Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds (8 page)

Good thing as Zoom started bucking, shaking the whole chain with each thrust not long after. Rabbit didn’t stick around, straightening us both out. He walked me backwards, sitting us in the chair and driving my cock just that much further inside of him. Come streamed out of Zoom’s cock, the deep purple tip twitching as the seed flew up onto his T-shirt.

I wrapped my hands over Rabbit’s cock, jacking him. He started to bounce, his hard tailbone riding against my stomach. Damn it, this felt good, having a threesome on my first day. That was a new record. His coppery-red hair tickled my neck and face, fluttering against me with each bounce.

Something warm trickled down my hand—he’d shot off. I wouldn’t have known otherwise—bless him, he was still riding me like the dickens. I gave myself over and it wasn’t long before the warm, all-encompassing sensation radiated out of my balls, vibrating the core of my body. One twitch, two twitches, and a groan struggling out of my throat. My toes curled, which didn’t happen very often anymore before I shot off. Come dripped down the condom, the lack of airflow keeping it warm against my shaft.

I patted Rabbit on the back a couple of times and he got off, walking like well, like somebody just fucked him in the ass, I guess. He flopped on the bed, spreading himself out across Zoom, who was already asleep.

Men.

“Was it good for you?”

Rabbit smiled, running a finger across Zoom’s shirt and smearing come across the fabric. “I’ve been waiting two years. What the 
fuck
 do you think?”

I got up and joined him on the bed, peeling the condom away and tossing it in the trash. “Were you always this big, or did you, you know, grow?”

I don’t know why the hell I was skirting around the subject. I just screwed him and I was acting like his cock was some kind of taboo subject. He laughed it off.

“Yeah, I was.” He whipped his shaft around in a circle. “Maybe you’ll find out how big it really is later.”

He stalked back into the bathroom, pale, smooth ass cheeks swaying with each step. So hot, I thought about it. I didn’t bottom at cons, never had.

Then again—

by Robyn Avalon

“Oh yeah, big man, give me that kitty cat cable! Give it to me now!”

Martin sighed and released the bra strap he held between his teeth. “It’s a CAT5 cable, not a kitty cat cable, Lynette, and they aren’t stiff.”

He pressed his chest against her back, holding her against him as she balanced a knee on a cheap computer chair. He nearly fell into the new printer when she whirled the chair around to face him, her D-cups trembling from the strain of holding back her ample, round breasts.

“What?”

His eyes were glued to the soft movements of her nipples as they rose and fell with her breathing, her over-teased blond hair threatening each one with shellacked curls. Her stomach was so flat he could have rolled a ten-sided die across it, although the roll would have stopped at the edge of her thong. Just thinking about the smooth mound underneath did several damage points to his self-control.

“Um, it would be appropriate to mention a cascading baystack patch cable, although that would be on the pitifully narrow scale,” he said.

She pouted and sighed heavily, causing his head to bob.

“Hey, I’m just trying to pay you for fixing my printer.”

With one manicured hand, she reached out and unzipped his khakis, tugging them over the bulge in his underwear.

“I also owe you for installing my new webcam,” she whispered, wheeling her chair closer and hooking her fingers along his waistband, sliding them toward the shag carpet. Just as he finished the thought about being so glad he wasn’t wearing his
Incredible Hulk
boxers, she went down faster than the Internet during a lightning storm.

Her lips brushed against the head of his cock, her dusty pink gloss leaving swirls of graffiti along his swollen skin. He reached down and stroked a lock of her blond hair as she took him inside her mouth and swirled her tongue around the head, causing him to grab the edge of the desk. Around and over, her tongue slid across his delicate tip and when he was literally dizzy with desire, she swallowed him in one smooth movement. He bucked involuntarily against her as she drew him in and out in long, slow strokes, causing Martin to completely forget all networking except for the one throbbing cable connecting him to her warm, sucking mouth. His breath quickened when they locked eyes.

He held her gaze as he picked up the pace, sliding faster across her tongue, her lips, until he felt the moment building. She noticed, too, and popped his dick out just as he came across the top of her breasts. They were still hiding behind the tiny lace panels of her bra, and he felt a little disappointed in spite of the blow job.

Lynette stood up and grabbed a wet wipe from an all-too-handy container by the bed. He pulled up his pants as she swabbed come from her chest, and glanced at the shiny new webcam pointed at her bed. Had he turned it off?

“Well, hell, I’m going to have to throw this in the wash.” She glanced down at her bra, then reached behind, unsnapping it. Two factory-perfect breasts bounced out, their nipples pointing straight at his crotch. His hand hesitated on the button along his waistband, but Lynette turned and slid the bra off, making it clear his payment was final.

Brushing a lock of auburn hair out of his face, he grabbed his shoes and headed into the living room toward the door.

“Thanks, I, um, had a nice time,” he said, raising his voice so she could hear him above the water running in the bathroom.

She wandered into the living room wrapped in a short, frilly robe and plopped down into a chair.

“I hope so,” she said with a wink. “I like having my own pet computer nerd.”

Shutting the door a tad harder than he intended, Martin couldn’t decide whether he was grateful for the sex or insulted by the comment. As he unlocked his own apartment two doors down, he decided he was just hungry and this seemed like a perfect night for Hot Pockets and coding a new Java mod for his Minecraft server.

The next morning, Brett sniffed as he entered the IT department of Frosthill Industries, following a line of desks and workbenches to the nearest station near his boss’s door.

“Uh-oh, someone must be in a foul mood. I smell solder.” He grinned as he stuffed his backpack under his desk, his flaming hair fanning like a redbird’s wing as he bent down.

“This PCI card has been on the shelf for weeks,” replied Martin as he hunched over the component, his tie coming perilously close to the hot tip of the solder gun while he worked.

Brett leaned in the door, his hand resting on the knob. “A man with a virtual alphabet following his name should know we can afford to buy a new PCI card and not fix junk. Or is it your own junk you’re trying to fix? Didn’t that hot neighbor of yours need some, ahem, technical support this weekend?”

A brief swirl of smoke floated upward as Martin’s tie inevitably made contact with the solder gun.

“Dammit!” he shouted as he patted his tie out, and slipped the solder gun back into its spiral holder. “First of all, you don’t get all those certifications if you can’t fix a simple piece of hardware. This card is a challenge from the universe and I don’t back away from a challenge.”

A wide smile spread across Brett’s face. “So you bombed with the easy lay? For shame. You know the PEBKAC rule.”

The tie fell into the trash, following many other ties before as Martin smoothed down his white shirt and the tight abs underneath.

“Problem exists between keyboard and chair? Duh.”

“No, bro, pussy exists between keyboard and chair. Get your priorities straight.”

Martin shelved the card on the rack behind his desk.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she blew me and blew me off. Besides, she has all the intelligence of a fiddler crab hit by space debris.”

Brett waggled his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t matter. Had sex.” He mimed his “O” face for Martin while humping the door frame.

The phone rang, and Martin leaned over to answer it.

“No challenge. She’s just one notch above a blow-up doll,” he said as he picked up the receiver. “IT department, this is Martin. Okay, where did you save it? What network are you on? What does it say? What’s the name of the file? Do you know how to get there? Just a moment, I’ll send someone up.” He turned to his junior employee, who was still doing the worst pole dance ever against the doorjamb.

“Hey, before you get splinters in your dick, go up to the twelfth floor and show Linda how to log onto our own wireless network. Right now she’s logged into the coffee shop’s wireless next door and doesn’t understand why she can’t access her files on our own secured server.”

“Don’t forget we’re going to the con this weekend,” Brett said as he thrust his way like a rutting bull across the main room to the elevator. “You know you enjoy the cosplayers, especially those latex Catwomen, all strapped up and one place to go.”

Martin examined his door. “Yeah, yeah. When you’re done, get back here and clean this door frame,” he said. “You made it all sweaty and gross.” He looked sideways at it. “At least, I hope that’s sweat.”

* * * *

That weekend, dozens of Slave Princess Leias in every size, shape, color, and sex mingled in the convention center lobby, along with a smattering of every genre a fan boy could dream up. Klingons and Predators were comparing costume tips in the solarium, while a gaggle of anime characters were heading into the dealers’ room. Martin looked around for Brett, shrugged and followed them, hoping to score an original Mego Kirk figure or maybe the missing pieces for his Playmates Enterprise-D bridge set.

After fifteen minutes, he was loaded down with bags and enough action figures to keep the collectibles closet in his apartment happy for a long, long time. Two Klingon females snarled suggestively at him as he passed, their fake-tanned bosoms nearly popping out of real leather costumes. He kept his gaze downward and continued walking; they took their play a little too seriously, and he didn’t want to make an E.R. visit for bite marks this year.

“Hey, watch it!”

He looked up, but his armload of bags had already swept several crocheted TARDIS toilet paper covers off a table. The girl behind the table caught two time-traveling police boxes in one hand and reached for their companions scattered across the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping his load to pick up a flattened TARDIS that was stepped on by a rogue Stormtrooper.

She looked up, her brown eyes framed by the edge of the table and the two-sizes-too-big hat she wore.

“Ass-clown.”

Martin picked up the remaining crafts and set them on the table beside their squashed comrade.

“No, really. I wasn’t looking. Let me pay for this one.”

As she rose from the floor, he realized she was wearing possibly the ugliest sweater vest he had ever seen, and with his friends, that was saying something. The only saving grace was the cream-colored man’s jacket over the top of it.

She glared at him.

“Okay.”

After he handed her a twenty-dollar bill, she reached for the flat TARDIS, fluffed it out to its original shape, and slipped it into one of his bags. “Thanks for your business.”

“Hey, wait a minute, it wasn’t really broken? Why did you let me pay for it?”

She tilted her head, and a lock of long dark hair escaped the pins under her hat, sliding down the ivory skin of her neck.

“The money wasn’t for the item. It was a standard dumbass charge for ruining my display and scaring off my customers,” she said.

Martin blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called him a dumbass. When it sank in, he looked up with a witty retort on his lips, but she had already thrown a sheet over the table and was heading out of the dealers’ room to the bar.

“Wait!” He followed her, zigzagging through the crowd. She was easy to follow since she wore baggy pants matching the atrocious jacket while every other female within thirty feet had their asses clad in skintight latex, tights, or booty shorts.

A screwdriver was already lining a napkin with a frosty kiss on the bar when he caught up to her. He slid onto the stool next to her.

“You called me a dumbass. Nobody does that.”

She laughed, and more hair slipped out the back of her hat. “I’ll bet more do than you realize.” She took a deep drink of her screwdriver and sighed. “You seem like a nice but clueless fanboy. Go chase some Leias around the party suite upstairs and you’ll feel better. “

“I’m not clueless. By the way, who the hell are you supposed to be?” Martin motioned for a beer.

“I’m the Seventh Doctor.” The screwdriver dropped another half inch.

“Who?”

The glare came back, accompanied by its close friend sarcasm.

“Oh please. You know I’m cosplaying Sylvester McCoy.”

“You look like Colonel Blake from
M*A*S*H
.”

Her eyes raked him up and down. “And you look the guy from
The I.T. Crowd
.” She paused. “With better hair.”

“That’s funny, because I’m supposed to be the I.T. guy from
Jurassic Park
.” Martin flashed his best grin.

A laugh bubbled up from the submerged end of her straw. “That’s good.” She held out her hand. “Kate.”

“Martin.” He shook her hand gently. “And I’m sorry for upsetting your TARDIS cart. Do you make those for a living?”

Kate snorted. “No, they’re a hobby of mine, along with building device drivers for Ubuntu and creating TARDIS mods for Minecraft.”

“Kate?”

She looked up from her drink, her lips wet with orange juice and vodka.

“I think I love you.”

Hopping down from her barstool, she pressed her keycard in his hand. “Good enough.”

* * * *

It took three tries before Martin finally opened the door to Kate’s room, mainly because she was running her fingernails up his legs and over his ass. Once they were inside, he dumped the bags and the keycard, whirling on her like a wild animal. She held up a finger, slowly unpinning the hat from her head, shaking loose a thick mane of dark waist-long hair. Before the hat hit the ground, his hands roamed her soft curves, his lips covering hers in a deep kiss. She held up her arms so he could pull off her sweater vest.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” He growled as he struggled with her necktie, loosening it so he could kiss her neck.

“Ask the BBC,” she said as she unbuttoned her crisp white shirt, revealing pert breasts in a plain blue bra. She playfully pushed him away while she pulled the tie from her neck and slipped out of her trousers, showing off a matching set of blue panties.

He quickly undressed, dropping his button up shirt and khakis to the floor before sitting on the bed. She leaned in close. He breathed in the vanilla perfume dabbed between her breasts as he reached around and unsnapped her bra. Before she could drop it, he covered her left nipple with his mouth. Her sharp inward breath popped the nipple out of his mouth, and he kissed it gently while caressing her ass.

“Kate, tell me about your Minecraft mod,” he said in between kisses.

“Now?” Her hands were on his shoulders as she sank into his caresses.

“Mm-hm.” He slowly flicked his tongue across her right nipple, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I took the airplane mod and oh,” she said as he slowly licked the underside of her breast, “I added code so I could move around in a big blue box instead…ah.” He slid his fingers underneath her panties, stroking her pussy as he sucked her nipples. Her hips bucked against him as he pulled the cotton fabric to the floor, exposing a neatly trimmed square of pubic hair.

“So, is it bigger on the inside?” He slid his hands up her thighs.

“You tell me.” She stepped away, tugging at his underwear. He immediately obliged, rising off the bed so she could free his rigid cock. It sprang up, ready for her touch. She stroked it once and felt it pulse in her hand.

“Do you want something wild? Something naughty? Something you’ve never had before?” Her soft brown eyes now had a wicked gleam as she grasped his dick.

“God, yes,” he said. In a flash, she had one of his shopping bags upturned on the bed, scattering packages of action figures. Pulling out a vintage 1977 Luke Skywalker package, she held the corner in her teeth and opened it, throwing Luke onto the bed.