Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds (7 page)

“Shouldn’t you be out there”—she pointed towards the tree branches hitting the windows—“recording this storm or something?”

“It’s my night off,” he said. “Now, back to you.”

Cyrus made a few more circles, muttering to himself, then threw the pencil across the room. It hit the wall, leaving a mark. “I just don’t get it,” he moaned. “How in the world does Tiffany Sutton make a
Star Trek
card-carrying, cobalt-coding, certified nerd?”

“You left a mark on my wall.”

“Sorry,” he said, getting up and pulling out a hanky.

“Would you stop trying to put him in a box?” she protested, not caring about the wall. “Everyone does that.” Now she was on a roll. “When he started watching
Myth Busters
at age three, Brandon popped a screw. For at least six months I was worried, but then I realized what I had on my hands.

She stood, took two steps across the room, and wrapped her fingers around Cyrus’s forearms. Yes, she was probably looking at him with crazy eyes, but she needed him to understand. “I had a nerd.” She took a deep breath. “After getting over the shock of it, I remembered you and how successful you’d become.” She squeezed. “After that I accepted and loved him like always.”

“Does he get bullied?”

“All the time.”

Cyrus put his arms out.

“Time for a free hug,” he said as he pulled her against him. “Not that they wouldn’t be free for you,” he muttered into her hair.

She pressed her breasts into his chest, reaffirming there was nothing soft on Cyrus except for the gray matter in his brain. Good Lord, she wanted him, and decided to cut to the chase.

“I’d like to have sex with you.” Tiffany pronounced, because one thing she’d learned early in her career as a single mom was that if she didn’t state her needs she’d never get them fulfilled. Most of the time she didn’t get them met anyway but sometimes the stars aligned. “It’s been a really long time and you’ve been on my mind.”

“Why?” he asked, running his large hand down the side of her face.

“Why to sex or the long time?” Tiffany chirped.

Was she nervous? Couldn’t be. People had said no to her. But then again, her requests didn’t usually pertain to getting down and dirty. Most of the time it was: Could Bryant participate in the after school science program at half price? Could she have the morning off to bring Bryant to the doctor? Could she borrow a few hundred bucks because Bryant wanted a telescope to watch the stars in the backyard? That was a big fat no from everyone in town.

Never did she ask for an orgasm.

“You’re a beautiful woman. That creamy skin and those blue eyes gave rise to my first boner, but—”

Her chin dropped into his chest. She was used to it. “I have a need inside me,” she whispered, throwing a Hail Mary pass. “I’ve been reading some romance novels and there’s this author.” Tiffany licked her lips. “She describes making love and the…” She searched for the right word, finally settling on, “climax.” Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever done it like that.” Like Dorothy, Tiffany was on a journey of discovery too.

“Did he hurt you?” Cyrus asked in a low voice as thunder clapped outside. They both knew he was referring to Brandon.

“No.” She shook her head. “He just didn’t know what he was doing.” She snorted as her eyes shifted towards Bryant’s room. “I guess that’s obvious.”

“You think I can help?” he asked with a mix of disbelief and amazement in his voice.

“I’d like to try,” she whispered. “I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

She rubbed against him.

“I think you’ve fallen for that popular misconception—that nerds are honest.”

“No,” she said with a sly smile. “I’ve fallen for the well-known perception: nerds are good in bed.” She poked at his chest. “Don’t disappoint.”

He laughed while slipping his hand under the edge of her pink sweatpants.

She backed him against the wall as he kissed the tip of her nose. He was going the sensitive, gentle route. Most definitely not what Tiffany wanted. Cupping her hands around his jaw, she pressed her lips hard against his mouth. Because he was smart, he knew he needed to plant his tongue back near her molars. As he cupped her bare butt he said,

“I’ve dreamed of touching your ass since I was thirteen and if I see your breasts tonight, I’ll have no reason to continue living.”

She took his other hand and put it on her breast. “I’ll do you one better,” she purred, feeling his fingers cup the fullness. “We can play show and touch?”

Cyrus pulled away.

Was he putting a stop to things? No, please, no. Yes, she knew her butt was a lot bigger than when she wore a short pleated skirt, but she’d thought, because he’d always had a crush on her, Cyrus would overlook all that stuff. Tiffany let her shoulders drop. She exhaled a huff of air, bangs flying off her forehead. This was probably one big mistake.

“Tiffany,” Cyrus said as his eyes shifted down and it wasn’t towards her breasts, more like her feet. He laced his fingers though hers as his lips skimmed along her eyebrow. “I want to treat you properly, with respect.”

“You want romance?” she asked, pulling back a sob. So this wasn’t about her butt.

“Yes,” he smiled shyly. Those braces he’d wore sophomore year had definitely done a good job. “Could we move to the couch?” He pulled on her hand as he led her two steps across the living room. While gazing into his eyes she tripped over Bryant’s controller, but Cyrus caught her. “Someday I want to bang you against the wall,” he said as he righted her. “Maybe even tomorrow, but tonight I want to take time and savor you.”

How in the world did he make every sound, every syllable, every word sexy? She had no idea, maybe it was a nerd thing.

This was new to her. Brandon liked it fast and hard. Brandon didn’t make words into a symphony. The trucker she’d had a brief affair with pretty much worked from the same playbook. Except he was married.

Did slow mean something else? Something lasting?

No, no, no. She wasn’t going there. The point of this evening’s activity was to find out if she could orgasm. She’d read about a woman who could only do it solo. Even though she was fictional, when she met the right guy, a doctor, and he put his fingers in the right place—well, enough said. Cyrus wasn’t in the medical profession but he was close enough.

And he was real.

Cyrus kissed her again. God, he felt good. She tugged at the edge of his T-shirt.

“You want me to take this off?” he croaked.

Most guys didn’t ask. But that was okay; this was Cyrus.

“Yes,” she said, then added, “please.”

That chest of his was even better up close.

“Have you been working out?” She panted, running her hands over each bead of muscle and sounding like a cheap porn video.

Instead of letting them sink into something from
Debbie Does Dallas,
Cyrus hushed her with a kiss as he pushed her T-shirt over her head. After her shower she’d put on her best lingerie. Optimistic? Most definitely. Worth it? Hell, yeah!

“You like?” she demanded, pushing his hands to the hooks nestled between her breasts. The pink lace had set her back forty bucks. She’d bought it before she knew the trucker was married.

He nodded, reaching for her other breast. His index finger brushed along the top edge.

“Stunning,” he said.

She slipped out of her sweats as she pushed herself into Cyrus’s lap. His fingers traced along her belly and the edge of her underwear. Through the fabric he cupped her. She rolled her hips towards his hand and moaned. Before she had a chance to inhale, he slipped his fingers under her panties.

“Tell me where to touch you,” he whispered. His breath warm against her ear.

“I don’t know,” she panted, suddenly shy.

He thought about it a moment. “Why don’t you lose these?” he suggested, tugging at her panties.

“Not yet.” She remembered something she’d read. “Sometimes, it’s good to work up here,” she suggested, gesturing towards her breasts.

“I aim to please,” he said, kissing her mouth, neck, shoulders, creating a sensual path to her nipples but not touching her. She arched across his knees, feeling something deep and primal inside her. Abandon—that was what she needed tonight, kind of like the storm brewing outside.

She felt guilty about her son sleeping in the next room, but not guilty enough to ask Cyrus if he wanted to play Monopoly. The tornado season lasted until June. Cyrus would only be in Stubbs Creek for so long.

His fingers circled her nipple.

 “Does that feel good?” he whispered. “What about this?” He changed his movement; now he was squeezing her nub between his thumb and index finger and she made soul-withering noises.

“Good God,” she moaned as she shifted her hips. “Cyrus,” she said, pulling his head down while her screen door thumped against the house. “I think I’m going to soar up into the sky tonight.”

“You won’t lose your house,” he said, taking her meaning literally as he glanced at the door. “I checked the Doppler while you were in the shower.” Then he got all scientific as he flopped her onto her back and positioned himself between her knees. As he pushed her legs apart he said, “There’s a fifty-five percent chance of a twister, give or take a deviation of five to ten percentage points.” He pulled her panties down to her knees.

Before she had a chance to gasp, his fingers were dancing their way up her inner thigh.

“How does this feel?” he asked, weaving his way between her folds. She kicked her underwear off to give him better access.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Do you like this, or”—he placed another finger against the junction between her legs—“this?”

She moaned and lifted her hips off the couch.

“What about you?” she asked, because she’d been trained to be a good wife. “Is there something I can do to make you happy?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, shifting her legs. “I want to give you this gift,” he said, moving his other hand into the action.

It wasn’t even her birthday. Without comment she felt his index finger enter her. She gasped because he hadn’t stopped the work on the outside. He continued to make her quiver, moving in and out, building pressure, pushing her towards an unknown edge.

“Slow or fast?” he demanded. Gone was the indecisive, fidgety boy she used to know.

“What?”

“Do you want—”

“Slow,” she whispered, pushing her hips against his hand while he clasped his teeth onto her nipple. Now, that was something new. She’d seen it in porn but she’d never been able to do it to herself. Not enough flexibility in her neck.

Before she could moan another groan she came. Hot, blinding, and wet. The release gushed out of her. She pushed his drenched fingers back.

“Oh my God,” she cried after her head reentered her body. “I got your jeans all wet.”

He tugged at her hips, preventing her from getting up.

“Don’t worry.” He pulled her against his chest. “Relax,” he whispered, lying next to her. “It’s natural. Ride the wave.”

She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin.

“I hope you don’t smell like sex when you’re out twister hunting tomorrow.”

He nudged her. “I hope I do. The guys will be jealous.”

“Nobody’s getting action among you Ph.D.s?” She nudged him back.

“What do you think?” He pressed his erection against her hip. “We’re nerds. Throw in six weeks of living in fifty square feet and you’ve got guys hard as a slide rule twenty-four seven.”

“What about a motel?” she asked, pulling at his pants. The damn zipper was stuck so she yanked and was rewarded with the most joyful penis she’d seen in a long time. No more dating forty-year-olds. Tiffany was done with fumbling hands and slacker erections.

“Woo-hoo,” she cheered just as the tornado siren went off. Then, “Dammit. Don’t I ever get a break?” she asked the gods. “Don’t I ever get a few moments of fulfilling penetration?”

“Fricking A, there’s a problem with my data,” Cyrus complained while pulling up his pants. Bryant was already coming down the hall as Tiffany jumped behind the couch.

“Hey, Bryant,” Cyrus said, climbing over the cushions. He reached for her son’s shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Show me your storm shelter.”

“We don’t have one.”

“What?” Cyrus swung his head towards Tiffany—thankfully she had her sweats on and T-shirt almost over her head. The bra would have to wait. “What do you mean, no shelter?”

“I’m not made of money,” she muttered as a sound like a freight train roared outside. Since she didn’t live anywhere near the tracks, it could only mean one thing. Her luck had run out—prayers and a sprinkler system made no difference. Plus it looked like Cyrus’s Doppler wasn’t going to help them either.

Cyrus pulled on her arm and grabbed Bryant’s hand. “To the Vortex Vehicle.”

While hunkered down surrounded by a tonnage of metal, Tiffany watched her cottage blow away, along with that forty-dollar bra. Probably the only thing of value she lost in the storm. After it was over, like Dorothy, Tiffany embarked on a journey. But instead of having the Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow at her side, she had Cyrus and Bryant.

Her soon-to-be husband found her heart through love, then her intelligence, because he insisted she go back to school. And to top it all off, he gave her the courage to demand sexual satisfaction. She just wished she hadn’t lost that bra because she would have liked to worn it on her honeymoon.

by Raven de Hart

Four a.m. Time to pack. So what if I already hit the snooze button two—three—five—a whole bunch of times? That didn’t make it any easier to drag my butt out of bed. Still, it was con day, and if I put off leaving much longer, I’d end up stuck in registration for three hours and miss my first panel—and there was no way in hell I was going to miss the Michio Kaku panel on string theory.

No way in hell.

Yeah, I go to cons—what can I say? Fantasy and sci-fi is where I fit in best. No, I’m not the weirdo who runs around in a cape and tights—

Well, not since I was fifteen, and that was more than five years ago, so I don’t think anyone would recognize me if a picture happened to crop up. A lot of people go to hob-knob with publishers and writers and that kind of thing. Sure, I can’t help but nerdgasm when they have some of the big-name guests. Case in point: I was up at four in the morning to make sure I didn’t miss Michio Kaku.

I packed most of my bags a few nights ago, and set my clock radio forward by a half-hour. Shit, that means I’m up at three thirty in the morning; I’d have enough time to run by the store for last-minute supplies.

I got into the shower straight away, just long enough to clean off any offending odors I gathered up in the night, and threw on a not-so-odiferous T-shirt and some jeans before I ran out the door. No point in waiting around. It just meant I’d be more likely to fall back asleep. Maybe my first stop should be Starbucks.

* * * *

Okay, I’m not the best at shopping for trips. I think I realized that somewhere between the eleventh and twelfth bags of beef jerky. Or maybe it was the gallon of chocolate milk. Don’t laugh; I like what I like, and I make enough money that I can afford to have the things I like without a whole bunch of stupid questions.

My last stop was pharmaceuticals. Allergy pills and condoms.

What? You don’t think these conventions are good places to get laid? 
You
 put fifteen hundred sexually deprived social outcasts in spandex and barbarian costumes and try to keep them from climbing each other. Not so unlikely now, is it? Besides, it’s not like I bought a whole box, just a three-pack. I’ve found it works out just fine. You meet a guy at the dance the first two nights and end with the desperate guy in the bathroom on the last day. Okay, so it’s not my first time making the circuits. It’s one weekend out of the year where I get to have hot, semi-kinky sex every day. Do you honestly think I’m not going to plan my attack routes?

When I got to the checkout counter, the little blond chick working the register—she was probably eight months into her pregnancy—gave me weird look after weird look. When she got to the condoms, well, let’s just say she did a piss-poor job of hiding her thoughts. I guess I can’t blame her, exactly. Thick, square Coke-bottle glasses, three boxes of allergy pills running through the checkout stand, and that kind of hair that only looks good if you don’t brush it for a month. I gave her a half smile.

“I’m going on a trip.”

“Whatever, chief.”

I’m pretty sure she told me what the total was, but I didn’t hear. I just ran it through on my card and got the hell out of there. I had what was left of a caramel macchiato and two hours of freeway time waiting for me.

* * * *

Front of the line, just the way I planned it. So what if registration didn’t open up for another three hours? Like hell I was going to move, now that I had such a prime position.

What I didn’t plan on was Rabbit. I met him a couple of cons ago. By met, I mean fucked in a bathroom stall, of course. Now he had another guy with him. He might have been a little younger, a little more muscular, a little blonder, a little preppier—okay, so the new guy was way cute. I still liked Rabbit more. Last time I saw him he was kind of gangly and his hair was way too short for his face, but he was adorkable, and it worked. Not this year. He still had the big, dorky glasses, pretty much the same as mine, but he’d filled out.

A lot.

Of course, there was no guarantee he would even talk to me. I started drinking with him in the bar last year, and I was totally ready to give him my, shall we say, fullest attention. That was before the cyborg. Rabbit went to the bathroom, a robo-beefcake walked in, and he was assimilating me not five minutes later.

“Noble?” He dragged the mystery blond guy towards me. At least he wasn’t pissed. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Like hell I’d miss this. Michio Kaku’s here this year.”

He pushed his glasses up. So fucking hot. Have I mentioned enough how cute he was? If not, I can say it more.

“I know, man.” He brought the other guy closer.

“This is…” He bit down on the corner of his top lip. “Hunter? Or Sergeant? Something weird and manly like that.”

“Zoom,” the guy said.

“Right, Zoom!”

A little weird, but then Noble and Rabbit weren’t exactly the most normal names.

“You don’t know his name?” I asked.

“Fuck, no.”

He sat down on the floor next to me and Zoom got dragged down with him. From the look on his face, it may well have been against his will. Rabbit said, “I just found him in the parking lot, thought he was cute, and invited him to stay with me this weekend.”

That was a change from the last time I saw him. Rabbit’s only really spontaneous response was—well, he didn’t have one, come to think of it. Zoom was frowning like he just put salt on his Cheerios.

“I thought we already covered this. I’m not interested,” he said.

It took us a few seconds, but Rabbit and I both ended up laughing. “What?” Zoom asked.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “That’s just what Rabbit told me right before we hooked up last year.”

“It wasn’t 
right
 before.” Rabbit looked super cute when he blushed. Fuck it all, I wanted him right there on the floor. Zoom could watch if he wanted. “You had to convince me a little bit.”

“Five minutes, tops.” I scoffed.

“Well, you can’t blame me. Sleeping with you is like a rite of passage around here.”

My turn to blush.

“So, are you sharing a room with someone?” he continued.

“With whomever I can.”

“Why don’t you cancel your reservation and bed up with us?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Zoom had his hands up in front of him, “I wasn’t exactly okay sharing a bed with you, but it’s a king-size and you’re paying, so I was cool with it. I don’t know about three of us.”

I laughed. “You’re so cute.”

Rabbit clapped him on the shoulder, “Chances are Noble’s not even going to be in the room longer than five minutes a day. I don’t even know why he bothers renting a hotel room every year.”

Okay, I’m weak. I admit that. Two cute guys, the chance to share a bed and a shower—I didn’t get my master’s degree by being an idiot.

“What the hell. I’m in.”

* * * *

We got registered and up to the room with time to spare before the string theory panel. It was nothing spectacular: no balcony, one giant bed, TV, mini-fridge, and a pretty sparse bathroom. Couldn’t complain too much; it was only a hundred bucks a night, and Rabbit and I were splitting the cost. I flopped down on the mattress and started munching down bag three of beef jerky. Bags one and two died tragically on the drive over. Zoom sat on the floor.

“Jerky?” I offered.

“Sure.” He took a hank of it, but didn’t eat it. “So is it true you come here just to have sex?”

“That’s not the only reason.” I smiled at him. “Why? Are you looking for some fun?”

“Not with you.”

“That’s fine.”

Rabbit slinked out of the bathroom, struggling to pull his shirt down over his freshly wet abs and pecs—I hadn’t seen a body quite like that outside of comic books. If I hadn’t known better, I may have thought that was what he had been aiming for—of course, he may have been, knowing Rabbit. “He’ll have more time for me.” He lay down on top of me and grabbed the bag of meat. He was sporting a pretty full bag of meat himself, from what I felt. “If I recall,” he said, “you owe me some time from last con.”

“Hey, if you saw the cyborg I left with, you wouldn’t blame me.”

“Who said I blamed you?” I grabbed him around the waist and wrestled to get on top. I had him pinned, and I wanted him even more. His face was flushed, hair still wet from the shower, and I had him under me. He gave me that damn look, too. Everyone had the same look when they wanted it. “We’re about to be late for Michio Kaku,” he said.

“So?”

He squirmed away. That little fucker probably could have gotten out any time he wanted.

“You might be okay with that, but it’s fucking Michio Kaku. He’s the one who made science cool again.”

He had a very visible stirring in his loins, but still went right for the door. I sighed.

* * * *

After the string theory panel, I’m pretty sure I knew even less about quantum mechanics than when I went in. I blame Rabbit; he was so not ready to stop toying with me, and I couldn’t even do anything to stop him. Not without notifying God, the world, and Michio 
fucking
 Kaku that the guy next to me was playing with my junk. You can imagine how ready I was on the way back to the room. I consider it an amazing display of self-control that I didn’t cream myself in the middle of the hallway.

We got back, but he went straight into the bathroom and shut the door. I think it was his way of getting revenge for the cyborg incident. I caught sight of a skinny little space pirate and almost went after him, but Rabbit grabbed me by the back of the belt just as I made my first step towards the booty,

“Not so fast, Noble.”

He threw me on the bed before I had the chance to see he was naked.

I noticed when he climbed on top of me, and I sure as fuck noticed when his cock started bouncing off my chin. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Good thing too, considering I’m a theoretical physicist.

“We didn’t even close the door,” I said.

“Don’t go getting stage fright on me now.”

I really didn’t have too much of a choice. He was pushed forward, running pre-come up my chin and through my lips. His shaft pressed in further, the head hot against the back of my throat. It had been quite a long time since I ended up in this position but it’s not like I was about to fight it. I sucked back. Rabbit immediately groaned. His hands rubbed along my chest and belly, bunching my shirt up around my neck. I clawed into his ass, kneading the soft cheeks.

He started thrusting now, filling my whole mouth. Every breath I took overflowed with the musk of his bush. He pinched my nipples, twisting them, and I stopped sucking. I couldn’t help it. Nipple twisting is my Kryptonite.

It didn’t slow him up a bit. He pulled out of my mouth, wet cock resting cool against my chest and neck, and slid down. Damn, he was good at this! I took my shirt off myself (not like it was doing me much good anyway, right?). I watched his hands work with my jeans. He unfastened the silvery belt buckle, clearing the belt loops so fast it burned my back a little. His fingers pressed against my crotch as he fumbled with the button, sending little lasers of fire and ice into my spine.

“What the fuck!” I just caught Zoom beating feet back out the door. “You couldn’t have at least closed the door?”

I looked down at Rabbit, wrapping my fingers into his long hands.

“Let’s have some fun with him.” I got up, leaving everything but my boxers behind. Zoom was in too much shock to really struggle against me, crotch tent or otherwise. Of course, he started to squirm once I got him through the threshold, but like hell he was strong enough to pull out of my grip.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I really do.” He turned and ran face first into a still naked and still rock-hard Rabbit. “I don’t care if 
you
 have sex, but leave me out of it, all right?”

Rabbit pointed down. Zoom was bulged out against his zipper.

“Tell your cock that.” I laughed.

He flushed.

“I’m nervous, damn it!”

“Then take a load off.” I gave him a little push and he toppled into the center of the bed. Rabbit and I sandwiched him in place. “You don’t have to be gay to enjoy getting head, you know.”

Rabbit unzipped him—so what if I felt a little pang of jealousy? I had him first, after all. Turns out Zoom went commando: a nice, meaty shaft sprung out, the tip purple and glistening with pre-come. Rabbit went right to work, giving me a little look. When he had the majority of Zoom’s cock swallowed down, the blond man whimpered a little bit, muttering,

“Fuck, yeah.”

I dropped my underwear, casting one more quick glance at the door. Rabbit may have been an exhibitionist, but I wasn’t. Well, not as much as he was, at any rate. I went to my bag. I heard a pretty massive moan from behind me. Rabbit knew how to blow, I could attest to that.

I got my box of condoms, ribbed textured for Rabbit’s sake, and slipped one on. If I didn’t hurry, I’d probably miss the whole thing. The wrapper fell to the floor in my haste to get lubed up. I don’t even know what I grabbed; I just knew it was slick and shiny. Given that logic, it could have been salad oil. Or ectoplasm.

When I got back in line, I gave Rabbit one good slap on the ass. He squealed like a little dog, pulling off Zoom’s cock for a few seconds. I spanked him again, the soft cheeks giving way under my palm. Damn, it felt right. I spread his cheeks, exposing the little ring of muscles. He had a little smattering of red hair, but the skin was mostly smooth and pale.

I slid my cock into the gap, resting the tip right against his hole. It tightened up visibly just from the threat of penetration. I pressed forward a little, and he loosened up pretty much straight away. He was probably used to this. I got in without much difficulty on my end at all. Of course, he’d stopped moving. I ran my hands along his back, tracing the warm, shallow pockets formed by his bones. The sharp peaks of his shoulder blades, the corrugated spine, the tender curve at the small of his back—I’m not even sure how I lasted that long. As I thrust into him, my fingertips found purchase in the divots of his pelvis, tickling against his sex lines and down against his balls. He quivered, goose pimples rising up all along his flesh. As I moved up, his abs pressed back into my hands with every breath, chilling my blood. I got to the point where I was leaning flat against his back, hands knotted into his hair, our bodies rising and falling in unison. He clenched back against my shaft, doing his level best to drain me fast. He almost did it, too, but I held back.