Beauty and the Geek

My name is Rachel (or perhaps not). I am white, blonde, of medium height and slender body, with B-cup breasts (although I have nordic features, my buttocks stand out, like in many Latinas, although not too much). My family is middle-class with artistic-type careers and liberal minds. I was a party and disco girl with enough sexual experience with other young guys of the night scene, and I even had a discreet fling with a lesbian. In one way or another, this cheerful but intelligent attitude opened the doors for me into a new sales corporation. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: to coordinate a new sales system by Internet, although they would provide any phone support with live operators, so I had to settle down and become trustworthy and punctual. Unfortunately, other colleagues were content with a fixed schedule of 9am to 5pm (17:00), after all, they did not have much responsibility as part of the team, because, either they were married and/or with children, or they didn't want to abandon a style of relaxed life, from which I had to abstain due to demands of my profession. They assigned us a guy called George, a computer expert, who turned out to be the typical "nerd": skinny, somewhat short, unattractive face, unstylish haircut, and although he dressed tastefully and is clean, the proverb applies, which goes: "you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." At first, I avoided any relationship with him, as the rest of the work team did, beyond the strictly professional dealings.

I imagine that I earned the position due to my dynamic attitude, because as far as computers go, the only thing that I knew was how to use the common applications of text and office, and even how to surf the Web, but I don't understand the internal workings of the software nor the electronics of the machines; for that, we had the "guru," aside from another expert in security, in order to avoid the threats of identity theft and other frauds by Internet. There are also artists and graphic designers, in order to make our pages more attractive, and so they could sell better, besides accountants that made tables and charts of the sales projections, which allowed me to verify how the group kept within schedule of reaching the goal of the virtual store, in order to inform to the board of directors. These other members of the team did value his knowledge, but were inconvenienced when they had to ask him for advice, besides, they also knew computers, although less than he did. There were neither secretaries nor receptionists, since the use of the computer facilitated the productivity and the communication with the suppliers and the clientele is channeled to a "voice mailboxes" switchbox and the Internet, of course.

Certain day, at mid-morning, my computer crashed and it even shut off, and if I tried to reactivate it, it made weird beeps and the screen remained black. Neither I could move my work from that station to another, because I didn't have time to back up what I was doing, for this is done by the end of the day, and not every day. Not only did it annoy me, but it also frightened me, because there was a meeting scheduled in a few days, in order to report about our progress. The most obvious thing was call to the people who sold this computer to us, because I thought that our specialist could only program the data bases that merged the other members' output. Tech support could not assure me that they would fix my computer that same day, and much less, recover my work; now I was really worried: this would be the end of my professional career. Overcome by frustration, I began mumbling obscenities; I thought that I would die right then and there.

Due to the small office space where we worked, the cubicles are very close to each other, and for that reason, George heard me and found out about my predicament. He had to overcome his fear toward his immediate boss before approaching me. I wanted to ignore him, uncomfortable with his appearance and demeanor, even more with the prospect of owing him any favor, but I was already desperate, and then, he insisted, saying:

"Excuse me, Miss Rachel: I might know how to recover your work."

I was left with no choice but to allow him into my cubicle to take a shot at it. I didn't expect much from this busybody, because I believed that no matter how much he knew, he was out of his league with computer hardware. He was able to power on the computer, but not my operating system works, so we could not access nor copy my documents. He asked to speak with the computer store, and in an even more complicated vocabulary than that of the technicians, he narrowed it to a new hard drive, for he ruled out any other problem. He went out himself to get the part, and upon returning to the office, he also replaced it for me and then reformatted with the original CDs. Finally, he restored as many files as possible from the damaged disk, and thus he saved my life, that is, my day's work, without only a few minor changes.

The experience made me reevaluate my opinion about George, discovering a chivalry in him, almost an admirable gallantry, that moved me. But I noticed his ungraceful and ridiculous aspect again after solving the incident, and I didn't feel in the mood of thanking him, so we quietly went our separate ways to continue with our jobs. But upon arriving to my apartment at the end of the day, I had flashbacks of the incident, like a war veteran or a rape victim with post-traumatic syndrome, I even wept with remorse before falling asleep. The busy itinerary allowed me to bury the matter and justify my feelings toward him as mere gratitude.

Since my responsibilities included visiting the factories and obtaining lists and specifications of the products that we would sell, much work fell upon me, and I, sometimes, stayed late in the evening, with very little or no employees with whom share the task of updating the project data base. But the only one who always stayed around would be this "ugly guy." At the beginning, George only took to himself, tweaking and perfecting the programs, taking advantage of the peace and quiet of the after-hours with the empty office so that his ideas could flow better. Just having him there gave me the creeps, but little by little, we grew closer when some of his tasks had deal with mine. We agreed to help each other during the long hours to translate the output of the other employees as well as mine, and even those of the suppliers of the products to the language of the Internet, and in that professional atmosphere, I learned how to tolerate him. Also, it was preferable to address him when nobody could see us together, so my reputation as an attractive girl wouldn't get tarnished. But the deadline bore down on us and I had practically lost my social life, not only for the time that the job required of me, but also that no other thought crossed my mind aside from "the project." George's single-minded dedication inspired more perseverance in me, in order to conclude the work. If it were not because I gave the orders and he, humbly, incorporated them to the computers, it would seem that I became his secretary, for the effort that I put to learn how to work with him. And it was not that he made me a "geek," but rather he explained things to me in simple terms in order to could work harmoniously. That allowed me to better decide which tasks to assign to the rest of the team. Nearer to the delivery date, I did not allow any more excuses for those who didn't deign to devote more time to the company, because I put my foot down so that we accelerate the pace. Although grudgingly, everyone collaborated efficiently until we were able to process purchase orders with some days in advance.

Now everything went smoothly, and suddenly, there was no more pressure, and although we felt cheerful, the mental and physical exhaustion of the intensity of the project in so little time discouraged us from organizing much celebration. That same Friday, I felt bored and restless, because the sales practically are done by themselves, and I had already gone without contact with my former friends for too long. I let all the employees leave early, and after the few preparations in order to close, guess what? Georgy would be the last to leave.

At dusk, I went to eat at a fast-food restaurant, and either by coincidence or by destiny, I also found him there. I tried to avoid him in a typical fit of pretty-girl arrogance, but we ended up sharing a table; I knew then that it was destiny. I ordered salad, in order to keep my figure, and he had some low-fat chicken meal, but not exactly healthy. What more could one expect from a fast-food place?

The hunger gave way to sexual arousal, and George was the only man that was available. Armed with some condoms in my handbag, left over after previous encounters, I followed him to his apartment. This desire, or horniness, repressed during too long, took over me and I knocked on his door. He was very surprised when he saw me and he let me in with nervous politeness. The only excuse of which I could think was passing by and needing to go to his bathroom. I noticed that his apartment was in not much disorder, and that his furnishings were almost spartan. He did have certain computer parts lying around: some I did recognize, others I did not; I then understood why he was able to fix my computer. In some strange way, that revived my intent of having sex with George that night.

When I went to the hallway, I intercepted George there, I hugged him and began to kiss him passionately in the mouth, but he didn't know how to kiss back; I attributed that it to his inexperience and to the fact that I took him unaware. Even so, I "bit the bullet" and opened up my blouse and my bra. He asked me in disbelief:

"Do you really want to have sex with me?"

He stood frozen, unable to avert his gaze from my round white breasts, my quite wide rosy areolae and my pert nipples. He wasn't even able to fully close his mouth. Trying not to appear too horny, he raised his eyes a little, waiting for a sign to grant him access to such an erogenous zone. I held on to his waist while I arched my body backward, feeling his erection against my abdomen and his testicles almost inside my vagina. That, oh, so delicious warmth kept me focused in my sexual quest and I nodded, saying:

- Yes, George. I'm your bonus.

With a shy smile, more of relief that lust, he leaned his face toward mine, but only to caress my cheeks with his fingers and press his cheek to mine. I sucked one of his fingers, foreshadowing fellatio, and his erection felt hotter and more piercing. I sighed sensually, in order to entice him. George kissed my neck and my shoulders, from there, his hands moved to caress my arms; until he took my hands in order to kiss them very gentlemanly, while he led me to his bedroom. Once we got there, we helped undress each other. He began to caress my teats, weighing them and his fingers, were squeezing my globes lightly, his touch twitching, repressing the urge to squeeze hard. The expression of his face already reflected very intense emotions, fully in the sexual game. He moved his head toward my chest and after tracing my areolae with his tongue, he began licking and sucking my nipples, first, the right, and then, the left. He spent more than a minute in each a before going for the other one, and he revisited them often, and with his fingers, kept stimulating the one which he was not sucking; this must be his way of thanking me for rescuing him from virginity, nevertheless, he wasn't in a hurry to ride me, unlike the way other boys had treated me previously, and that flattered me. I could not believe that such a hideous guy could give so much pleasure; I even felt an orgasm. I was able to reach a condom inside my handbag and then tossed it to him, signaling that I now wanted him inside me, and he didn't waste an instant in order to put it on, then raise my thighs daintily, taking the opportunity to caress my pubis and maintain my excitement. He delineated my vulva with his fingers until some vaginal fluid dribbled from me, and then, he took some with which to rub his glans against my clitoris, still erect after my mammary orgasm, producing an electric sensation in me, and he aimed his member over my labia and penetrated me. He began with a slow rhythm, but the tremor in his hips told me that he struggled with an urge to pump me quickly. I embraced my boy, holding on to my last orgasm, and when the tingle reappeared, I reacted with an instinctive sway of my hips that encouraged him to press on. Although his penis is small, my vaginal contractions caused by the lingering pleasure made it feel larger. In the final shared orgasm, I felt more enjoyment that all the dances and the booze of my "past."

After recovering from our fleeting vortex of passion, he led me to the bathtub to freshen us up. I succumbed to my post-orgasmic exhaustion and I decided to spend the night next to a runt who became my most handsome movie star.

The following days, we woke up sucking each other in the 69 position; on Saturday, I on George, and on Sunday, he on me. I wrapped my lips on his head and kissed it tenderly, before taking it all the way into my mouth. His penis fit me very loosely, so I closed my lips around the base while I went up and down with my head, but that and my tongue motion made him spurt semen too quickly for my pleasure, so I made a mental note to teach him how to delay the ejaculation. But on the other side, he didn't want to waste this opportunity to find love in me, so he bravely held on to suck my sex without stopping. He pressed his lips along mine, and he then licked from my clitoris to my perineum. For the final touch, he sucked my clitoris the way he did to my nipples and I did to his manhood. My movements were as if my clitoris were a penis with which I fucked him, and I shook so violently that he had to grab me by the buttocks in order to stay in position. All that got me deliciously dizzy, and to make matters worse, I rocked my tits on his abdomen in order to get more pleasure through my nipples. The orgasm that I got "recharged my batteries" for a full day of sexual exploration.

We didn't do much during that couple of days in his apartment, apart from having a lot of sex, and sometimes, eating a little and washing us occasionally (of which we took advantage for a session of wet caresses while we shared a bath). We even remained naked the whole time until I went home. George always worried that I would accuse him of sexual harassment later on, so he didn't dare to ask for any act from me, so I led him on all the time, reinforcing my power trip over him as boss and employee or teacher and student.

After breakfast, we brushed our teeth and he shaved in order to teach him how to kiss my lips better. It was paradoxical that he gave such good oral sex, but mouth-to-mouth, he was so clumsy. That made me understand that George is brilliant and tender, but nobody before had given him the opportunity to lavish so much love that he kept in his soul. I took his cheeks in my hands and I indicated him to take me the same way. We brought our faces nearer, hardly touching our lips, and I extended mine to flicker his upper lip, in order to demonstrate how he should do it. Then we repeated with the lower lips, until he would imitate me perfectly. Then, I slowly leaned my head to a side in order to guide him to line up, in order to touch both our lips at the same time without bumping with our teeth. When we progressed to kiss with open mouths, the intense pleasure knocked him a little out of sync, but I reacted on time in order to guide him in the art of the kiss. That day, we worked only on our lips, avoiding the tongues, until he did well and it felt nice.

At mid-morning, we had a session in which George penetrated me, and when he grew close to orgasm, I pulled him out of me, in order to put a brake on his urge to ejaculate. I sat down on his thighs in the sofa and kissed his lips, cheeks, forehead, neck and nipples to reward him for his technique and his patience. Then, I met him face-to-face and he reached for my breasts hanging in front of him in order to knead them and press his thumbs against my nipples, and also sweep them from side to side, like the windshield wipers of a car. My flowing wetness urged me to put him inside me, so I sheathed his penis, placed his hands under my armpits and I held onto his shoulders and I moved my body toward his chest in order to align my vagina with his manhood. I descended slowly in order to gobble it, but since he doesn't have that much in that department, I felt a little disappointed again when I already had it inside. I had to begin with short movements so that his penis would not fall out of me and I didn't injure it by crushing it with my body upon lowering. I demanded from him an early warning when he felt close to climax, so that I could stop on the up stroke with him almost completely out. I grasped his glans with my labia, which kept me stimulated. On my down stroke, I took advantage of being able to rub my labia and my clitoris against his hip bone, so I could derive so much pleasure that the walls of my vagina contracted, adjusting to his size and making his penile head hit my G-spot. The enhanced enjoyment made me go up and down frantically, exploding together with happiness, then I collapsed on his tiny chest. He allowed me to rest like that for a while, because having me against him like that did wonders to his bruised self-esteem. When he could not bear my weight any longer, he took me by my arms in order to pull me up from the insertion and turned me around to drop me limply by his side.

After a light lunch, we sat down in the bed, face-to-face, in order to calmly masturbate each other, always practicing George's ejaculatory control and also showing him how to stimulate my G-spot. The game consisted of bringing him close to orgasm and quickly backing off, while he stimulated my clitoris a little, and he carefully inserted his index or middle finger in my vagina, and with his tip toward my front, probed something that should swell near my pelvic bone. Mine is not exactly to the center, but a little to the left, so he had to do several sweeping movements, fondling my clitoris with the thumb of the same hand or with the other, until he could find it. Then he released my clit to fully explore that spot which has inspired legends in recent times. When he made contact, it was marvelous. That thing grew and the pleasure became unbearable. I held on to his shoulders for dear life to withstand an earth-shattering shudder. Due to my lesbic experience, I already knew about the apparent urge to urinate and I didn't fight against it, I even bore down so as to defecate, so with a noisy throe, I ejaculated on his hand, his arm and all of his body, because I shook in an almost epileptic tantrum, falling backwards and narrowly missed crashing against the floor. I blacked out, unaware of how much it lasted or how it ended. When I came back to my senses, I realized that, I don't know whether by mischief or from the orgasm that I inspired in him, he also discharged his semen on my face and my chest, like in the porn movies. I guess that he took advantage of my fainting in order to rub his penis between my cleavage: his only bold act thus far. Then we decided to load some clothes in the washing machine; mine went along with the sheets, in order to wear clean clothes when the time came for me to return home. We spent the evening, having a quiet dinner, caressing each other, kissing and bathing together before going to sleep.

Sunday went likewise, but upon kissing in the morning, I taught him the French kiss (which the French people disown), i. e., touching each other's tongues, playfully intertwining them and also sticking them into each other's mouths, again, being careful with the teeth. The intensity of these sensations incited George to penetrate me with barely enough warning to put on the "rubber".