Make-up Exam

"Ogilvie, you have to do something about Denise Renshaw," snarled the coach.

"I have to? She's not in any of my classes. Why do I need to do anything about her? What's the problem, anyway?"

"You have to because you're my problem solver and she's now a problem. She's our star basketball player. You know that. With her the team's a winner. Without her the team's lucky to be an also-ran."

"Still not seeing the problem. Keep her in the team."

"There's this little rule that is hampering our efforts. Any player who doesn't pass eighty percent of her classes is out of the team. Denise is sitting on seventy five percent."

"So give her a make-up exam in something she's failing at and make sure she's tutored to get through it. You've done that to other students before. What's the problem?"

"We've done that. That's how she reached the seventy five percent mark. Now we don't know what to do."

"It would probably help if she wasn't as thick as a brick," mused Sam. "Do you know what classes she's failed in?"

"Not off-hand but I'm told that she's fared so badly in the remaining classes that there's no way studying will help. Quite a lovely girl and a superb sportswoman but like you said, thick as a brick."

"Send me a list of her classes and I'll see what I can come up with. No guarantees though."

The two men went their separate ways and later that day Sam received an email from the coach. He reviewed the list, noting the failures. He also noted the successes and knew that the girl had been lucky to get the marks she had. He'd quite willingly stake a wager that if she had to sit the exact same tests again she'd probably fail them. Information just did not seem to stick with that girl.

Sam sat back, contemplating Denise's results, waiting to see if any ideas worked their way to the surface. He suddenly picked up the results again, eyes going down to a couple of extra items at the bottom of the list. He nodded to himself, reached for the phone, and called the coach.

"Tell me, coach, how old is Denise? Eighteen, uh? I noticed that one of the classes she failed was the sex education class, although how anyone could fail that is beyond me."

"That class is irrelevant," coach pointed out. "It doesn't count as to whether you pass the year or not."

"Maybe, but we're not talking about passing the year. We're talking about passing eighty percent of all classes so she can play basketball. A technicality, I admit, but one that covers the requirements."

"All well and good but how do we get her to pass a supplementary exam on sex education?"

"If you can get permission for her to have a supplementary exam and ask me to run it I suspect that I can get her through it."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Do you really want to know?"

There was silence for a few moments and then a sigh came over the phone.

"Ah, no, I don't think I do," said the coach. "I'll get permission and a copy of the supplementary exam."

"No need for the last. I don't think they have an official supplementary exam. I'll give her an oral exam that will test her knowledge and give her a pass/fail at the end of it."

Thus it was that a very grumpy Denise knocked on the door of Sam's office.

"Ah, Denise. I've been expecting you. Do you know why you've been sent to see me?"

"Not really. I should be out there practicing with the basketball team. I'm the best player they've got, you know."

"Correction. You'd be their best player if you were permitted to play for the team but you're not. You've been barred."

"What?" came the indignant cry. "Who barred me? What for? I'll lodge a complaint about this."

"The school rules barred you, courtesy of Mrs Fotheringham. You can go and complain to her if you like but I don't think you'll get very far. She's a real stickler for the rules. The only way around the problem is to fix the rule you broke."

"But I haven't broken any rules. I swear I haven't."

"Unfortunately you have. You need to pass eighty percent of the subjects that you take and you've only passed seventy five percent. You need to pass at least one more subject to get through."

"This is so unfair. I've tried my best. Everyone knows I have. I even agreed to extra coaching to get a pass on some subjects. I don't know what else I can do."

"I believe you. The coach and I have reviewed the subjects that you've failed and we've decided that one last make-up test should see you through. It seemed to us that you're a mature young lady and should know the subject we've chosen. Now I can conduct the test or we can refer it to Mrs Fotheringham and let her conduct it."

"Ah, what's the subject?"

"Oh, didn't I say. We thought sex education would be best suited. A young lady of your age with access to the internet probably knows more about the subject than I do."

"Certainly more than Mrs Fotheringham," muttered Denise to herself, not seeing the smile on Sam's face as he heard her anyway. "I guess I don't mind if you give me the test. Where's the exam paper?"

"No exam paper. It strikes me that you're the type of student that gets confused when you see exam papers. You probably know the subject thoroughly but when given an exam paper your mind just goes blank. Exams aren't kind to people like you."

"That's right," said Denise in an enthusiastic tone. "I've told my teachers this and they just don't listen."

"Understandable. Some teachers are very old-fashioned and only go with what they know works. I like to think I'm a little more forward thinking. Now shall we begin?"

At Denise's nod Sam began.

"What do you know about sex and how it works?"

Denise stuttered and stumbled and couldn't seem to answer the question. Sam sighed, holding up a hand to stem the flow of words.

"I know that this is a personal question, but are you a virgin?" he asked.

"Um, not exactly," a red-faced Denise admitted.

"In that case you certainly know what the parts are and how they fit together. Would it help if you did a little show and tell?"

"Show and tell? Like in take of my panties and show you?"

"Something like that. With the bits and pieces on display I'm sure you could name them all, yes?"

Denise chewed on her lip for a moment. She could flash Mr Ogilvie or forget about basketball. It wasn't like he was coming onto her. He seemed to genuinely want to help and as he'd guessed, she wasn't a virgin. Not experienced, really, but she knew what she knew.

"Okay. That might help," she decided. She removed her panties, jamming them into the pocket of her blouse. No way was she going to risk losing them.

"Sit down and part your legs a little," Sam instructed her. "Now I'm going to indicate certain parts of your anatomy and you can tell me what they are."

Not what she'd expected but Denise sat and waited. A hand gently cupped her vulva and she hesitated for a moment. Don't say pussy, she told herself. Identify it properly. "Vulva," she said hesitantly.

"Correct," said Sam. "I thought you'd know the proper answers. Now this?"

Fingernails were lightly scratching against her pudenda and she gasped and identified them. So it went on. Vaginal passage. How long is it? What does it do? Denise was finding the answers coming easily and was pleased with herself.

When Mr Ogilvie's fingers brushed against her clitoris she gasped but identified it.

"Why did you gasp when I did this?" she was asked as long fingers brushed her again.

She explained the sensitivity of the clitoris, gaining confidence as she went on. This was easy. She knew all the answers.

"You're doing very well, Denise. Are you prepared to identify the male parts now?"

"What?"

"There are two sexes, you know. Male and female. You certainly know the female parts and how they work. I'll show you the male parts and we'll see how you go. Don't worry. It won't bother me to show my privates."

Sam dropped his trousers and sat, indicating that Denise should come closer.

"Just touch and identify the different parts," he said.

A nervous Denise gently touched his testicles and announced they were his testes. Her hand closed around his penis and then froze as it promptly started to become tumescent.

"So what are you holding and what is it doing?" asked Sam.

"Um, I'm holding your cock, ah, I mean penis and you're getting an erection."

"Correct. Why would I be getting an erection?"

"Ah, because I was handling it and you became excited?"

"Close enough. What should I do with it?"

"Um, my boyfriend says that when it's like that you have to use it or it hurts."

"And do you believe that?"

"Nooo. Not really. He's just saying that."

"Correct again. But it is uncomfortable to be swollen like that. How do you suggest that I let it relax?"

Denise blushed. "Um, you could masturbate, or you could get someone to give you a hand. Or a mouth," she added, feeling very cheeky.

Sam nodded, looking very amused.

"True. Excellent suggestions. Okay, as far as I'm concerned you've passed your make-up exam and have now passed sex education. I'll have your records amended to show this and you can resume playing basketball."

"Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome. I suppose you'd better put your panties back on and head off to see the coach. Ah, before you do, do you want to do anything about this situation?" He waved a hand in the general direction of his erection.

"I'm not giving you a blow-job," Denise said quickly, going red.

"Or a hand-job, either. I quite understand. That's not what I'm hoping for."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you panties are off," Sam pointed out.

"And if I say no what happens to my marks?" asked Denise indignantly.

"Nothing. I've already said that you passed. I wouldn't penalise you over something like this. Totally unfair. No, I'll just sweat it out."

"Oh. Sorry." Denise rose to her feet. She looked down at the erection standing before her.

"Um, it's awfully big, isn't it?"

"Not really. You could handle it if you wanted to."

"I don't know." Denise hesitated. It wasn't as though she was going to lose her virginity over this and Mr Ogilvie was rather hot. What would it be like? She edged a little closer.

"Try a little bit and see how it goes," came the quiet suggestion. She moved a little closer and he reached for her, his hands clasping her bottom. He drew her even closer and she found herself straddling him, feeling his erection rubbing against the inside of her thighs. Her excitement was mounting.

She eased herself down, feeling his erection starting to press against her. A little adjustment and it was pressing into her. She took a deep breath, holding it as she started to slowly settle down onto his erection. She couldn't hold her breath that long. She started gasping a little, feeling him rise higher and higher inside her. She felt elated -- this was her controlling what was happening. It wasn't a case of her boyfriend forcing his cock into her. She was in control.

She just kept sinking down, taking him deeper and deeper, until she found herself straddling his lap, fully impaled by his cock, and she'd been the one to do it. Not him. She felt vaguely triumphant, she'd scored a win.

"Nice, very nice," Sam breathed. "You feel wonderful. Can I see you breasts? Only if you want to, of course."

Did she want to? She did, she decided. Slowly she took of her top, reaching around to unfasten her bra. The bra dropped away, leaving her breasts on display, nipples peaked. She smiled at the look of admiration on Mr Ogilvie's face. She had him in the palm of her hand.

Shortly after that she found that the palms of his hands were covering her breasts, fondling them gently, while Mr Ogilvie expressed his delight in the feel of them. They stayed like that for a few moments and a little niggling feeling started to agitate Denise. Was he going to start thrusting into her or was she supposed to do something? It was up to her, she decided. She'd started it and she was going to do the rest of it.

She started rocking back and forth, not fast, but enough to feel his erection start to slide up and down inside her. Yeah, she could take a lot more of this. She slowly picked up the pace, starting to slide up and down his pole, with Mr Ogilvie helpfully responding to her motions. He was reacting, she noticed, not trying to dictate what happened. Happily she kept on going.

Sam was quite content to let Denise do all the running. He found it quite an entertaining experience and it was giving her some useful experience at the same time. She was still under-performing at this point but a little teasing and he was quite sure the pace would pick up.

Something was missing, Denise was sure of it. While this was very nice she needed something extra. She looked at Mr Ogilvie, wondering how to ask him what else she was supposed to be doing.

"Do you want me to start responding more firmly?" he asked.

She nodded, relieved that she was still in command and that he was anticipating her requirements. For his part Sam started driving in harder, his hands holding her bottom and helping her to slide up and down his pole. Denise's enthusiasm seemed to be growing and he had no objection to the way things went.

The look on her face and the sound she was making was indicative to Sam that Denise was ripe to be finished off. His hands tightened on her bottom as he started driving in hard and fast. Denise didn't have a chance to comment on this sudden change as she was too busy climaxing to worry about it.

Denise hastily straightened her clothes, feeling very pleased with herself. She'd passed her exam, was back on the team, and she'd seduced Mr Ogilvie. Three wins in her book.

Sam watched as she skipped out of the room. An interesting experience. He brought up the academic scores and adjusted Denise's Sex Education mark, indicating that a make-up exam had been successfully passed. Then he called the coach.

"Coach, you'll be please to know that Denise passed her make-up exam and is now eligible to play. I've already amended her score and she has now achieved a pass in over eighty percent of her classes."

"You had no problems with her?"

"None whatsoever. She passed quite easily and after I told her this she thanked me very nicely. She just has trouble with written exams. Get her talking and she can come up with all the right answers."

Coach wondered what magic Ogilvie had worked and then decided he didn't want to know. As long as Denise was playing it was worth it.