isn’t fair!” He stared at her for two whole seconds, hoping, praying, that this was some sort of cruel joke. “Ms. Vilmer, please! I was so close! You have to make it come out! I want it to come out so, so bad! Please, you gotta!”

“Nope,” she said. Ms. Vilmer padded to the large screen. “Them’s the rules.” She got on her knees; her rump and white foot bottoms faced the shocked youngster. She turned off the TV’s power supply, signaling the end of the lesson. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to have dinner. Then I’m catching up with a couple shows. I’ll let you out after I finish.”

Kit hyperventilated as he tried to tug his ankles out of the restraints. “I’ll never make that mistake again, Ms. Vilmer! I promise! Please, just stroke a bit more! I [i]need[/i] it to come out! I want my orgasim or however you say it!” he yelled.

The badger climbed the stairs that led to the living room. “I bet you won’t make that mistake again,” she crooned, opening the door. “Hang tight, silly. Don’t worry, I’ll leave the lights on!”