Helping Harry Pass

Harry wasn't usually the nervous type, but something about test-taking brought out the sweatiest version of him. It was the dead of winter, and sweat was pouring down his back as he mulled over the first question on the midterm. Each question after that was even more nerve-filled, until finally he reached the end of the test. Harry was immediately relieved, until he looked around and saw that everyone else was still hard at work. Had he over-simplified a question or two?

He hadn't been sure about any of his answers, and he became even less sure as he set his paper down on his teacher's desk. She looked up to acknowledge him, pressing her seemingly harsh green eyes against his, before nodding for him to go and sit back down.

From his seat, he watched her grade his paper with a poker face in place. Ten minutes passed and no one else had brought up their test yet, and Harry started to sweat even more. He had known the answers to the questions, but he had completely blanked while taking the test. He knew, as his professor looked up, and beckoned for him to approach her desk, that he had utterly failed the midterm.

She turned his paper around once he stood in front of her, and at the top in red was a bit fat 'D.'

She circled it twice right in front of him.

"This is me being generous," she stressed, bringing her glasses down from her nose to look into his eyes.

"Harry, you've answered these questions before perfectly during class discussions. What went wrong here?"

Her voice was low so that only he could hear, being considerate of his feelings and the test-takers' concentration.

"I just--"

He knew what he wanted to say, what the truth was, but he also didn't want to sound stupid. Sighing and feeling his face burn, Harry said: "I just don't do well on tests, and it's the midterm so I--I just put too much pressure on myself I guess. Worked against myself."

His professor nodded with understanding, Harry's manner of test-taking wasn't new to her, but he had never failed so drastically. His slip-ups had been simple little flubs, clearly he knew the right way of figuring it all out.

"I'll tell you what," she said, "I can't have one of my best students failing their midterm like this, so we'll schedule a solo retake. It'll be during my office hours tomorrow, but I'll send out a notice and we'll have the space to ourselves so that you can concentrate. Okay?"

Her solution was exactly why Harry loved her class so much, she was always trying to accommodate her students; she would extend due dates, accept late assignments still, and now this. Harry smiled with relief, "Yes...thanks so much, Professor. I'll be there."

"Great," she smiled back broadly, "I'll see you tomorrow then, enjoy your night and study if you have to."

He nodded, feeling a little lighter on his feet as he grabbed his backpack to leave for the day. Tomorrow, he wouldn't fail again, he couldn't fail again.

______

Harry had put too much pressure on himself overnight, so when he got to his professor's office, his stomach was in knots. If he failed again when his professor had so clearly gone out of her way to help him, not only would he be disappointing her, but he would be at risk of flunking her class.

He knocked on the cherrywood door to her office and she called out softly: "Come on in."

He had never been to her office before, but he took note of the two blue armchairs she had placed in front of a tall table, and the stock art on her walls. There was no hint of a life outside of college, besides a picture frame that was facing away from him. Harry decided to sit down instead of examining her decor anyway, as it wasn't helping with the anxiety he already felt.

"Harry, good to see you today," his professor breathed out, "I just wanted to say, before you start, that I want you to feel as comfortable as you possibly can and I'm here to help you with that. You're a brilliant student, you're always on time, you never miss a class, and I really don't think that grade was representative of your capability. It's still a timed test so you'll only have two hours to complete it, but just do your best."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said, feeling grateful although his nerves were already flared up.

His professor could tell that he was nervous again, but she told herself that she wouldn't resort to drastic measures to make sure that he passed just yet. So, while Harry tested, she busied herself by grading the rest of the tests from the day before.

Harry was an hour in when anxiety started to get the best of him again. The questions were beginning to swim in front of his eyes, and he jostled his leg up and down uncontrollably. His professor looked up, hearing his leg bouncing on the floor, and she could see the sweat that covered his forehead. The poor boy was completely overwhelmed by material that he already knew, and she couldn't for the life of her let him fail again.

"Harry..." she said softly, lightly scolding him, "Put your pencil down."

He listened, blushing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He couldn't help it, there was just so much tension trapped inside of his body.

"What's wrong?" She questioned him with an open tone, gently urging him to confide in her.

"I'm sorry," Harry groaned ashamedly and buried his face in his hands, "I just can't--focus--I don't know why."

"That's alright," she soothed, already seeing that he was mentally berating himself, and that he was.

Harry just couldn't understand why he was such an idiot under pressure, it was like being under a spell of sweat, nerves, and overthinking--he was just stuck in a loop of shooting himself in the foot.

"Harry--" his professor had been calling him for a few seconds now, and seeing that he was deep inside of his thoughts, she had stood up to come around to his side of the table.

"Harry--" she pressed again, and he looked up at her with something like torture in his eyes. His professor had known how she could help him the moment that she told him to come to her office for the retake. She told herself that she wasn't being leery by having the thought of helping in...that...way, and that scientifically speaking: an orgasm would bring a calm clarity to him.

He wasn't even hard yet, but she knew that she could easily arouse him. It was against ethics, an offense that could lose her, her job, but she would take the chance and hope for the best.

She turned away from him to lock the door to her office, and feeling his eyes burn into her back, she persisted with her plan.

Harry didn't know why his professor had gotten up, or locked the door, but there was something different that charged the air--something that felt inappropriate, but maybe he was just overthinking again.

When she turned back around after locking the door, her eyes were noticeably lower, lustier.

"Unzip your pants, Harry."

He didn't know if he had heard her correctly, but he knew that unless he was living in a simulation, she had said exactly what he thought he heard.

She repeated herself, driving it all the way home:

"Unzip your pants, Harry. We're going to figure this out for you, let me get rid of some of that tension."

Harry didn't know if he should've protested, but he also knew that not unzipping his pants would mean that he would probably fail the midterm again, and make things weird between himself and his professor. Plus, his cock had started to stir the first time she gave him the command, and now blood was slowly rushing to his shaft.

His professor wasn't a bad-looking woman at all, she was blonde with hair that touched her collarbone, and she wore square-rimmed reading glasses. Her face was heart-shaped, and she had petite features that made her look younger than she was. He always liked her eyes, as he said before, they were a therapeutic blue that comforted him even then as she waited for him to unzip his pants.

It was her eyes that made him trust her enough to listen; he reached down, shaking, and unzipped his pants. The sound of his metal zipper sliding down ripped through the tense air. Harry kept his jittery eyes on his professor, waiting for further instruction.

His professor couldn't believe he had actually listened, and she could see him growing insistently against his descrip briefs. She had started to salivate as she thought about tasting him, but she urged herself to calm down as none of this was meant to be for her own pleasure. It was only meant to relieve tension, though she couldn't evade the hotness of the scenario before her. He was young, and clearly virile with how quickly his cock had hardened--it was hard to ignore the dull thud of pleasure against her center, but she forced herself to put her student first.

"Good job, Harry..." she praised him softly, while she also began to unbutton her blouse to give him something to look at.

Harry breathed heavily as his professor undid her shirt, before showing him what laid beneath it: her pale, bulging breasts. She was well-endowed, which he already knew, and her nipples hardened as soon as the air touched them. When just his cock was out, it felt incriminating, but now the playing field was even and he could feel his arousal peaking. She had very pretty tits, a little aged, but not unlike a pornstar's.

"Do you like them?" She asked, brushing her fingertips across her breasts. Harry nodded twice, three times maybe, and she laughed seductively. It was a way that Harry had never heard her laugh before, and it filled his cock up with liquid heat.

His professor had laughed from sheer flattery. God, it had been a while since a man of any age looked at her with such unmitigated lust. Just that look had caused a pool of warmth to spill into her panties, a pool she would have to neglect for now as she catered to her student.

She got to her knees, willingly exhibiting that girlish pose that men so adored when having their cock played with. With the way that Harry was looking at her, she could discern that he would be quick to finish.

"Take it out completely," she said, "So that I can please you."

His hands were shaking as he pulled himself out and into view. Harry didn't know how long he would last, but he felt like if she even breathed on him, he would explode. His cock bobbed back and forth as his professor leaned her head down while looking up at him, and with a soft, near-soundless suckle, took his tip into her mouth.

His professor had the urge to stuff her hand into her panties at just the taste of her student's cock, it was earthy and filled with pheromones that called to a carnal part of her. She hadn't realized how sexually starved she was until she started, but feeling his smooth, weighty cock in her hand and sampling that erotic flavor was causing her to rub her thighs together.

Harry groaned softly at that first, moist suckle from his professor--even though she was just sucking his tip, the sensation from that shot down his entire length. Her eyes were just so kind and understanding too; he could see lust there, but she seemed adamant on pleasing him before anything else. She always had a way of making him feel special, and now more than ever, he knew that he was a favorite of hers.

"Professor," he groaned, and she didn't shush him as her rosy mouth opened wider to take in the rest of his length. Her throat was a swaddle, cocooning him so perfectly he could have burst into thousands of pieces.

His professor sighed pleasurably with her student's cock in her mouth. She had a penchant for deep-throating that was a cut above the rest, and she started to coast him in and out of her mouth slowly--building up to an imminent climax.

"G-goooood," he groaned without control while his professor hummed with his cock in her throat. Her hands began to work next, she palmed both of his balls at once and rolled them around as she continued to suck Harry's cock.

Harry was already close to coming, so close he could feel it pushing its way up--the problem was, he didn't know if it would be appropriate to come on his professor's face. Of course, she was right there with him still inside of her mouth, but he didn't want to surprise her.

"Can I--" he started to ask for permission, but his professor already knew what he planned on asking, she could feel him throbbing every few seconds.

"You can come wherever you want, Harry, I just want you to pass this test," she murmured, slapping his cock against her lips before she took him back in so deep that she had to fight a gag.

With her hand wrapped around his base to hold him steady, his professor was only allowed a few more drawn-out gargles before he couldn't hold it back anymore. Her eyes closed as his cum ricocheted against her tonsils, before quickly filling up her entire mouth until it leaked from the corners. She had forgotten how much cum a young man could release, but she hadn't realized just how much she missed the heady taste of semen.

She chugged his seed, stroking and sucking while she did until his cock limpened.

Harry groaned nonsense as stars crossed his vision while his climax shattered through his whole body. His ears were ringing, and his professor's mouth was a lush vice that wouldn't let up. There was something so pleasing about hearing her gargle his seed as too much of it was funneled into her mouth, and Harry trembled even more at being overstimulated.

After he came, and couldn't release any more cum, his professor pulled his limpened shaft out of her mouth. The loss of her warm throat was stark, but quickly solved when she nearly tucked him back into his briefs. She even pulled his pants back up for him, nurturing him through and through.

Quietly, she got up and sat back at her desk. Then, she realized her breasts were still out and she hurriedly put them away.

"Harry," she started, "Are you ready to take the test now?"

And Harry could attest to the fact that she was right: the tension he had before had mellowed out since he had came, and his mind felt clear and free.

He could focus.

"I'm ready," he said, and he passed with flying colors.

Needless to say, his professor made a point of ensuring that his mind was always clear to think, and Harry vowed that he would take her next course again the following semester.