Comic Book Nerd

I Own a Magical Blowjob School

I'm just a regular guy. Not regular in every respect. Teachers in school used to say that I was bright but I didn't apply myself. A lot of my friends went on to elite universities, but I never saw the point. For years, I've worked in a comic book store during the day, and I think I'm really lucky to spend my day debating whether Spider Man could defeat Wolverine.

So, regular guy, lacks ambition. Lives in a world surrounded by fantasy.

One more thing. I have a dick that, let's just say is impressive. At 6'2", I have hands that can palm a basketball. When fully erect, I can wrap both of my hands around my dick from the base on up, and the head still sticks out.

It's a blessing and a curse. Lots of women are curious to try it out once, some twice. But nobody considers it boyfriend dick. The most regular partners I've had have been married women, with and without their husband's blessing. I've even had partners refer me to friends like 'Hey, try this out."

For all that, I've never had a woman be able to get half of it in her mouth. Anal? Forget it. I've had something like 35 partners, but I've probably had less sex than my friends that married their high school sweethearts, and I get laid less than the ones who have already had babies.

So, comic book nerd with a big dick who jerks off, a lot. Mostly to comic book porn because, well, I work in a comic book store.

That's me in a nutshell. On to the story about how I came to own a school that teaches women how to give better blowjobs. Strap yourself in, because this story covers everything from the nature of reality to the existence of free will.

I was walking down the street when I see a guy, head down on his phone, walking in front of a moving bus.

I did something wholly out of character. So often, I'm a bit of a spectator in the game of life. A slightly sarcastic a-hole. I'm more content telling a wild story about something I saw happen than I am to get involved. You've seen the movie Clerks? My. Whole. Personality.

Back to the guy about to get creamed by the bus. I run. I tackle him.

And just like that, I'm a hero.

Only, I don't come out unscathed. One broken leg and a case of bruised ribs later, I spend a couple of days in the hospital. I was interviewed by reporters for all three TV stations in my town, and the local newspaper. My dick was a bit of a curiousity among the nurses. Hard to tell if sponge-baths usually happen twice per day. I don't think they're really necessary. But none of them actually pulled the trigger and, you know, pulled my trigger.

Just before I was set to leave, the man I pushed out of the way of the bus appeared in my hospital room.

His name was Mark, and, after some preliminaries I don't really recall, he dropped the hammer.

"You aren't going to really believe me right now, and that's a shame, because stories have been told about my kind for millennia. I think the closest approximation for what I am is a genie."

"A genie huh?" I said. "Seems..... implausible."

"I know. What I can do for you is grant you one wish. Specifically, I can grant you one sex related wish, because my powers are limited to sex."

"Ok. Seems extra implausible. Let's say I believe you. Why just one with. Why not three"

"The stories with the three wishes are true, but in those cases, the finders freed genies from unbreakable prisons in the midst of a war between good and evil on a transdimensional scale."

"Okay. So were those genies good or evil?"

"Yes," he replied. "It's complicated."

"But if I saved your life, why wouldn't I get more wishes? Surely being imprisoned in a lamp is better than being dead," I said.

"I see your years of debating Star Trek trivia have served you well," Mark said. "I tell you that you can have just about anything in the world, and you debate the details of magical mechanics."

Mark was smiling, and I could tell he was clearly enjoying this.

Mark continued. "You didn't really save my life. I'm not quite immortal. One day I will die, but that was not the day. You were destined to intervene, and I was never in any real danger. Anyway, so many people have made wishes without believing these wishes were real. I appreciate your questioning."

"Are you sure you aren't just a crazy guy that was trying to kill yourself?," I replied. "Because in my experience, that seems like the more likely answer."

"Can you prove you are a genie?," I asked.

"Years of debating the rules of magic in a strip mall comic book store have brought you to this point," Mark said. "No, I can't prove it without granting your wish. But before you speak, I would advise you to ask lots of questions before choosing. Lots of men have asked for things that didn't really give them happiness. Men who have asked for the world's biggest dick have become a particularly unhappy lot. As you can gather from your experience, not a lot of women can handle things of that size. About half of men who have asked for their wives to have higher sex drives have become happier, but the other half didn't really have the sex drive to match. Their marriages dissolved as their wives became more and more frustrated with them."

"Okay, I said. "What about other sex superpowers? Addictive cum?"

"Ah. A favorite of the pornographic comic book genre. That one can be particularly tragic unless you plan on being monogomous. Watching one addict harm another to get a taste of that sweet sweet baby batter is unpleasant," Mark said. "And the partners in those scenarios tend to become a bit..... focused on certain things. In the end, the men end up "lonely in marriage."

"What about pheremones, or the becoming the world's most attractive man," I asked.

"Ah, another one that sounds good that leads to unintended consequences," Mark said. "The men who have chosen this have been unable to hold jobs as the women constantly distract the operations of the business. Many lose all male friends, because their partners hop into bed at the first chance, or at least try to hop into bed. Either way, cheating and attempted cheating aren't great relationship builders. Most men who have chosen this find lucrative work as gigolos, but they are lonely. Very high suicide rate comes with that one."

"So the ultimate sex superhero power has to come with some sort of way to control the environment," I said. "What about mind control?"

"A tricky one," Mark replied. "Mind control isn't really possible. You can have the power to compel a woman to perform sexual acts, but she won't necessarily like it. Ultimately, it is rape, because while you can control the body, you cannot control the mind. For a small subset of men, this is a bonus. Those men, ultimately, die in violent circumstances at higher than average rates -- revenge is a real concept. Destiny is a fickle thing."

"The mind," Mark said, "cannot be controlled."

"But why? It seems like if all things are possible, then all things are possible. I should be able to make a woman want to have sex with me when I compel her," I said.

"In over a thousand years, I have not been asked this question," Mark said. "And for that, I'm adding another wish to your list. Now, onto the explanation. It has to do with the nature of the universe. How is it that we believe we have free will, but we also have a destiny?

"It turns out that the universe is both something and nothing. It is also everything. All things are possible, and existence is an illusion. It's complicated, but think of it this way: every time you make a decision, another universe is made where you make the opposite decision. Everything must happen, but that makes it all meaningless. In an infinite number of universes, there is a mosquito on your ankle right now. And in an infinite number of universes, there is no mosquito, just as the mosquito is three nano-meters to the left in an infinite number of universes. But if all things must happen, are we really making decisions?

I know this is hard to understand. Let's just say that cause and effect as you see them don't really exist. Your mind, however, it cannot be controlled, and is, at its core, a machine that makes meaning. Because you must have free will, otherwise, there's no meaning to any of it. The world is both meaningful and meaningless. There is destiny and free will.

"Okay, that doesn't really make sense. But it seems like I could ask for something mind control adjacent."

"You could compel a woman to suck your dick," Mark said, "and you could create a universe in which that woman wants to suck your dick."

"I just don't see the difference," I said.

"There's a godhead's worth of difference," Mark said. "The biggest difference is that I don't have to let you get murdered by a jealous husband or a ravaged woman in an infinite number of universes."

"Right, but why can't I do that with mind control? It seems like in an infinite number of universes, the mind controlee would want to be controlled."

"Yes. And in an infinite number of universes, the mind controller and their victim are destined to have sex without the use of mind control. I agree, it's a paradox. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to grant this wish, this, mind-control adjacent, infinite universe wish. But there will be a few limits. You won't be able to just walk up to a woman order her around, but if you can identify women that are pre-disposed to do so, then have at it. You'll meet women that have limits. You'll meet women that will throw their drink in your face. But you'll also meet women that will be highly susceptible to your suggestions that that massive schlong of your really will fit up their asses."

"Shouldn't I think about this? What if I want to.... you know, just heal my body?"

"Too late."

"But I get a second wish, right?"

"Sure."

"Okay, I want to be healed," I said. "Completely."

In a flash, a man dressed as Superman popped into my room. He disappeared just a second later. More randomness? I wondered? But then, I no longer felt pain. I knew I could walk again. And just as that realization entered my mind, another thought entered my mind.

And I knew, at that moment, without a shadow of a doubt, that genies were real. And everything he was telling me was the truth.

"I thought you could only grant sex wishes," I said.

"You're right. I couldn't heal you myself, but that one owed me a favor. I used one of the wishes he granted me to heal you."

"So why was he dressed as Superman?"

"In an infinite number of universes, Superman is real. But it's really taxing on the machinery of the universe to have superheros. So most are just regular genies doing the whole cosplay thing."

"Mind.... blown."

Just then, a nurse entered the room. It was, it seems, time for a sponge bath. The nurse was one that I'd had before. A dark brunette, Mediterranean, with a good set of tits straining her scrubs. Tattoos down the sleeves of her arms, and a lingering hand when she approached my dick. She never touched, but I always suspected she was thinking about it.

"She can't see me," Mark said.

"I'm here to get you cleaned up," she said.

"I've already had one today," I replied.

"Well, clean could always be cleaner. And besides, you are a hero."

As she washed me, I could feel myself getting hard, then harder. The towel the nurse used to cover my nether regions rose, a sight that did not go unnoticed by the nurse.

As her hand moved down my chest, and my abdomen, I felt something... a shift.

"Remember," Mark said. "She won't do anything that she would NEVER do, but you can suggest some things that she hasn't ruled out."

I thought for a moment. What would suffice? A command? A suggestion?

Let's go with suggestion.

"Could you, uh, go a little lower?" I asked.

"That wouldn't be....," she trailed off, gazing at the outlines of my swelling member.

"Have you thought about it?" I asked.

"Yessss," she whispered. "But I could lose my job."

"It's really hard right now," I told her.

"It's really big," she replied.

"You want to feel it," I said. Both a command and a suggestion. "Nobody will find out."

Her warm hand moved down at a slow pace.

"The machinery of her mind is turning," Mark said. "She's weighing the pros and cons. It's a done deal, as far as the universe is concerned, but inside, she's still choosing."

Her warm hand wrapped around my cock, and she gasped. Then she lowered her opened mouth over throbbing unit.

"It feels really good," I told her. She got more of it in than I would have expected, and she used her tongue on the bundle of nerves below the head. She let her drool lubricate the base as her hand began pumping up and down.

A few strands of her dark hair had fallen from here pony tail, and I watched her head lips wrapped around my dick through the a partially obstructed view.

"I want to come in your mouth," I told her. She nodded yes, picking up the pace, no doubt because she worried about being caught. She needn't have worried. My time in the hospital had been spent recuperating, and I hadn't pulled my meat in days. I began tensing, and signal she understood well as she impaled her mouth deeper and deeper.

What the hell, I thought. I pushed her head, until I heard that too-familiar 'gurk' sound, and I exploded. It felt good.

She slowly traced her lips up my shaft, removing, I guess, any trace of semen from it, and thus evidence. She caught her breath slowly.

"I've never done that before," she said.

"You seemed experienced to me," I told her.

"With a patient, I mean. I just felt like I had to. That I didn't want to do anything else," she said.

"I could return the favor, if you want."

"Fuck I'm so horny right now. But no. There's nothing I can do about it right now. I don't even really know your name."

I was discharged a few hours later. I never did return the favor. I didn't know her name either.

I took an Uber home, thinking intently on ways to use my powers for my own twisted demands. Mark, the genie, told me that some women would never, ever fall prey to the power of my suggestion. Was it a numbers game? Could I proposition a certain number of women on the street each day? What percentage of women would be open to that sort of thing? Was it more like my experience with the nurse? I felt like the whole sponge bath thing opened the door to suggestion. But how could I put myself in situations that left women more open to suggestion?

"Hey," I said to my driver. "Do you like driving people around? I bet you get a lot of crazies."

"Driving for Uber is just peaches," he looked at me. "No man, it sucks. The money sucks, the people suck, and it's just a grind. But hey, I get to make my own hours."

"You ever get propositioned by women?" I asked, "maybe driving home from the clubs?"

"I dunno man, that's a pretty fast way to get arrested for rape. I mean, if they're drunk enough to fuck a random Uber driver, are they really in control of their faculties?"

Point made. But you, dear reader, probably know where this was going. I reasoned that maybe my power was a numbers game. That if I asked enough women, a few would fuck me.

I signed up for Uber. I was fired for propositioning passengers within the hour.

Mark popped back into my life.

"Yeah," he said, kinda sarcastically, with a faux bit of empathy. "The numbers game isn't the surest bet."

"There's always Lyft," I said.

He laughed. Then he was gone again.

Still, I wasn't striking out all the time. On a late night trip to the laundry room in my building, I took the risk of removing my pants, to throw my dirty underwear into the washer, just as an older, divorced milf walked in. A bottle blond with dark roots showing.. Her boobs were full and heavy behind the thick straps of a summery A-frame dress that showed no cleavage, but left little to the imagine. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra.

I quickly tried to jump back into my pants, only to fall over.

"Whoa there with that thing," she laughed as my dick slapped my thigh. "You can shoot someone's eye out."

Ok. She didn't run away.

"It's available, if you're interested," I smirked.

She let the thought turn over in her mind.

"Sure," she said. "It's been a while."

"My place or yours?" I asked.

"How 'bout right here?"

Thank heavens for shameless middle-aged ladies. She hopped on the jittering washing machine as I lifted her dress. No panties either -- my tongue found her clit quickly, her body a spin cycle-induced vibrator. She came fast, and wasn't quiet about it. I grabbed a step-stool to bring my dick to top-of-the-washing-machine height, and then rammed the whole thing home. She was slick, super wet. And I was betting she'd been around the block before. Many women would howl in pain if they took me in one thrust, so this was a gamble. It paid off. Her pussy clenched in a second orgasm, and her abs crunched as she brought her teeth to my shoulders. I emptied my swollen load into her.

"Would you mind cleaning me up? My undies are in the washer and I don't want to get my shorts dirty." I said.

She got on her knees and licked me, from the base to the tip. I was hard again. We went for round two in my apartment. I took her doggy style on my couch as she screamed into a pillow.

Her name was was Flo. And in this reality, she was destined to come over to my apartment a few nights a week for sex that got progressively more depraved. I began to learn the boundaries of whatever this power was that Mark the sex genie granted. It was a power that sat at the intersection of supernatural suggestibility and mind control and the multi-verse. Flo wasn't always prepared to service me like a mindless automaton. But I learned pretty quickly that she would do whatever I wanted if I took things step by step. Her blow jobs were the normal type -- a couple of inches in her mouth and a furiously pumping hand. Push her head a little. Then a little more. She gagged and stopped to catch her breath.

"That feels so good," I told her. "You want me to feel good. Just relax. It's so fucking sexy when you try your hardest."

She resumed. I pushed a little more.

"Getting it all in is going to make you feel so good," I told her. "The deeper you go, the hornier you get. This might make you come."

In the days that followed. Flo began ignoring her body's own protestations, gulping and swallowing my giant dick in an attempt to wrap her lips around the base. The black eyeliner she wore would sometimes streak, and her heavy tits would heave.

"You trust me, right?" I asked.

"I guess," she said.

"I'm going to make two new rules for you, to encourage you."

The first rule was simple. No orgasms for her until her nose could touch my abdomen. And rule number two -- she'd wear a remote control vibrator, one that I controlled, whenever she was around me.

Her progress improved markedly from there. She used to come easily, but the suggestion that she could not come, combined with the remote control vibrator, kept her on a jagged precipice of lust. She desperately needed release, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

"This gets me so fucking hot," she said once as she tried to catch her breath. "I don't know why, but I've never wanted to suck a dick more than this."

It took about a week, but eventually she made it. When her nose finally touched my abdomen, the orgasm it unleashed in her shook her entire body and her breathless. I held her head in place and fucked her stretched jaw, using her as she struggled to time her breaths to my thrusts. When I was finally done ejaculating into her throat, she laid her head on my lap like a kitten and just mouthed the word "Wow."

While my time with Flo was fun, I got restless with her. With my power came the potential for immense variety. I wanted women of all shapes and sizes. Big tits, little tits. Waifish models and thicc milfs. I wanted redheads, and blondes. And asians, and Blacks. And big-assed Latina women. I wanted married women, and single women. I wanted to fuck hotwives and make videos with titles like "Bull fucks wife so hard, she'll never let husband touch her again." I wanted women that were bisexual. And I wanted submissive little cum dumpsters that needed discipline. This train of thought confirmed it for me as well. I watched too much porn. But it didn't really matter, because my power gave me the ability to live a porn inspired life.