Sex Club for Nerds and Geeks Ch. 07

I rolled to face her. "How about —"

"Like I said, only till nine." She paused, considering. "Sleep, I'll wake you up in plenty of time."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

*

Wendy's version of a wake-up call was sucking my cock to hardness, which she was well along in doing when I found out about it.

"Feeling okay?"

"Feeling fine," I said, and I brushed her curls affectionately. "You had quite an effect on me."

"Oh god," she said, "I am so sorry about that. I didn't mean —"

"Oh no, That was something I'll never experience again, and I'll always remember it." I ran the side of my fingers lightly across her cheek. "No, I mean this," and I spasmed my cock, "Waking up with you sucking me is really nice."

She resumed bobbing, with her eyes locked on mine. At times she would just hold my cockhead between her lips and tongue it. When she went down, it was all the way into her throat, and when she came up she used her tongue to slowly jack me.

I wasn't concentrating on holding off, but I didn't want to cum right then either. I was just going along as she took me close, then dropped off, then close, then off again.

"Fuck me, Carl, missionary, slowly," and she took my hand in hers and rolled onto her back.

I suspended myself over her and slid inside. Her shallow breathing caught as my pubic bone arrived at her clit. I rubbed against her and she moaned deeply from her chest. We kissed softly and fucked slowly, she doing little more than holding my shoulders and arching at me as I pushed into her, occasionally squeezing my cock with her pussy as I stroked.

But my excitement was building, I couldn't go on this way forever. "We're going to cum, Wendy, soon now," I said, softly.

"I know, let's step it up," she whispered back. She humped a little harder against me, at just the right time, to engage her clit.

We were closing in on our climaxes when she gripped my ass with her heels, making the pubic collision violent. "I'm gonna cum, Wendy, I can feel it."

"Me too, oh god, yes, yes," and she slammed herself into me and held me inside her as she swirled her hips, squeezing my cock.

I came, quietly for me. She came, more noisily, but quiet for her, too. I fell onto her after my first spurt, so I was pumping and cumming with my pelvis, no power, just short strokes.

Finally we rolled onto our sides and locked eyes.

"That was wonderful, I know it was wonderful, almost ethereal." I went soft and slid out. We lay there, panting, and even after we regained our breath we just lay beside each other, my hand on her belly, her hand on mine..

"I'm remembering something.

"He was sweet, a virgin like me. We got lucky when my parents went away for the weekend to get the summer house set up. He came over around noon on Saturday and we both knew what was going to happen, since we'd been closing in on it for a month.

"I had condoms and he'd gotten some too. After we had undressed ourselves, we got into my bed and I rolled one of mine onto him, but it was too big. We laughed and laughed! His were the right size and soon we were trying to get him inside me.

"Everything went wrong. Every time we tried he'd pull some pussy hair with him and it hurt, or he'd miss and get embarrassed. After four tries he went soft, so we gave up and just cuddled and fell asleep. Around two we woke up and decided to try again.

"I got some scissors and we trimmed my pussy back pretty far, but he couldn't get hard. We decided to got dressed and start all over again. As we made the bed we spread a towel in the right place, then walked downstairs and pretended he had just arrived.

"We sat in the living room and politely discussed something or another. I asked him if he wanted to see my room and he said 'sure.'

"I closed and locked the door and we faced each other at the foot of my bed. His cock was bulging his pants and I lost it. I yanked his zipper down. That set us both off. When we were naked I grabbed his cock and pulled him to me. He had the condom in his hand and pulled away so he could roll it on, then shoved me back, got between my legs and pushed, hard.

"God it hurt. But he was in. He was in a frenzy, pumping me. I was stunned! He came quickly, maybe five strokes. I didn't get much out of it.

"He apologized for everything, but within twenty minutes he was gone. I decided I would never do it with him again.

"I don't know why I'm thinking about this now. I haven't thought about him in a couple of years."

"It seems like it's sort of a mirror to what just happened. We both know we're parting, we'll never be lovers again."

"That's probably it. Hurting you the way I did —" I started to protest but she held up her hand — "means I can't ever go back to you."

"But friends?" I was hopeful. "Not like breaking-up-and-lying-about-eternal-friendship, but really friends?"

"Yes. I'd like that." And we kissed. And dozed.

I woke around 9:30, knowing that I really didn't have anything I had to do today, but that she did. She stirred.

"Shower?"

"Yeah, but I really do have to go. No hanky-panky."

We were dressing when I remembered the photos. I hit "print" and gave them to her.

"They're beautiful."

"They're you, both of them."

May I keep them?"

"Yes. Please."

*

Exams went really well. I pulled all my midterms up and got an A in four courses and a B in my weakest. I called my parents to tell them the good news and arranged for them to meet me at the bus station late Thursday afternoon.

On the bus, my cell beeped with a cryptic text from Julia: "Full Stop."

The first Google entry read "Full stop (British English) or period (American English) (sometimes point or dot) is the punctuation mark commonly placed at the end of sentences." I replied with a smiley face.

My eyes filled. What's this about? So she got her period. She's not pregnant. Of course not. She took care of that. Herself. She wanted me to know.

*

It was my 16-year-old sister Chrissy who met me at the bus station. She smiled tentatively as I humped my duffle bag and backpack off the bus.

"Mom had to work on some school stuff so she asked me to come get you." Mom was a principal at a high school in a nearby district, a demanding job. Even though the bus station was only twenty minutes away, she must have had to stay.

"So you've got your license?"

Chrissy beamed. "Yes! And I've already got 60 hours in the bank, including four on the interstate." When you had 100 parent-certified hours of road time and passed a second exam, the state let under-18s drive at night.

"Congratulations!" I kissed her, brother-like, on her cheek. She stepped back and looked me up and down.

"Oooooo, things have changed." I blushed.

On the ride home, Chrissy chattered on about grandma and her new husband's latest cruise, the high-school band's trip to the regional semi-finals (she plays trumpet), and a couple of my old crowd.

"The goth girl, what's-her-name, she dropped out of community college and's working at the 7-11. And Andy, the computer nerd, he's the part-time electronics section manager at Target. He cleans up pretty well." I'd always thought she had a small crush on Andy, who was two years younger than me.

At dinner I regaled mom, dad, and Chrissy with tales from my life as a dorm-room cleaner. "You would be amazed at how much junk kids have in their dorm rooms. One day we found a snake, two starving puppies, and a small meth lab."

"In the same room?!" asked dad.

"Oh no, different rooms." At Christmas I would have sneered "ob-vi-ous-ly."

"What happened?" Mom-the-administrator leaned into the conversation.

"The SPCA took the puppies and the snake, and the police staked out the lab and busted the three girls." Dad laughed and mom shot him a look. "Well, Helen, girls are bad too, nowadays."

The conversation veered to my summer plans. "This research project is really interesting. I'm doing the video of 150 interviews and then we'll computer-analyze them to see if there's a way to see if someone's telling the truth when we asked the personal questions."

"Sounds intrusive," dad probed.

"First we ask a lot of fact questions, then we slip in the personal stuff. If the expression and body language from the fact questions doesn't change, the theory is that that means the subject is answering truthfully on the personal questions. If it does change, then we think they're not being truthful."

"A lot of assumptions." Dad wasn't an engineer for nothing.

"Well, that's what research is for, right?"

After dinner I took my dufflebag and backpack up to my room. Mom had left it alone and it was the same old lair, dark. I opened the curtains, looking forward to the morning light. I emptied two years' worth of textbooks and notebooks into the bookcase, then lay down on my single bed.

Yeah, Chrissy, things really have changed. Six months ago I was surly with you and defensive with mom and dad's lame attempts at polite dinner conversation. I'm a better person for them now. Because I'm having sex? That's certainly part of it, but mostly because sex has helped me get a life. Or is it the other way around? Anyway, it would be really awkward fucking on this skinny bed.

"Can I talk to you?" It was Chrissy, leaning against the door frame.

"Sure. C'mon in." She spun my desk chair around and straddled it.

"Things good up there?"

"Things are very good. I'm getting a life."

"You're different. Got a girlfriend?"

"Not 'a' girlfriend, 'girl friends.' And guy friends. And doing things with people. And . . ."

"Sex?"

"That's pretty personal."

"You're going to spend the summer asking 150 complete strangers personal questions. I'm your sister."

"Close the door." She clicked it shut and re-straddled the chair.

"I'll be twenty in July. There are almost 16,000 students on campus, more than half of whom are girls. I take pictures, lots of them. I use a cloud storage site with six terabytes of space. A lot of the pictures are of girls."

She snorted. "You're not answering the question. For sure you've changed, I'm just not exactly sure how. You're much nicer, we saw that at dinner. So maybe it's just maturity, going away to college got you out of your shell. But I think you've got a girlfriend."

"I can't talk about my love life with my sister."

"Sure you can, you just aren't trying. I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

"YOU have a love life?"

"Of course I do. I took notes about you in high school. You were sullen, dorky, and pushed away anybody who wanted to get close. Even goth girl, what's-her-name, she liked you a lot, but you were oblivious, or hostile. You jerked off every single night, lots of times in the shower in the morning. Sometimes you cried yourself to sleep.

"Not me. I like people. My girlfriends and I are tight, I date, even mess around." She smiled, innocently. "Now that I have my license, dad lets me take him to the station and I have his car to drive to school."

"Love life," I reminded her.

"Yeah, well, okay, not sex, I mean not yet. But I've had boyfriends who tried real hard to get into my pants. A couple of us went to the Planned Parenthood clinic last month and got on the pill."

"But you're only 16!" I cried, protectively.

"You mean I'm already 16. Look, I swear half my class is doing it. Two of the girls have had pregnancy scares, and one of them was even on the pill. We talk about the best types of condoms. I surf a dozen porn sites regularly. I masturbate in the shower — that's the only positive thing I learned from you."

"Oh man I don't think I want to know all this," I said as my chest constricted.

"Well now you've heard about me. So dish."

"I can't. I mean, you're my sister."

She let out a big sigh. "Alright, I'll tell you what I think is going on. You were miserable your freshman year. You worked for Uncle Ted last summer and got a little social self-confidence. You went back to school, moved in with your roommate, what's-his-name —"

"Pete."

"— Pete, and he introduced you to someone. You fell head-over-heels for each other, spent a week in bed together, and still couldn't get enough. So you skipped spring break to be with her and she's why you're staying at school this summer, so you can live together. The job's just a cover. Am I right?"

"Partially."

"Which part?"

"My roommate's name is Pete."

"You're evading me, Carl. C'mon."

I took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Look, this is kind of embarrassing. You know more about how I felt in high school than I did."

"You're a guy."

"Which means?"

"In your case it means you didn't let emotions get to you, you push away potential friends, you bottle everything up. Finally, somebody broke through, and you grabbed her for dear life."

"Suppose I told you it was a 'he'?"

"I'd say you're full of shit."

"Because?"

"Because of how you kissed me at the bus station."

"Okay. I'm not gonna get specific." Another deep breath, exhale, deeply, slow, prolong not saying anything. "But yes, I've got a love life. God this is hard! I'm not used to talking like this."

"It's okay, c'mon, you're doing fine."

I blew out again. "I met a wonderful girl. We went on a date, had dinner, went to a movie, then went back to the apartment. She gave me my first blowjob, then fucked me silly till morning. She kissed me at breakfast and told me she'd had a good time. I see her sometimes and we're friends."

"Oh that is soooooo sad. I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be. I'm not all torn up about it. It was the most wonderful experience of my life." I paused for effect, then continued. "There have been other girls since."

Oh good! I don't want my big brother hurting."

"I'm not staying at school for a girl. This research project really is interesting. But I have gotten out of my shell, you're right about that. And god do I like sex!"

That was unsmart. "I mean, now that I'm in college."

"Ha! That's you, I'm me. We'll see how my junior year works out."

After lunch on Saturday, Chrissy drove me to the bus station. In the parking lot, waiting for departure time, we talked about things. She veered back to her love life.

"I think I'm going to do it this year." My stomach knotted, I probably turned four shades of pale.

"Oh don't look so shocked. Why shouldn't I?"

"You'll do it when you're ready. It's just that I had a place of my own, so I could take things easy. There was no stress about mom or dad catching us. Everything I've heard about doing it for the first time in the back seat of a car seems so, well, so . . ."

"Unromantic?"

"Yeah, I guess. Rushed. Sneaky. Awkward. My first time was great. We had time to be together, to do it a couple of times, to touch and play with each other's bodies." Whoa, tiger, way too candid. Tone it down. "I just can't imagine doing it in some of the ways I've heard about."

"Well, we'll see. I'm in no rush, nobody's gonna push me into anything."

"Have you considered asking mom to help you?"

"Eww! No! How could I? She'd freak out."

"She's probably seen a lot more stupid sex mistakes at her school than we can imagine. If you convinced her that it was going to happen anyway, maybe she'd work with you, help you find a way to do it right. I dunno, just a thought."

Chrissy kissed me. "You're sweet. Can we talk more about this sometime?"

"Sure, I'd love to." The bus honked. "Gotta go. I love you, Chris."

"I love you too, big bro. Bye."

*

The bus ride wiped me out and I slept till 10 the next morning. After cleaning out my inbox, I checked a bunch of Facebook friends.

Cindy was in Seattle, at the company where her sister works. Pam was walking in Crete. Carol hadn't posted anything in two weeks. Gene's construction job was going well and he was getting muscles and a tan.

Kenny had gotten a last-minute job at a boy scout camp and was thrilled because there was a girl scout camp across the lake.

Linda was frazzled. It sounded like D. C. and the job were overwhelming her. I emailed her a cheer-up note.

Wendy was in heaven. She and Helen were settled in Brooklyn and she was thriving on the workload. She stumbled across a shoot of Law and Order and was made an extra on the spot by the lighting guy. She had a date with him later in the week.

Margery got the grades she wanted but didn't have the syllabus for her class yet, so she can't prepare for it. "Ruth's?" I texted. "See ya" came back.

Karen's in charge of tech at a big summer theater in Vermont. "Shakespeare, Beckett, Brecht, and The Wiz!" she wrote. Pete's living in a furnished room in the town where he's interning at his uncle's law firm, a world away from Suzi. He's lonely.

*

By three-thirty there were just six of us at Ruth's house: Margery, me, Lisa, and George (club members), Frank (George's friend), and Carrie (a Margery introducee).

Ruth had laid out a small fruit plate, cookies, and soft drinks. We munched at the kitchen table, exchanging information about why we were still in town.

"You kept that job waiting tables at Literratica, Lisa?"

"Yeah. The tips are good, I need the money. But mostly I like being there because I get my writing noticed. I won the spring 'Ratty' for a poem I wrote. They're going to publish it in their fall annual."

"But it's a bar, right?" I asked.

"No. Well yes, actually, but it's more than a bar, it's the intellectual hangout and coffeehouse that everybody who's into literature around here goes to," she said proudly.

"It's got a reputation for launching new talent," she continued. "One winner of the 'Ratty' has had her book picked up by a major publisher and two other winners have had stories or poems published in little magazines."

"Well I'm tending bar at SOL," mock-boasted Carrie. Everyone but me hooted.

"Okay, I'm game. What's SOL?"

"You go to college here?" Margery arched an eyebrow.

"Sure, but I'm not a drinker, so I don't hang around bars."

"SOL isn't a real bar. They let anybody in. I mean, the under-18 crowd," snarked Lisa. "It's a juice bar with music, older dudes hitting on 12-year-olds and vice-versa."

"They still give their drinks those funny names?" asked Frank, pitching a softball.

"Yeah. The new one is the 'Lolita,' it's doing well," replied Carrie, ignoring Lisa's shot. "The head bartender thinks it's cute to titillate the teenyboppers with suggestive names. Actually, he thinks it's fun to play with the older dudes' heads, too," and she laughed.

Frank and George had gotten hired for the dorm-cleaning gang.

"If you're not going to be in the same room next year, you have to move all your stuff out of three of the dorm towers, to the storage cages they set up in the hockey arena and under the football stadium," said George.

"That way, the university can rent the empty rooms to the students who are here for the summer programs. They hired a large temporary crew of us to clean every room, wax every floor, and paint every wall that needs it, all in ten days."

"Hope you like surprises," I piped up. "Cindy and I did that during spring break. We found abandoned puppies, a big snake, and a meth lab."

"Otherwise, I don't have a job this summer," continued George. "Doesn't really matter. My parents always take this place up the woods and this year they want me and my sisters there all July and into August. It's a 'last time the whole family will be together' thing. Till then, I'm gonna hang out around the house, catch up on the reading I haven't done this year."

"The summer softball leagues on Cape Cod start in two weeks," said Frank. "I umpire there, my aunt and uncle own a bar in town."

"My prof has taken on too many responsibilities," said Margery. "She hired me as a teaching assistant, but I'm going to be doing way more than that.