I’ve had a crush on my driving instructor Mr. Dalton for a while.
And to be clear, this isn’t one of those situations where I’m driving badly so I can be around him. I’m just a really bad driver. I would have gotten my license at 16 when all of my friends did if I could, but I’ve sucked at it for three years and now I really really need my license before I go off to college. I took a gap year for the express purpose of learning how to drive, so I have to do it.
I glance over at him. “I can go through, right?”
“Smart boy,” Mr. Dalton says from the passenger’s seat. “Remember. I want you to start recognizing when you can go through without looking at me. You know everything, you just need to trust your gut.”
I take a deep breath and relax my paws on the wheel. “Okay.”
“Make a left here. Trust yourself.”
It’s one of those complicated intersections with a barrier between the perpendicular road’s left and right sections where you have to follow the dashed lines to the correct lane. Normally I would remember to follow the car ahead of me, but right now I am the car in front. He’s really drilled down on me about swearing out loud, so I just do it in my head. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
But then I make the turn. And we’re good.
“There you go!” he coos. “Good boy!”
That’s the thing that I like about him. He’s 25 years my senior and maybe a hundred pounds heavier than I am, but the old wolf really believes in me. He wants me to succeed. And when I do, he has a tendency of calling me a good boy.
I think he’s realized that’s the type of positive reinforcement that works on me. When he calls me a good boy, when he ruffles my fur or puts his paw on my shoulder, it fucking works. It makes me feel like I’m doing everything right. It also gives me a throbbing boner, which is just about the most distracting thing to drive with.
I keep driving us back to the driving center. I’m mostly quiet for about ten minutes as I hold on for dear life. I only ask him for help at an all-way stop with three bicyclists, which he admits was a difficult situation. When I look over at him next, he’s grinning at me.
“What?” I say, laughing.
“I’m just proud of you.”
And I’m sad to say that that gives me another throbbing boner.
I keep my eyes on the road. “You are?”
“10 weeks ago, I couldn’t get you out of the parking lot. Look at you now.”
“And that was with years of practice.”
“You’re a good boy, you know that?”
He fucking says it again. He can definitely see the corner of my lip trembling, my cheeks growing pink, but I can’t do anything about it if we want to get out of the car alive. He might even be able to see my erection. I’m wearing these blue jeans that display any erection I have like a neon sign’s pointing to it. I just take a deep breath and keep driving.
“It’s all thanks to you,” I respond. “Clearly your methods worked.”
“Oh, my methods?” he asks. I can’t get a read on his face, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he says it like he’s flirting with me. “It’s all you, boy.”
He’s laying the boy thing on thick. It’s usually every so often, not like this.
“You’re so kind, though. You’re so supportive.”
“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true, though. I’m just affirming what I see, which is that you’re a good boy.”
“Oh my god.” I don’t mean to let it slip from my mouth, but my cock throbs and I do anyway.
“What?”
“You just…” I swallow, making a left turn without even thinking about it. “Just when you call me that…”
“A good boy?”
I whimper. “Yeah.”
“You’re a good boy.” He says it so casually, leaning his left arm on the top of the seat behind him. “Why don’t you make a left at the next light?”
But I know what I’m going to do. I don’t need to look to him for that anymore.
“I think I’m gonna pull over.”
“Ohhh,” he responds. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Show me, boy.”
Nervously but with conviction, I end up turning onto a logging trail. It’s just red dirt and trees for miles after this. I slow the car to a stop on the side of the trail, all of the marks on the ground washed away by rain.
“You don’t even need me anymore!” he says. “You know just where to go, boy.”
I let my paws go from the wheel and take a breath. “Mr. Dalton?”
“Yeah?”
I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Do you wanna show me any more of your methods?”
“Ohh.” He puts his paw behind his head. “Yeah, boy. I think there’s a lot I could teach you.”
“Yeah?”
“Lots I could show you.”
“Why don’t you?”
He grins and lets his paws move down to his slacks. He slowly undoes the button, looking to me for permission, and when I’m still smiling, he continues. As he undoes the zipper, his erection still sheathed in a pair of black boxer briefs pops out. He shakes it out of the fly.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“I’ve been teachin’ for a while,” he responds. “I know my stuff.”
His cock is beautiful. About five inches, uncircumcised, with a thick bush of pubic hair peaking through the top. He’s showing me his cock and somehow I’m less nervous than when I was driving.
“I guess I should show you what I’m working with, huh?”
“Why don’t you, boy?”
I smile nervously. I’ve had sex before, but never with my driving instructor, that’s for sure. I unzip my fly and wrangle my own cock out. Maybe six inches and a little thicker than him, with a thin pink tip.
“There we go,” he says. “Not bad at all. I can work with that.”
“What are you,” I stutter, “What are you gonna teach me?”
“Why don’t you get out of the car, kitty?”
I take a deep breath as I stand up, my cock still sticking out of my fly. The sunset in the distance is gorgeous. I stuff everything back in as I step around to his side of the car where he’s standing all confidently, dick pointing straight up.
He puts his paws on my shoulders and presses me up against the car. I shiver when the cool metal touches my fur.
“Good boy,” he coos into my ear. I feel his voice everywhere inside of me. “Goooooood boy.”
He slips his thumbs in between the waistband of my jeans and my briefs, then slides one in front to undo the button. It slumps to the ground like I wasn’t wearing it in the first place. Then his paws go back to my butt, fondling them through the fabric of my underwear.
“So soft…” he whispers.
“What if someone comes?”
“Relax, kitty,” he says. “I got you. Any loggers head this way, I just pull up your jeans. We were just takin’ a stretch break.”
“Okay,” I whisper into the glass of the car. “Okay.”
“Do you have a condom, little kitty?”
“You don’t need to use a condom.”
“Attaboy.” He lowers just the back of my briefs, keeping my already hard cock still squarely inside the pouch. “Look at that pretty butt.”
I whimper. “Are you gonna…”
“I’m gonna fuck you, boy,” he responds. “I’m gonna teach you all I know.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
Mr. Dalton spits onto his cock and rubs it in. “Alright, boy. Here we go.”
Using one paw to keep my briefs down and to stretch my buttcheek, he uses the other to carefully position his cock. He’s a foot taller than me so he has to squat a little to line everything up properly. As he presses his cock between my buttcheeks, I feel his belly squish against the small of my back.
“Just like this, see?”
“That’s good.”
“Good. I’m gonna press in now.”
And he does. With just spit as lube, it definitely doesn’t catch at first. With a little more pressing (and a lot of help from me using the back of a hairbrush as a dildo for the last couple of years), it slips right in.
I whimper and squirm as he presses it in.
“Hold still, boy.” He uses his paws to hold my waist in place as he slowly pushes the rest of himself into me. “Hooold on.”
I press my forehead against the cool glass and try to breathe. He reassures me the entire time until I finally feel his crotch go flush with my butt.
“There we go,” he says. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“Give me a second.”
“Of course.”
I listen to the distant sound of the highway as I get used to the feeling of having him inside of me. Based on the way he’s gripping my hips, I can tell he’s raring to fuck me. His paws slowly move up my body until he’s gripping my thin chest from under my shirt. I am completely in his grasp.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’m ready.”
“Good.”
The first thrust rattles my whole body. He presses all of his body weight into me and I’m totally not prepared for it. My dick throbs with pleasure.
I’m able to steel myself for the second one, planting my paws tight into the dirt as he thrusts himself into me once again. Mr. Dalton doesn’t hold back, pressing himself deep inside of me each time. He holds onto my chest as his pace quickens.
He gets me to a comfortable place quickly. His thighs plap against mine, his crotch against my butt. He grumbles and groans his way through more reassurances that I’m doing a good job: “There we… mmmph… there we go. You’re doing such a… ffffuck… such a good job, boy.”
“No swearing,” I respond.
He chuckles. “Now who’s the teacher again?” And answers his own question with the biggest thrust he’s given me so far, forcing my whole body back against the car again. “Me.”
My cock, still sheathed in my briefs, is pressed right against the door of the car. I don’t think that would usually feel good, but my underwear lends a slickness to it that allows my cock to slide up and down against the smooth metal. With his whole body pressed into me, each thrust feels like my cock being stroked.
His paws move all over my body. On my hips, my chest, my waist. “Such a good boy,” he whispers, tail swinging back and forth. “So beautiful.”
I’m feeling close already. I grip the top of the car as my cock slides from side to side, feeling the pleasure reverberate through my body.
“You don’t know…” he grunts. “How long I’ve been wanting to do this.”
“Really?”
“Since you got in my fucking car day one…” he grunts right into my ear. “I saw that little kitty body, that sweet smile, how much you liked being called a good boy. I wanted it so bad. I just didn’t think it would happen like this.”
“Keep going,” I whimper.
“You’re such a good boy. You’re such a good good good good good good boy. I love your soft body, your warmth, your little smile.”
“Keeeeep going. I’m so close.”
“Good kitty. Good good good good kitty.”
And with one more thrust, that’s enough to bring me over the edge. I grip the top of the car tight as I orgasm into my briefs, the cum leaking out and dripping down the metal of the car. He fucks me as fast as he can, his belly slapping against my back, as I struggle to hold myself up.
“I’m gonna cum in you,” he says. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum deep inside of you.”
And he does. Pulling me in with his paws on my waist and pressing his cock as far in as it can go, I feel his warmth start to fill me up. One shot of cum, then two, then three. He trusts inside of me until the very end of his orgasm where he presses me up against the car. It’s so cool, but his body is so warm that I don’t care.
He rests his chin on my head. I breathe with him.
And when he’s ready, he pulls out. I feel the cum dripping out of me into my underwear as he steps back.
“That was excellent,” he says with a smile, putting his paw on my shoulder. I flip around to face him, sore all over. “You did such a good job, boy.”
“Thank you,” I pant. “Thank you.”
“In fact… you did so well… that I think you might be ready to take your test.”
“Oh!” I exclaim, trust back in the headspace of someone learning how to drive. “Really?”
“You’re ready,” he says.
“But I could always use a few more lessons, right?”
“Of course. I’ve always got a few more things to show you.”
I smile. “Should I drive us back?”
“Please, boy.”