The Geek

The characters in this story are real. The events are fictional. I wrote it so my faithful reader and critic, S.E., would know something of my background.

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When I was in High School, I was labeled as being a Geek. In 1954 that word had a completely different meaning than it does today. There was no such thing as personal computers. The Internet and e-mail were not even in our vocabulary yet. We didn't have electronic anything except a black and white TV. No, Geeks in my youth were guys who were academically gifted but socially impaired. I wore horn-rimmed glasses, carried at least four pens in my shirt pocket, wore white socks and knew how to use a slide rule. I never had enough nerve to ask a girl out on a date. I didn't have a car or any real spending money anyway. I had a paper route but nearly every nickel l I earned went into my model railroad in the basement.

What I knew about girls and sex would fit in a thimble and still have room for your thumb. In our school, if a girl got pregnant, she was considered to be from a lower class of society and she would disappear from school and would never be seen again by any of us. Pornography simply didn't exist in our town. Once I saw an "eight pager", a small stapled collection of comic strips showing all sorts of sex by comic characters. The girlie magazines in the cigar store in the train station only had women in bathing suits and nothing less.

My friends and I were basically terrified of girls. We thought they considered sex as a horrible duty a woman had to perform. If an unmarried woman had sex, she was a whore. We knew where babies came from and had a vague idea of how things got started. The movies we saw had married couples sleeping in twin beds with a night stand between them. In the early 1950s a movie came out, "The Moon Is Blue" which had a scandalous scene showing a pregnant woman. She was fully clothed, mind you, but she was pregnant. The movie could not be shown in our town but since the drive-in theater was outside the jurisdiction of the city forces for the common good, we got to see it. Oh, we went to dances where we stood in a knot in one corner of the gym, not asking a girl to dance because 1. We didn't know how and 2. We were terrified of rejection.

Imagine then, if you will, the effect Miss B___ had on us naïve boys. She was an instructor at the local liberal arts college. Our school system had received a grant to offer a class in advanced English composition for those seniors who intended to go to college. Miss B___ came over every day from the college and taught this class during the last period of the day. I most definitely intended to go to the state university so I signed up for the class.

All the teachers in our high school were older people, in their forties and fifties. Miss B___ was probably in her early twenties. She was a tall woman, rather slender and wore very nondescript clothing. She showed up in plain cotton dresses and occasionally a blouse and skirt but never slacks. It was obvious to us super intelligent geeks that she was single because she didn't have a wedding ring and we all called her Miss. (We were so good at deduction.) I can say with some assurance that all of the guys in the class had countless wet dreams and licentious thoughts about this woman. When we jacked off in the privacy of our bathrooms or bedrooms at home, we were dreaming about movie actresses, and now a certain English teacher..

The jocks and cheerleaders in the class signed up because it was an easy course and if you got a C, you could skip a semester of freshman English in college. But I took the material seriously and worked very hard on my essays and other assignments. It became very clear to my razor sharp mind that I was the best and brightest in the class. I sat in the front row and hung on each of Miss B___'s words. I could tell that she liked me best. (God, how could someone be so stupid as I was?)

One day, towards the end of the school year when everyone was goofing off, knowing that they would graduate no matter what they did in class, (except me, of course), Miss B___ came into the class looking very tired. When class was over and everyone bolted for the door, I hung back. I walked up to her, stuffed full of self-importance, and said,

"Miss B___, you look a little tired. Are you OK?"

"Well David, she answered, I am a little worn out. This running back and forth from the campus to this school is beginning to get to me. I have a ton of essays from my college classes to grade along with all the work from this class. Everything has to be done by next Monday. I've been staying up late trying to get it all done."

"Well, gosh, I said, is there anything I can do to help?"

She looked at me for the first time in a different way. It was almost as though I were a peer, a real adult talking to another. For a moment I thought I had gone too far, spoken in too familiar a fashion. Then she pulled a large sheaf of composition books out of her book bag.

"All of these essays were written by freshmen English students at the college. They all have to be marked up for grammar and spelling and then for content and style. It's going to take me most of the weekend to do them and I still have all of the work from this class."

I saw my opportunity and jumped in with trembling knees.

"Maybe I could do the grammar and spelling for you and then all you would have to correct is the content."

She looked at me for a second.

"You know, you probably could do as good a job at that as I could. Maybe I could pay you, say 25 cents each. Could you have them done by Sunday afternoon? That way, I could have them done by Monday morning."

"Oh gosh, you don't have to pay me. I'd be glad to do it. I don't have anything else to do this weekend. Sure, I'll do it."

I was so excited I nearly peed in my pants. An adult teacher actually asked me to do some of her work! I couldn't believe my good fortune.

I took the pile of compositions along with my books, dumped them in the basket of my bicycle and headed home. I dashed up to my room and slammed the door. I plunged into the work, skipping supper, ignoring the angry shouts from my parents and snide comments from my sister. I toiled into the night on Friday. After a short and fitful sleep, I spent nearly all of Saturday correcting the horrible spelling and atrocious grammar of the college freshmen. My superiority complex soared to new heights. I was only eighteen and I was smarter than the college kids. On top of that, their teacher asked me to correct their pitiful compositions.!

I could not escape Sunday school and church or the family dinner afterwards. So after that I called Miss B___ on the phone to tell her that the compositions were done. But to my dismay, she did not answer the phone. Being the resourceful lad that I was, I looked up her name in the phone book and found "J. B___", 312 Parkway Drive. It had to be her, I told myself.

I jumped on my bicycle and headed out. I found the house. I knew her car, a 1941 pea green Hudson two door, in the driveway. I was flushed with pride. I stood up straight on her doorstep and rang the bell. I tried desperately to control my labored breathing.

Miss B__ came to the door and took away what little breath I had left. She was wearing a tight white short sleeve sweater and pink shorts. I suddenly realized that she had breasts! They weren't huge but they hung on her chest like.....the only thought that came to my overloaded brain was the water balloons we used to throw at each other on a hot summer day.

"Oh, David, it's you."

"I finished the compositions, Miss B___." I managed to mumble.

I tried to hand them to her but she backed away and said,

"Oh, please come in. I need to pay you. You have no idea what a relief this is to have them corrected."

"No, no, you don't have to pay me. I was glad to do it. It didn't take long at all," I lied.

"Well then, come in for a minute. Would you like a Coke?"

"A Coke would be fine, " I said as I gained a little confidence. The house was very sparsely furnished. A small couch, a seedy looking easy chair, a radio, some old bookcases filled with famous authors and few pictures on the walls made up the total décor. Miss B___ brought me a bottle of soda and had a bottle beer for herself. I was shocked! An English teacher drinking beer, on a Sunday? I tried to hide my surprise and sat in the old chair. She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. I stared like I had never seen a woman before, dressed this way. She smiled at me. I think she knew that I was very nervous. She glanced through a couple of the essays which I had marked up with red pencil.

"You do good work, David. This is going to be a big help to have this all done. So tell me, David, have you picked out a major for college?"

"Oh, I stammered, I guess maybe I'll try engineering or chemistry or something. I don't know."

I was so tongue tied, I could hardly get the words out. I was blatantly staring at her boobs and her legs. I could not maintain eye contact. I gulped my Coke. The carbonation caused me to choke and cough.

"You better slow down, David," she laughed and smiled at my discomfort.

"Tell me something. Do you have a girl friend?"

This question so shocked me that I snorted Coke out of my nose! I was so embarrassed.

"No, I......that is....well I never....." was all I could say.

She didn't laugh at me this time. She handed me a napkin to wipe my face.

"David, come over here and sit next to me. I think we need to have a little chat."

Like an obedient lap dog I got up and walked over to the couch and sat next to her, barely breathing.

"David, she said, you are a very smart guy. I could tell that from the very first day I had you in class. You are a very fast learner and by now, you must have figured out that you are the best student in the class. But when it comes to social skills, especially dealing with girls, you are still in grade school. You're not bad looking but you are so shy and inept when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex, I fear that you are going to enter college a complete neophyte. Doesn't that scare you just a little?"

My heart was pounding and sinking at the same time. She described me perfectly but her assessment hit a real sore spot with me. I knew I was a klutz with the girls but I thought I was just an ugly, gangly brainiac and no self-respecting girl would want to have anything to do with me.

I was so close to Miss B___ that I could smell a faint whiff of perfume. That, combined with the white sweater, pink shorts and closest proximity I had ever experienced with a mature woman, other than my mother, caused my brain to experience a severe overload. I just sat there like a scared church mouse staring into the eyes of snake about to swallow it.

"Look, David" I'm not trying to embarrass you but if you're going to go to a big university, away from home and your friends, you have to build up a little confidence and learn to be at ease with girls. Don't you agree?"

"I guess so....I mean....what should I do? I don't really know any girls that well and.....I have never......you know....."

"David, she said with a very warm smile and she took my hands in hers, I have watched you staring at my breasts ever since you walked in the front door. Have you ever seen or touched a woman's breasts?"

"Uh, well......I....that is....well....no I never....." I was so unnerved, I could hardly speak.

Suddenly, she crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her sweater and whipped it off. For the first time in my life, I saw a real brassier and the tops of real breasts. I must have gawked with my mouth open. She smiled again and reached behind her and unhooked the bra. There they were! Two breasts complete with little brown nipples. Nothing in the National Geographic magazines could compare with this!

"See, David, they won't bite you. Go ahead and touch them if you want to."

If I wanted to?!!!! I gingerly reached up and touched her breasts with my finger tips.

"No, no, silly, grab them and squeeze them. Learn what they feel like."

I began to follow orders. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the couch, with her arms over her head. She gave a deep sigh.

"That's good. David, keep doing it," she moaned.

I continued my tactile exploration of her breasts. I leaned closer to look at her nipples. I felt like my brain was expanding. My pulse was pounding and suddenly, I felt an erection moving in my pants.

"Go ahead, kiss them, suck on them, bite them a little," she said, not opening her eyes.

Blindly I followed her instructions and did as I was told. The more I kissed and sucked on her nipples the more she began to moan. All the previous thoughts I had ever had about women not liking sex with men went flying out of my poor overworked brain. Wherever did such stupid thoughts originate? Nothing was ever said in Health class about sucking on a woman's breasts because she would like it!

Suddenly, she opened her eyes and lowered her arms.

"So, David, what do you think? Can you see what you've been missing?"

I was mute. I merely nodded.

"Would you like to see more?" she asked with a slight smile.

Again, all I could do was nod. She stood up and undid the buttons on her shorts. They dropped to the floor and I got my first view of a pair of panties stretched over her pelvis with a little bulge in the center.

A few blond hairs peeked out from seams at the center. Miss B___ slowly pushed the white panties down to her knees and they fell to the floor. There, in front of my face, flushed with embarrassment, was the first woman's crotch I had ever seen. The room seemed very warm all of a sudden. I began to sweat. My hands felt clammy.

"You see, David, this is what all the fuss is about. This is a vagina. This is what men dream about, isn't it? Do you dream about pushing your penis into a vagina like this? Do you masturbate and think about doing it to a woman? You can tell me, David. No one is going to know what is happening here today. Go ahead, touch it. Put your finger right in the middle."

I was on auto pilot by now. If she had told me to climb up on the roof and jump off, I would have done it without question. I tentatively put my finger in the center of her cunt. It was hot and wet! I snatched my finger back as though I had been burned.

"Don't be afraid. Any girl would love to have you work your fingers in her pussy."

'Pussy'? I wondered. Is that what girls call it?

Once again I poked her. This time my finger slid further inside. I began to move it up and down a little, in and out. Once again Miss B___ closed her eyes and began to moan.

"That's good. Keep doing that. Move your fingers up to the top. Feel that little bump there. That's my clitoris. Keep rubbing that. Oh yes, keep.......keep....."

He voice began to fade away. She placed her hands on my shoulders. She began to thrust herself onto my hand. Soon I had three fingers inside her. The sweat was pouring off my face. My breathing was as labored as hers. Then came the biggest shock of all.

"David, stick your tongue in there. Lick it, wiggle your tongue in my pussy," she cried out.

Stick my tongue in her....thing? The very idea was so repulsive to me I withdrew my fingers. My fingers were soaked with her juices. I could not believe what I just heard.

"Please, David, don't leave me like this." She grabbed my shoulders and pulled my face right into her bush. She lifted one leg and placed it next to mine on the couch.

"Do it David, tongue me, please."

She grabbed my head and suddenly my nose was jammed into her slit. By this time I was acting like a robot. I did as she told me and stuck out my tongue. The taste was musky and sharp. She moved my head up and down until I got the message and began to work my tongue into her as far as I could. I lapped upward and caught the little knob at the top. She cried out and pulled me in even harder. She jammed her pelvis into my face again and again as I worked my tongue any which way I could. This went on for a few minutes when she stiffened up and doubled over on top of my head with a sharp cry. She held my face in her bush such that it was hard to breath but I sat the on the couch, motionless until she decided to release her grip. I fell back on the sofa, my face covered with her slime. Miss B__ slowly slipped to the floor, gasping for breath. I thought I had hurt her and was about to apologize.

"Oh, David, that was wonderful. I know those girls at the university are in for a real treat. I was right. You are a very fast learner. Oh, look at you! You look like you've been punched in the stomach! Breathe, my friend, breathe. You just gave this old girl a wonderful orgasm!"

With that she laid back on the floor and continued her heavy breathing. For myself, I was slowly beginning to return to reality. I took my handkerchief and wiped my face off. I stared at the naked woman lying in the floor in front of me. My erection was gone. My under shorts were wet. I had ejaculated in my pants and didn't even know it until now. I stared in disbelief at what I once thought was a prim and proper English teacher but was in fact a wanton slut! (I once heard my dad use that expression in describing my mom's sister.)

She rose from the floor and walked quickly to the back of the house. She returned wearing a robe that had printed dragons all over it.

"My brother is in the Army. He is in occupied Japan and he sent me this. Isn't it cute?"

"Um,...yes, it's very nice."

Miss B___ sat down next to me again. She placed one arm around my shoulder.

"David, you have just had but one experience with a willing woman. There is so much more I could teach you. Do you think you could keep our little secret long enough for me to show you what else you need to know?"

"Miss B___," I stammered, I...."

"Jane, she said, my first name is Jane. Call me Jane, David."

"Uh Miss, I mean Jane, that was such a .....a.....nice.....oh, ...I mean I liked it but... I think I messed up my pants and I....."

I was so embarrassed that I had a wet spot in the crotch of my pants that I could not answer her question.

She looked down at my pants.

"It sure looks like you did come in your pants. Here, take them off and I'll run them through the washer."

"No, I couldn't do that. I have to get home. I....."

"Tell you what, she said. We'll wash down just that part of your pants and I'll get out the steam iron and that will dry out the wet spot in no time."

(Nobody that I knew had an automatic washer and dryer in 1954. They probably existed but not in my world.)

I got up and turned my back to Jane. I lowered my pants and took them off, handing them to her without even looking at her. I was so worried that she might see the wet spot on my white briefs. (Today I cringe when I think about it. I had just sucked a woman to an orgasm and was still afraid to show her the bulge in my tighty whites!) Her next words came to me like a thunder clap.

"You need to take off your shorts too, David. They are just as wet if not more so."

I had never been naked in front of a woman. The fact that she had just been naked in front of me and that I had stuck my tongue in her cunt was completely lost in my clouded brain. But, I dutifully pulled them off and handed them to her. She walked out of the room and I sat back down on the couch, my hands over my cock. I sat there for a few minutes, not knowing what to do next. Idly, I began to fondle myself. That was something I did just about any time I could at this age. Then, Jane walked back into the room and I quickly covered up again.

"David, David, she said, slowly shaking her head. What am I going to do with you? Now, take your hands away and let me see what you're hiding. After all, you've seen nearly everything I have. It's only fair that I get to see you."