Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds (11 page)

“Please,” I whispered. “I can’t get it. Let me down, sir.”

“No.”

I couldn’t even stand flat. His fingers, long as they were, extended fully into me. I couldn’t move. I was pinned by the most sensitive part of me.

I know! I
thought. I’d get another book, knock down the heavy volume—I picked one up, but found my hand slapped away.

“No cheating. For that…”

His hand lifted my skirt, sliding it up so one cheek was showing. My face was hot with shame. As far as I could tell, miraculously, the student a few aisles down hadn’t looked up. But that could easily change.

I reached—and failed again.

Skirt went up on the other side. My ass was bare to the entire library, pink and blushing from his contact with it.

“Shall I continue?” he asked. He pulled down my thong, and let it snap back into place.

I wobbled.

“Please let me down, sir.”

“Get the book.”

“I can’t! I—”

My whispering was desperate. He squeezed my ass, hard, then smacked it. I rocked against his fingers, held up by them. I was sure my wetness was dripping down his fingers which pumped inside me, as he stood up on his tiptoes and gently bit my clit. I almost collapsed on his hand.

“Get. The. Book.”

His continued, and my squeaks, I’m sure, were audible. It was a miracle the entire library didn’t come to watch the half-naked girl hoisted on two fingers. He tugged my shirt down, freeing my breasts which tumbled out. He sucked on one and then the other, then rotated within me and moved until his head was between my legs. I rested my knee on his shoulder. Would he let me? Yes. He didn’t seem to notice; he was preoccupied with the view. I slowly transferred more and more weight into it until with a slight push, I hoisted myself up and grabbed the book triumphantly. His fingers slipped out of me and I sank down in relief.

“Against the shelf,” he said. When I blinked, confused: “Must I explain it? Your hands. That shelf.”

I couldn’t bend backwards. I assumed he meant to grip the shelf at about the height of my waist by leaning forward. I did so. He stepped behind me, pulling my hips further until I was a tabletop. He balanced this heavy book on my back, then another. He reached around and unbuttoned my blouse the rest of the way, pulled my bra down further, and lifted up my skirt.

“Remember,” he said, “if anyone comes by, they’re going to see you getting fucked. Not me.”

It was true—I was nearly naked.

“Remember the library rules,” he said. “You
must
remain quiet.”

I couldn’t move much while keeping my hands on the shelf, the books balanced on my back—I did feel the palms of his hands slide over my ass and lift up my skirt. I tried to turn to see him.

“Eyes forward,” he snapped, still in a whisper, whipping the bookmark against most sensitive pink.

And I waited.

And waited.

My eyes started to glaze over.

Was he even still there?

Was the boy from the study desk watching? Was a librarian? Would an unsuspecting NYU boy stumble upon me presenting, as it were, and decide to help himself?

My back was getting tired. How long—

And, with that, I felt him thrust all the way in. I gasped so loudly, I was sure several floors heard. He offered his hand, the one that’d been inside me, and I sucked on it to muffle my sounds. He was insanely thick, the kind of cock you work up to, the kind you slowwwwly slide in the tip, and then move down the shaft—

He thrust in again. It was on the border of pain and pleasure, and this time, as he crashed into my cervix, I wasn’t sure I could go much farther in that direction. He picked up speed, his balls slapping my clit, his hand moving around to squeeze, to rub—then he stopped.

He withdrew.

“Eyes forward,” he said.

Oh, God, not this again!

Several moments of quiet. Of not knowing.

Then I felt him kneeling beneath me, sucking on my clit, taking it into his mouth, his tongue lapping against the folds, his fingers pounding. He gently bit my thigh. He returned to my clit, squeezed and fondled. Pounded. He took the books off my back and flipped me around. Suddenly standing upright, he reached under my ass and picked me up, then lifted me against the Anatomy shelf, his very large specimen drilling into me. Again, I was held up by something long and hard; this time, I didn’t want it to end. He thrust deep enough to slam into me, but slowly enough that I could feel my muscles work, squeezing, to accommodate him. When I finally came, biting my own hand this time to somehow muffle the noises, I was amazed by the strength of my body, all of the muscle spasms, having been so tense and taut and upright for so long—even my calves beat, my toes curled.

He pulled out and, pushing my shoulders down so I was on my knees, then tugging my hair back and my mouth open, came between my lips in an enormous load that sent me sputtering. He pulled the back of my head toward him, ensuring his seed poured directly down my throat, then lifted up my chin so none might escape. His eyes were squeezed shut so tight he looked almost as if he was crying. There it was: the strong man made, by feeling so much, vulnerable. I swallowed.

We collapsed onto the regulation carpeting, my breast on his shirt, my leg on his knee, my sweat absorbed by both.

“So,” he said, after we’d caught our breath. “Fondue?”

by Dirk Taylor

Mark Walker was the most beautiful man at the University of Wisconsin. He was taller than most boys on campus and had a perfect V-shaped build. Mark was always jogging to keep in shape, even in the winter. He had a dorky job, in my opinion, as if though he were an anime character running to save the universe. Sometimes when I was leaving the comic book store I would see him jogging around campus in nothing but runner shorts and his black and red “Wisconsin Row Crew” jersey in forty-degree weather. But he never noticed me as he passed by nor did I think he had any interest in comic books.

Mark held the stroke seat on our university’s row team, which basically meant he sat on the stern of the boat and set the rhythm for the others rowers. He was in the most important position on the team, and you could tell it was a right fit for him. He was a natural born leader. When I would walk into the classes I had with him, he was always early and always prepared. He could handle it all: academics, sports, and a social life.

He was a year ahead of me, I first saw him during my freshman orientation. Our tour guide was lost and we were walking passed the boys’ locker room. I staggered behind just to take a sneak peak to see what kind of men we hand on campus, and there was Mark. He was in nothing but a white towel and flip-flops. He was walking into the showers as my cock got immediately hard. I had never seen six-pack abs in real life before. His abs were tan, hairless, and he had a little birthmark by his bellybutton. I was full--blown hard and wanted to sneak in but I could hear our tour guide asking us all to stay together.

It wasn’t until I saw his face on the campus site highlighting the row team’s recent win in Boston that I put a name to the face. One day the following summer, I found out the row team was practicing on Lake Mendota, which wasn’t too far from my dorm. I rode my bike over there just to see him. Mark was sitting in the stern of the ship as he rowed with his other teammates. He was a sight. I sat on a rock behind a bush and pulled my cut-off shorts down. I began massaging my cock as he was rowing harder and harder. His arms were just as tanned as his abs were and full of sweat. They were perfectly sculpted as if he were an Olympian god. His face was in agony, as he not only pushed himself but his teammates as well. His typically black spiky hair fell just above his forehead. He was pushing his physical endurance to its peak. I could tell.

“Just a little faster,” he said to his team. “We can do this!”

He wasn’t yelling at them, but his voice was commanding. It echoed right to where I was sitting. I was jerking myself now and couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He was gorgeous and seeing a gorgeous boy in physical pain always got my cock throbbing.

When they docked on the shore, Mark was the first to jump out of the boat after the coach and high-five his teammates. Then they started roughhousing; they kicked off their shoes, swung their shirts in the air, and wrestled with each other. Mark pinned one of the scrawnier members on the floor and playfully pinched his nipples. I was still behind the bush, jerking myself quickly now, running my hand down to my hole to finger myself. I shot a heavy load onto my chest. I had never come so hard before. I lay there by myself, my chest covered with come as I watched Mark and the other boys rolling on the ground.

* * * *

I had a biology class with him that fall. I was a sophomore now and he was a junior. But he felt so much more accomplished than most. It wasn’t just physical attraction. I admired him. Even our biology professor joked with him during class, saying we had a “big man on campus” in our midst. I sat behind him, but again he never seemed to notice me. He always stretched back in his seat and would almost hit me with his fist. He would never even turn around to apologize. I was invisible to him.

One Wednesday a few weeks after the fall semester began, I was in the library reading the comic books I’d just picked up from the comic book store. I was in a study cubicle anxiously reading the DC comics 52 re-launch of
Batgirl
. I was excited that Batgirl could finally walk again and that she was no longer known as Oracle. Mark walked by my desk. I felt my cock growing hard as he took the study cubicle behind me. I heard a light thump, followed by an identical thump. I turned around and looked on the floor. Mark had taken off his sneakers and let out a slight cough.

I couldn’t concentrate. Mark was sitting right behind me, and the only thing separating us was a cubicle wall. I turned around and saw his socked feet resting on top of each other. I stuck my hands down my pants and stroked my cock just a little. I heard his iPod blasting and thought for a second it was my favorite band, For Our Hero (who incidentally was playing our auditorium next week), but I couldn’t tell what he was listening to.

I mean, look. I know I’m sounding a bit like a stalker. I actually got a lot of play from other gay boys on campus. In fact, not to sound full of myself, but I was pursued by other upperclassmen on campus all the time. It was one of the advantages of being “fresh meat on campus.” So it wasn’t like Mark was the only guy in the world whom I wanted. But like I said, there was something special about him

I didn’t want to jerk off in the library and, for that matter, I didn’t want to risk Mark hearing me, so I took my hands out of my pocket. The fact he was sitting behind me could have me coming later on when I could masturbate. I’d probably even masturbate three times just thinking about his socked feet. Heck, I’d jackrabbit all night: As a side note, I called myself a jackrabbit because I could come pretty quickly but then get hard again in seconds.

I went back to reading my Batgirl comic when the most unlikely thing happened.

“Yo,” I heard someone say out of the corner of my ear.

I stuck my head up to find Mark standing right in front of me.
Thank God I had stopped masturbating
. This was the first time I had ever been face to face with him, and the last thing I wanted him to see was my wet cock whipped out in public.

“S’up?” I said trying to be cool, but I’m pretty sure my voice squeaked a little.

He gave a little smirk. I had never noticed how defined his jaw line was from his Facebook photos, nor did I ever notice the pale shade of pink his lips were.

“You’re in my biology class, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said, obviously knowing I was in that class. “11am, Auditorium room with Professor Somerville?” I asked.

“Man, ever notice his last name is supposed to be a town on the side of the road and not the name of your college professors?” Mark said.

“Yea,” I giggled. “Maybe he should go back to that town and just give us all As.”

Mark gave half a laugh as if he wanted to laugh at my joke but didn’t find it funny.

“Are you studying for the quiz?” he asked. My heart began to pound. I was getting nervous just speaking with him. A million thoughts were going through my head. I wanted to be witty and charming, and at the same time I tried not to look down at his feet. I knew he must have still been in his white socks because I didn’t hear him put his shoes back on before he came by to speak with me.

“In theory,” I replied, showing him the
Batgirl
re-launch.

“Niiiiice,” he said picking up the issue. “But dude, I gotta tell you. Oracle all the way. Barbra Gordon is supposed to be Oracle. Not Batgirl.”

He started flipping through the issue. “How can she walk again? Lazarus Chamber?”

He held the issue with one hand as he studied the pages, then did the quintessential straight boy thing. He stuck his other hand under his shirt and started caressing his stomach. “’Cause that’s the only way she could walk again,” he said. “Unless she had some nanotechnology placed in her spine. But I think that’s more of a Marvel comics thing, right?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mark Walker, star of the row team and “big man on campus,” was actually a comic book geek like me.

“They haven’t explained it yet. The first issue just came out this week. I think Gail Simone wants to just catch our attention.” I said.

As I was about to go on a tirade on how Barbara Gordon’s Batgirl is way cooler than her Oracle persona, we both turned around when we heard a loud “Shhh!” coming from the stacks of the library. We were obviously being too loud and someone was unpleased.

He mouthed to me “one second” and disappeared back to his study cubicle. My heart was still racing. Was that it? Was the conversation I had been waiting to happen since I was a freshman over because some random person shushed us? Well, it wasn’t, because within seconds Mark came back with his book bag on his shoulder and his white Puma sneakers in his hand. He dropped them next to me before disappearing again. He was in his socks and he was talking to me. I stared at his shoes on the floor and felt my hole expanding. I could tell my hole wanted to be fingered so badly by him. I have to admit, I didn’t have a foot fetish perse, but something about him walking around the library in white socks with holes in them made him vulnerable.

He came back to me but this time he was moving his chair next to mine. “I’m Mark,” he said, extending his strong hand to me.

“Adam,” I said shaking his hand. His grip was stronger and warmer than any other hand I’d grabbed.

“Adam.” He contemplated, looking off to the side. “It’s very biblical.”

“Look who’s talking. Last I checked, ‘Mark’ was a gospel,” I said.

He turned a bit red. I had humiliated him a bit in conversation, but of course he bounced back.

“I guess…”he said, sitting back on his chair “I must have been asleep during that part of bible study.”

He picked up my bag of comic books. “What other books did you get this week? Anything good?” he asked.

“Ugh, just issues that are part of the DC comics big re-launch. They’re rebooting their books. So it’s a big week for us fanboys.”

“Rebooting?” he asked. “Like another crisis?”

“Naw they’re just resetting their books back to issue one to grab new readers. Do you read comics?”

“Yea,” he said, flipping through my stack of titles. “But I only read Marvel stuff. I don’t like DC as much. They fuck with continuity all the time. Nothing ever stays the same.”

He pulled out
Animal Man
from the stack. “Is Grant Morrison still writing this one?” he inquired.

“Naw,” I replied. “He’s on
Batman
.”

He was looking at the
Animal Man
cover so intently, as if we were remembering something. The muscles on his arms flexed each time he turned a page. God, he was a hot piece of meat, and all I wanted was him to slam me down and fuck me.

“Dude, I gotta be honest. Non-comic talk aside,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m going to be failing biology and—”

Suddenly an old man pushing a library cart came up to us. He was stocky and was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He wasn’t very tall either; Mark was sitting down and came up to his chin. That’s how tall Mark was. The stocky librarian stood before us with authority, but in reality he had none when standing next to someone as powerful looking as Mark.

“If you boys are going to continue making all this ruckus then I’m gonna have to ask you to get one of the study rooms up there,” the stocky librarian said in a squeaky voice. “You need to keep it down. Folks are trying to study here.”

We both looked at him and apologized, but the stocky librarian wouldn’t have it. He already judged us. Perhaps he was sensing something brewing between us, and he didn’t want to see it unfold in his presence.

“And for God’s sake, son. No one wants to smell those soggy beavers,” the librarian said pointing to Mark’s feet. “Put your shoes on.”

Mark looked down at his feet, then at me. He was flush with embarrassment as he started putting his shoes back on. Actually, he looked more than embarrassed. He looked human, which is something I never thought of him as. Even he could get publicly humiliated for breaking a code of conduct in our library. I was secretly glad to see it happen in front of me. Mark was such a powerful, beautiful man and this lowly librarian was able to put Mark in his place. It turned me on.

We both looked at each other and shrugged. “Upstairs?” Mark asked the stocky librarian. “Upstairs on the fourth floor, young man. You boys can be as loud as you want up there.”

Mark smirked at me. “Upstairs, then?”

The stairs to the fourth-floor study rooms were windy. It was like walking up a thread of copper. We passed the smell of dusty books and forgotten literature. Mark was walking up the stairs before me and his ass was bouncing side to side in his loose fit jeans. I kept thinking how hot his ass would look in a pair of skinny jeans, but I didn’t think he would be the kind of guy to wear them.

The halls were narrow and the florescent lights were flickering as we passed the astronomy section. No one was around. We opened the first available study room and dropped our bags on the table. He walked over to the dry erase board, where “cellular respiration” was written in big red letters.

“Looks like someone else was studying bio here too,” Mark said.

He took the seat next to me and folded his hands on the table. “Yeah, so anyway, if I fail biology, my GPA could drop and I’d lose scholarship,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve kind put it off but it’s one of those required classes.”

“Ah,” I said. “Biology can be challenging. Especially if you’re concentrating a lot on rowing.”

He smiled at me. “You know I’m on the rowing team?”

“That’s the rumor around campus.” I smirked. “Plus Professor Somerville may have mentioned it once or twice.”

“You know that old man wanted to row instead of being the mayor of Somerville,” Mark grinned. “But it’s nice to know you were paying attention.”

“Well,” I shrugged. “I may have been awake for that part of the lecture, and speaking of the lecture…we have a quiz on the diversities of life next class. Want to compare notes?”

“Sure,” he said. “But I’m not the best note taker. I took that career quiz in college. Apparently court reporter isn’t in my future. Can I check yours out?”