Extra Credit

The sliding glass door rolled open and Farrah emerged from the house. She had a towel wrapped around her torso, tucked together over her upper boob swells. Bob watched with amusement as she looked around for prying neighbor eyes but the fence was tall and there was no danger of Peeping Toms.

She tiptoed across the pavers to the chaise next to his. He sat up and reached out, capturing the tail of her modesty pool wrap. She protested his tug and fought his continued pull but he was stronger than her and the cover was snatched away.

There she stood in her one-piece swimsuit: skimpy bikini bottoms only. Her hands tried to cover her naked breasts, but as they say, they were more than a handful and Bob was delighted by the sunlit view of side bulging feminine bounty. She was sarcastic to his laughter.

"You said 'one-piece'. Hah; funny guy. I thought one piece was a tank suit, not a topless beach getup."

Bob couldn't stop his mirth and the situation melted into Farrah smiling through her false fury. She had performed sex with this guy three times already; why be shy now about some playful nudity during the remaining weekend?

She sat on the chaise next to Bob as he faced her and he traced a lazy finger along the tan lines showing on her breasts where she had sunned with a bikini top on.

"These need some sun to fade the different tones. Stay here and start working on that while I fix us some breakfast."

A half-hour later, he brought out fruit, croissants, juice, butter, and jam to a poolside umbrella table while Farrah lay topless tanning, her eyes protected by bug shield sunglasses. He noticed the way her boobs rested in torus mounds on her chest. He also noticed some pink beginning to form on her lighter skin.

'She needs sunscreen' he mused.

Farrah was in a mild doze but lifted her head at his approach, starting to sit up. He placed a palm flat on her sternum and eased her back down. She rested again as he found a tube of balm and greased his hands with a generous glob. She understood and lay still.

Farrah felt manly hands start at her outer bulges and he swept the sun lotion all over her tits. His slick hands kneaded her masses and the pale skin was quickly coated with the protective ointment.

She knew that by now she was well covered but he continued the pleasant fondling, picking lightly at her areolae, as the massaging continued non-stop. Amazingly, Bob's continued handling left her mildly excited and she reveled in his treatment of her body.

Unexpectedly, the caresses stopped. She saw a shadow cross her vision and felt him straddle her chair; a meaty mass plopped on her chest, and she felt his hands lift the sides of her breasts and press them together. She raised her sunglasses and beheld Bob's knob slit peering out from the man-made boob tunnel. It retreated out of sight within the slippery skin folds, only to emerge again a moment later into daylight.

Again, and again, the little one-eyed fellow poked into view and retreated. Then, it showed itself more prominently, stayed in place, throbbed a few beats, and sprayed milky spunk on her face, neck, and compressed cleavage. She opened her mouth in surprise and a jetted glob of semen fell between her lips. She sensed its entry and closed her mouth just as suddenly as she had opened it. The salty concoction was unlike anything before, a new taste for her to consider. She wasn't into blowjobs, despite her other sexual experiences, and wanted to spit it out.

She lay still, allowing the scene to play out until the spouts stopped. The goo was sliding off her face to drip in her hair and drop on the chair. Bob wearily climbed off her body and plopped aside on the adjacent chaise.

"Well, that should take care of sun protection. Hungry? Let's eat."

Farrah wiped her face and chest with the previously robbed towel, spitting out the dregs of his spunk. She joined her host for breakfast at the umbrella table. She sat in full boob display, leaning in to pluck a bit of food, her tits jostling gently while the stray flecks of his white cum dried in her hair. Bob found it an egotistical sight, evidence of his play toy enduring his every whim for his sexual entertainment.

The rest of the morning was relaxed as Bob and Farrah enjoyed the poolside privacy. Once, when she ventured near the water, testing the temperature with a furtive toe, Bob pushed her in and when her head bobbed up, sputtering, he jumped in and dunked her under again. She upended his feet from below and a shallow water wrestling match ensued, filled with boob, cock, and pussy grabs during the splashy water cavorting. The laughing pair retired to the house interior for respite.

That afternoon, Bob was ensconced alone on the living room sofa, watching a college football game. He had granted Farrah free time all afternoon to explore his media room's library of books and videos. He had peeked in on her several times; she was cuddled up on the room's sofa, entranced as she perused his collection of porn. This girl was a very worldly gal, surfing through his diverse collection of fucked Oriental whores, forced housewife MILFs, and punished college coeds.

Farrah wandered into the living room wearing one of his dress shirts. Her breasts were swaying loosely beneath the fabric. The shirt tails were long enough to cover her ass but he knew she wore no panties. He had taken the school clothes she had arrived in yesterday and hidden them away. She would get them back upon leaving, save for his token panty memento.

"How's the game?"

State U was behind their arch-rival at halftime.

"Our team's not doing as well as we should. They're probably not getting the motivation they need from the cheerleaders."

Farrah saw the spirited girls dancing and jumping, boobs bouncing, and panties flashing during high kicks.

"Well, the girls seem to be trying their best."

"Trying isn't good enough. The boys need to be suitably encouraged. And the sideline cheers aren't what encourages them. It's the pussy action after winning the game that the ball players really crave."

Farrah caught his drift. The relaxed crowd enjoyed the bouncy exhibitionists in their tight flirty uniforms. The skirts twirled, the boobs and asses bobbled and the long hair fluttered with each semi-gymnastic jump and dance move.

But, of course, the gritty players on the field dreamed of more. They wanted those bouncy bodies naked and bouncing on their dicks. It took a special kind of sports booster to really boost their spirits. Farrah, as the head cheerleader, pondered whether her squad could do more to bolster her junior college team's success. She wanted to find out.

"Stay here; I'll be right back."

While searching in the closet for the ill-defined one-piece swimsuit, she had come across a skimpy version of a cheerleader uniform. She scurried to retrieve it and discovered it was at least a size too small but she could still squeeze into it, albeit boobs bulging sideways in the large arm openings and her lower ass cheeks exposed. But it would serve its purpose. She walked gingerly back to the living room, keeping everything inside the outfit... for now.

Bob was still there, watching the second half. Farrah skipped into the room, in front of the TV, and jumped into a broadly smiling X-limb 'tah-dah' stance. One boob threatened to free itself but she spurned any effort to adjust it, maintaining her pose.

Bob forgot the game and shifted his attention to the cheerleader trying to boost his spirits. It was working; his cock boosted to attention. He let his legs spread a little wider and Farrah perceived the subtle move. She held her spread posture and leaned forward to touch her toes, proving her agile flexibility which Bob had never doubted. It was a purposeful down-sweater view of her packed tits. Bob widened his legs a little more.

She bolted upright and this time the uniform failed, or rather, actually performed its currently intended function; her bare tit popped out. She effected a shimmy and now both shaking tits were out of the uniform. She turned about and bent over again. The skirt rode up and Bob saw her exposed pink pussy framed between her upper thighs. She watched between her legs with her face inverted as Bob smiled and gave his lap a little pat.

Farrah knew she had Bob's attention and she turned, taking up his invitation, making a few steps closer. She leaned over his lap and fumbled with his pants zipper. He couldn't resist her dangling breasts and his fingers tweaked her nipples. She didn't flinch at the pinch, it was playful, not painful, and continued her task of extracting his boner.

A few rubs confirmed its firmness and she duck-walked forward to straddle his lap. Settling close, she reached beneath to position his erection, gently touching the tip to her bare pussy lips. Then a dramatic pause as she posed her question.

"Did you help win your ball game today?"

Bob took his theatrical cue and eagerly nodded 'Yes'.

"Good boy. Then, I have a reward for you."

She pressed down and took him all in, rubbing her clitoris on his groin bone. Bob jogged his hips upwards but Farrah placed a 'shushing' finger on his lips.

"You should be tired after all that hard playing. It's my turn now; you just stay hard. I'll do all the work. Okay?"

Bob smiled, relaxed down in his cushion, and gave himself over to the head cheerleader. He rested his hands on the chair arms; she rested her forearms on his shoulders, her forehead against his, looking eye to eye.

Her hips cycled and set a pace that slowly and lovingly rose and fell, rose and fell, on his rigid meat pole. She took a moment at the bottom of each down stroke to roll her hips and rub her clit against him. That move simultaneously rubbed his coronal vee against her vaginal tube tissues deep inside. She kept going and going, a loyal cheerleader doing her part to boost her team's spirit.

Bob felt the buzzing spreading in his groin and his breath puffed higher and higher. He moved his hands to her oscillating hips, ready to make sure she didn't stop now.

But she didn't, she wouldn't, she couldn't; this was her chance to prove herself worthy of head cheerleader status.

And she did.

Bob tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide, sucking in a bracing breath. Farrah saw his coming peak and willed herself to join him, maintaining the same unhurried pace, stimulating her clit in sync. Her rigid spine arched back and her body trembled in ecstasy. She heard his ultimate roar, felt his jetting discharge, and her cunt spasmed contractions in orgasmic delight right in time with her teacher's spew and howl.

It went on for longer than she ever remembered it happening before. And then her spine slackened just enough and she leaned forward, planting her boobs in Bob's face, her arms hugging his neck. She pulled his head to her chest as the waves of nervous lubricity rolled over her body. When the waves of pleasure clouding her brain ebbed, she felt Bob's struggles to free his nose and mouth for a dose of oxygen.

She loosened her hug and his hands pressed her boobs as he pushed her partially upright, and took a gulp of cool air. A few breaths later, he lipped locked a nipple and suckled the brown disk. Farrah groaned in delight at the new tingles effusing through her chest meat and beyond.

Their post-orgasmic cuddles dwindled to stillness. Farrah dismounted and excused herself to clean up. Weary Bob returned to the TV and saw the score was tied. A last-second field goal gave State U the win. Bob chuckled, wondering if the winning boys at State U would get a rewarding rendezvous with cheerleader destiny. They should, they earned it, but who knows what might be.

Bob surfed the channels for the next few hours, finding none of the broadcast entertainment very entertaining. Farrah was already in bed, lightly sleeping, when Bob retired for the night. He crawled in next to her, careful not to disturb her slumber. He lay awake next to her, listening to her soft breathing.

In hindsight, she had been almost too willing to stay the weekend. Yes, she had feelings for her boyfriend but she could have balked at his assault on her romantic fidelity. With her dynamic looks and attitude, she should have found plenty of other popular boys and wealthy men ready to be captured and wiled by her charms. Why was she so willing to accommodate him?

His fertile thoughts finally tapered off as he joined his bedmate in sleep.

Bob woke slowly; his mind triggered by a strangely familiar sensation. His cock was half hard; morning wood was something he was used to. But this morning, his cock felt warm and wet and tingly. His arm reached over to Farrah's side of the bed. She wasn't there. He came more awake and saw the fluttering of the partially rolled-down sheets.

His hands went to his waist and bumped against a mass of hair, Farrah's hair, sprawled on his stomach. He craned his neck up and saw her cloth-shrouded head moving gently at his groin.

Awareness grew as he perceived that the warm wetness was her mouth sucking his cock. He patted her head fondly as he lay back and let her have her way. More conscious now, he felt how his shaft was swollen and elongated, providing a fuller substance for her suckling. A female's handling of morning wood was always a welcome ritual for the virile male.

Bob welcomed Farrah's initiative but thought she was only playing, trying something new to see if she liked it. He tried to press her head to take him deeper but she only took the fore-end, half of his erection, in her mouth. He wanted, no needed, something more to really excite his libido.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled up. She resisted his attempts to disengage her mouth from his erection, sucking forcefully and clutching at the penile base. Pulling harder, he dragged her head up and twisted it around, fighting to control her body squirming. He got her laying on her back in the middle of the bed. He took one wrist and quickly attached it to the convenient but previously unnoticed bedpost strap. He stretched her other arm open and attached that one to the opposite bedpost restraint.

Farrah was really unhappy now and warped her chest and torso, trying to stretch across to release the cuffs, but the short straps restricted her reach. Bob saw her tits wobble on her chest as she struggled, a tempting sight. Alighting the bed, he grabbed a flailing ankle and secured it to the lower bedpost, then grabbed the last kicking foot and fastened that one down as well.

Farrah lay spreadeagle, naked and fuming on the sheets. Bob surveyed her vulnerability from his bedside stance.

"I'll give you a little time to compose yourself."

With that, he left the room. Through Farrah's continued struggles, the awareness of her helplessness sunk in and she settled down to lay immobile, awaiting Bob's next move.

In time, she sensed an aroma of sausage and coffee, the sounds of kitchen clatter, and then the steps approaching her lockdown chamber. He entered carrying a tray with the food and set it on the bedside stand. Leaning over her, he rechecked her constraints and propped her head up on an extra pillow. Then he posed his proposition.

"Hungry?"

Farrah's stomach grumbled autonomically and her appetite made her more affable.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"What was that? I didn't understand."

"Yes!" she sputtered.

"Well, then, good girls get fed."

He touched a strawberry to her lips; she opened and stretched to bite at it but he drew it away.

"No, not like that. Pucker up and suck it in, like a cock knob. You know how."

He touched her lips again and this time she puckered and sucked, drawing the sweet red berry through her lips. She chewed and swallowed, looking at her controller for another morsel.

Bob selected a thin breakfast sausage and waggled the 4-inch tube of spiced meat above her face.

"Same routine, but no biting until it's all in."

He touched her lips with the packaged meat roll and she complied, sucking on the tip as he slowly let more and more in until all he held was the last inch, his fingertips against her lips. He drew the food back until it was almost removed, then let go as she sucked it quickly back in and it disappeared into her mouth. He saw her jaw cycle as she consumed the peppery meat product.

"Now, before any more food, I'm going to feed you my cock. No biting or chewing! Good girls get to finish breakfast; bad girls stay in bed hungry for the rest of the day. Understand?"

Farrah nodded reluctantly. Bob mounted the bed and straddled her chest, his cock waggling in her face. He eased forward, touching her lips and she puckered to draw him in like she had the strawberry. He eased forward, then drew back, like the sausage.

Bob's hand went behind her neck, cupping the base of her skull. With a sudden thrust, he buried his cock deep in her mouth. His knob bumped her tonsils. Her eyes went wide and she weakly suppressed her gag reflex. He pulled back an inch to let her control her breathing.

With his hand bracing her head, he gave a mighty shove and drove his cock into her throat. She gagged and coughed; he held her tight, watching her facial distress at this untried phenomenon. Her struggles jittered her tonsils on his corona and he moaned uncontrollably at the exhilarating sensation.

Farrah had wanted to try fellatio, see if she could come to accept it, but Bob had forced her into deepthroat. He hoped she would be more amenable to voluntary future repetitions. He backed off and rested his erection on her tongue, giving her temporary relief from the difficult technique. She would come around in time with more practice. Enough for now.

He drew out, stretched himself out prone atop her, and poked at her pussy. His saliva-wetted shaft impaled her cunt and he stroked himself to orgasm. Alighting the bed, he released her cuffs and helped her sit up. They finished the breakfast and Bob left her to freshen up.

The weekend mates lounged separately around the house and pool the remainder of the day, fixing their own meals and giving each other space, especially Farrah to ponder her thoughts. Bob had abused Farrah for his own enjoyment this morning and he didn't want to drive her into resentment with too much meddling. Farrah needed some time to calm down and consider what she had experienced since Friday night.

She wandered into the living room late in the afternoon to find Bob reading.

"Can I ask you something?"

He patted the seat next to his on the sofa and she settled in beside him.

"You said you would teach me tutoring skills. When will that be?"

"Oh, but my dear, I already have."

"When?"

"Tutoring is more than just the subject matter. You need Curt truly craving something in order for him to pay attention and learn."

"And how will I do that?"

"I showed you how a little pain and reward can solicit correct answers. You showed me how cheerleaders can incentivize a team with anticipated post-game rewards. Sometimes you have to get rough to teach him to try for deeper efforts. Tantalize Curt with the anticipation of a reward, like giving a dog a treat for good behavior."

He saw her frown while the mental wheels turned. He decided to get more specific.

"After you review the material, give him a ten-point quiz. If he gets fewer than 6 right, a peck on the cheek for encouragement to try again. If he gets 7 right, a quickie handjob. For 8, a blowjob. For nine, cowgirl sex. And a perfect score deserves a full round the world: suck him to hardness, let him ride a missionary fuck, then a deep throat swallowing finale. He'll get the point pretty quick."

Farrah saw the light and understood how she could ensure Curt would get his scholarship and follow her to State U next year. Gratitude for Mr. Kenworth filled her heart.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. His hand sidled up her chest and fondly cupped her loose boob; things went along well from there. For the rest of Sunday night, they engaged in all the different poses and positions: cunnilingus, fellatio, missionary, cowgirl, doggie, and sidesaddle. Exhaustion eventually led them to deep slumbers.