Sex Club for Nerds and Geeks Ch. 07

"She's got a book almost done, on a prairie photographer from the 1920s in South Dakota who published her pictures exclusively on postcards. She's overdue at the university press with the manuscript and has to finish it this summer, or else.

"And she's nearly overdue on two journal articles and a chapter in an anthology. I think I'm going to be doing research as well as teaching. I am going to be one busy girl."

"I am taking a vacation," Ruth said matter-of-factly. Margery and I exchanged startled looks, since we'd never heard her say anything about her personal life.

"Kewl! Where you going?" asked George.

" 'The Great Rivers of Europe.' It's a river cruise and six of us are going together. It'll be good food, lots of museums in twelve cities, no Wi-Fi or cell phones. I'll be away for four weeks."

We broke up around five-thirty. I asked Lisa if she wanted to eat dinner at the union.

"Closed," she said. "But Lit does great burgers."

Because it was between semesters, with classes over and the summer students not yet around, the place was barely open. Lisa gave me a tour.

"We're a bar with food, a bookstore, and a stage, like the Greenwich Village and San Francisco coffeehouses of the fifties and sixties. It was a grocery store until about fifteen years ago, when Lit took it over. We have 92 seats plus the bar. It pays four of us decently.

"We make most of our money off the bar, but we discount bestsellers, poetry, and used copies of dead white male authors, and we have okay food. There's steady business during the week, with occasional poetry readings and jam sessions. It's a drinking and eating crowd, profs trying to seduce students, the usual stuff.

"But on weekends we're really busy. Fridays are open mic nights, Saturday and Sunday it's the better poetry and improv.

"The cops insist we card everybody at the door and only admit over-18s with university IDs, which they say are more difficult to forge than driver licenses.

"This summer the university is testing combining the university's IDs and bursary cards into a debit card-slash-ID card. Lit's a beta-test site. We've got these snazzy new card readers at the door, they validate the card and show the official photo. No match, no entry.

"If it works, we may get portable units so we can let anyone in and card them when they order. It ought to increase business a lot."

We sat at a back table and ordered burgers (bleu cheese for me, three cheeses for her). I couldn't get any worthwhile shots because of the dimness, so I put the camera away and ordered a beer.

"I thought you didn't drink. You made such a production about your first beer at the picnic."

"Did I? Well, it sure tasted good on that hot day. I'm trying out new things. This is the first time I've been in here, for instance."

"I sort of got that sense."

"Yeah. Actually, before Christmas I staked out the front door, with the idea of a photo essay on drunken college students staggering out of a bar." She frowned, but I defended myself. "You have to do what you have to do. I like the fact that you'll call a cab if they ask."

"Cutting people off is the part of the job I like least. Sometimes they get belligerent. There're a couple of buttons around that call the security guy if things get ugly. Usually, though, their friends take care of them.

She brightened. "But I get some good material from the repartee that's involved in cutting them off. I came in second in the winter Ratty contest with a back-and-forth on the subject of 'just one more.' Maybe we ought to see if I can write something to wrap around your photographs."

"Wanna come up and see my etchings?" It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Sure." We paid separately.

I pulled up the folder of the shoot, almost 400 pictures I'd taken during that lonely December. I gave her the chair and sat on the end of the bed watching her flip through them. She picked out a dozen and I made a summary sheet.

"You're good at this, Carl. I mean it. I've seen gallery exhibits in Chicago and New York where you could hold your own. They really tell a story. I think I can find some words." I slid everything into a manila envelope, closed it, and we stood.

And came together. I pulled her ass into my erection while she jammed her face into mine. We ground together and tried to suck each other's tongues into our mouths.

"I'm gonna get you naked," she puffed, pulling my shirt out of my pants as I staggered to lever out of my sneakers. I opened my belt and she yanked my zipper down and quickly had everything in a puddle. She tickled my balls and squeezed my cock.

My tongue fluttered across her insteps as I slid off her right sandal, then the left one. Each time she moaned, which made my cock even harder.

She had her shirt and bra off by the time I stood. Her breasts were really small.

I popped the button at the top of her beltless pants and yanked them down. From my squat I was face-to-face with her matted brown bush.

Her pussy smelled ready. I cupped her ass cheeks and pulled her to my face, aiming for her slim pussy lips, and got "ummmm ohhhh" as I probed with my tongue. She ground into my face and began humping.

"It's so fast, god so fast, I'm so hot for you, I'm —" as she humped my face again, hard. Suddenly, soundlessly, she stiffened and shook, pulled me even tighter into her, bounced against me twice, and slumped.

I managed to get us onto the bed and we lay tight together. Her erratic breathing eased as I caressed her sweaty cheek. Her forehead was plastered with her long curls. I kissed her softly.

"Did you get the license plate of the truck?" she croaked.

"No. Why would you want it?"

"So I can track him down and make him do that again."

We slid between the sheets and I pulled her on top of me. "What do you like? I owe you big time," she smiled as she ground her pussy against my flattened cock.

"I'm so boring, I like missionary. But do you have any special way of warming a boy up?"

"Tell ya what I'm gonna do," she said, as she sat up, straddled my hips, and took my growing hardness in her hands. "I'm gonna suck you till you're eleven feet long, then I'm gonna pussy-squeeze your cock into the diameter of a pencil, Then I'm gonna make you cum like a fountain. All in fifteen minutes."

"You'd do that for a guy you've just met?"

"If he'll do me the small favor of making me cum like that again, you betcha."

We sixty-nined. Between what was left after I ate her and her own juices, Lisa was wet and turned on. Her clit easily popped from behind its hood as I tongued her and flicked the little nubbin.

"Oh god, that's nice," I said as she slurped my cock.

She shifted around a little, for more leverage. I stabilized her with my hands on her ass and lightly touched her asshole, just to see what would happen. She ground her pussy into my face and pushed her hips at the shaky pedestal of my tongue.

The last time I'd been smothered by a pussy, I'd blacked out, so I lifted her top leg up, to create an airway. "I feel awkward that way," she said, pulling off my cock.

"Would it work better if you lay on top of me?"

"Let's see," and she shifted onto my chest. "Yeah, this'll work. C'mon, you've got my motor running." I could reach her tiny breasts, so I started tweaking the nipples lightly, then harder.

"Mmmmf," she said, which I translated as "Oh god yes, so nice, keep doing that," because her mouth was full of cock.

I brushed her asshole again and she pushed her pussy further into my face, not enough to scare me but making it even easier to tongue her.

I wiggled my tongue and liberated her clit to its full length, maybe an inch. Pressing the shaft against my teeth got me nothing, but when I got the nub against my teeth and pressed hard with my tongue, she jerked and squealed as much as you can with a mouth full of cock.

A slight dip of my finger into her asshole made her bounce her hips up, pull off my cock, then crash onto the bed beside me.

"I can't do it, you're distracting me," I heard her say from the other end of the bed.

"I didn't want an eleven-foot long pencil for a cock anyway. Let's declare it a tie and move on."

"Goodie, I like plain vanilla fucking too," and she swung around and was over me on all fours, her tiny breasts pointing downward. I moved away from the center and she flopped onto her back.

She spread her legs and I climbed between them and got inside her. She welcomed me with a pussy handshake and a swift hip swing. When she let go I started a fast pace.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and suspended herself under me. We crashed again and again. The knowledge that someone else was controlling the belly-on-belly sounds was so exciting that I began to lose control.

"You're making me cum, I can feel it, it's starting —"

"Shut up and fuck me! C'mon, fuck me! I want to cum with you! Oh yeah, NOW you're fucking me right! Push it in harder! HARDER!"

I telegraphed my cumming and she wailed her excitement. "Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Cum in me! Cum! Oh goddddd, I'M CUMMING TOO, I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMMMING!"

My arms gave out and I landed my entire dead weight onto her, still spurting. Fearful of having hurt her, I did a one-armed pushup and she squirmed out from under me, unfortunately pulling away from my cock as she did so.

"Oh my, have I just been fucked," she said, licking her dry lips to soften them.

"Me too. Did you see the license plate of that truck?"

"Truck? Oh, yeah, that truck. God, that was good."

I don't think I'd ever seen smaller breasts. They were virtually invisible on her chest as she lay there, except for the nipples. I idly stroked the left one and it stiffened invitingly, but she pulled away.

"Please don't, it's so sensitive. I'll do anything you want, just don't touch them right now."

In the bathroom, I peed and cleaned myself, then brought a warm wet cloth to her and washed her thighs and pussy. As I was mopping the bed, she idly stroked my hair. When I came back, I flopped down beside her and we kissed sweetly.

"What's the Ratty? I mean, is it a thing, like the Oscar, a statuette?"

"No, just a certificate, suitable for framing. They post the winner on their website. If it's a performance they have a link to the YouTube video.

""Right now I am working really hard, trying to write something longer that will get published, get me noticed.

"My mom, on the other hand, thinks I should major in elementary ed."

"From her point of view, writing and waiting tables probably don't seem like compelling career choices."

"If you have the drive, you've got to write all the time, so you make a living any way you can. Some writers were born into money, some worked as bank tellers. Many women writers had leisure to write because of who they were married to, while others practically starved."

"So that's your path?"

"Yup. The Ratty is actually the fifth award I've won, not counting my high school awards. I've been included in three anthologies and I've been in group readings in Chicago and New York. And I just turned nineteen."

"So what're you doing in a dump like this?"

"Mom could be right, I could wind up having to teach somebody's puking, mewling kids their letters. I'm hedging my bets with a decent education at a good university. In effect, it's subsidized writing time, and I have to take advantage of it."

"Do you know how much I love your breasts?"

She stiffened. "My roommate had these two udders that she hated, but I'd have traded anything for,

"Frankly, it hurts when guys pass on me because I don't have a decent chest. I tried push-up bras, chest exercises, even stuffing my bra with tissue. Finally I realized that if a guy who likes big tits finds out he'd been fooled, what good has it done me? So I work on being attractive in other ways."

"I mean I like your breasts the way they are, small."

"You don't consider yourself a breast man?"

"I do, I am. Yours are wonderful. If your nipples are always as sensitive as they were just now, I'm in heaven."

Her eyes blazed. "Bullshit."

"May I?" and I slipped my mouth over the left nipple. "Ohhhh," she moaned as I softly pressed it against my teeth with my tongue. When I looked up at her, there was this soft smile on her lips. I popped off. "That is so erotic. Can I have my way with them for a little bit?"

"Let me suck your cock, you'll like that more," she offered.

"No, please, just let me do this. Let me give you pleasure."

She nodded and relaxed a little. I started by kissing her thighs, moving to the V where they joined her torso, then tongued for her clit, but I wanted those breasts.

I trailed my tongue around the soft outline of the left breast, the one she'd pulled away from me, trolling for a pleasure point. At about 7 o'clock she moaned a little, and then again at 4. Triangulating between those two points and the nipple, I tongued, kissed, and lightly tweaked the nipple with my lips, and she moaned in pleasure.

Shifting position so that I could finger her pussy as I worked the breast, I pushed aside the hood over her clit. It was back to small, but I persisted and Lisa wiggled her hips. "Niiiice," she cooed.

I played with her clit with one hand and twisted her nipple, then took it in my mouth and nipped it while I swirled two fingers around her clit and into her pussy.

By now she was breathing really heavily. I pulled my fingers out of her pussy to focus on her breast. The 7 o'clock spot was more sensitive, so I tweaked the nipple with my wet fingers and tongued there. I sensed she was building to some sort of climax so I nipped at the nipple again.

"Oh god yesssss! My god that's gooood! Don't stop! Please! Keep going! Finger my clit! Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!" She clamped her thighs together and writhed. "Oh yessss, yesssss! Godddddd!"

I'd kept my eyes on her face as she closed in on her orgasm, watching as the paroxysm of pleasure, pain, and satisfaction played itself out. When she settled onto the bed, I moved beside her and licked the sweat on her face.

"You're an apparition, right? Some sort of an avatar? No one has ever done it that way to me."

"Their loss. Can I play with the other one now?"

"No! Absolutely not! It would only be less wonderful than what you just did." She took my lips and kissed me, hard, then slowly, softly.

It was almost midnight, so we spooned and fell asleep.

*

I'll never tire of wake-up blowjobs. Lisa's long curls framed a slowly bobbing head and her eyes were smiling at me as she came into focus. "Mmmmf" she said, which I translated as "g'morning sailor."

I came, and she slugged it down. As I softened, she cleaned me off, then flopped beside me and we kissed, swapping saliva and cum. It was six and the sun was rising.

"Need to get an early start?"

"Not really, but I do find I write better on a full stomach," and she patted her belly.

"I've gotta call Dr. Draper to see if he wants me to start today. C'mon, let's shower." She wanted to blow me again in the shower but I wanted to fuck, in bed. I soaped her all over, especially her asshole. I nibbled both of her breasts and she squealed.

In bed we coupled fast and beat against each other. She came first and made me pull out, she was that sensitive.

I was still hard, very hard. "Do I have to blow you again to get that thing down?" she smirked.

"That's okay, I'll take care of it," I bluffed.

"Goodie! I've never watched a guy jack himself off."

I think she's serious.

"You taking notes?"

"Yeah, maybe. You'll find out in my first book."

She gave me a helpful slurp, then popped off and settled beside me. I wasn't surprised that I didn't cum quickly, but with an attentive if non-participating audience I was soon at the five minute mark with no end in sight.

She sucked me again, a lot longer this time, and soon I was getting into it.

"Here it comes! Watch out for flying cum!" and I shot two decent ropes and a squirt. I watched in astonishment as she lapped up every drop of cooling cum from my belly, then cleaned my floppy cock.

"I'm what's called a cumslut," she said, answering the question in my eyes. We showered again, dried each other, dressed, and marched off to a breakfast place she knew. I tried to pay but she insisted on splitting the bill.

"Gotta play by the rules, otherwise Ruth won't let us date."