I put all my stories in Humor and Satire. I like to write romantic comedies, or as other authors here call it comic romance. But I put them in Humor because they are meant to be comic and light hearted, even if they contain scifi and fantasy, or group sex, or mind control, or whatever. I also realize that some of the categories are to allow people to avoid topics, so if I ever write comic incest or comic non-consensual I will make sure to put them in those topics to warn the reader.
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My name is David Williams. Gordon Shepherd is my best friend and I have known him since we were college roommates at Cal Tech. We were both Math majors, and although I look like what I am, a computer nerd, Gordon looks like a GQ model. Gordon is handsome, with a fun, outgoing personality, and was always smooth with the ladies since the first day I met him. And at a place like Cal Tech, you can imagine how he stood out. I, on the other hand, fit the nerd profile exactly. Skinny, non-athletic, glasses, and really, really shy. If I had it my way, I would have stayed in my room for the whole 4 years. Somehow Gordon and I really bonded. Underneath those GQ looks, he had a really sharp brain, although his focus was more applied math than my focus on theoretical math. We stayed roommates all through college.
Gordon spent most of his freshman year knee deep in pussy. He would be seen around campus with all the hot girls at CalTech (not that many) and tons of girls from UCLA (I have no clue how they kept showing up with him on campus. There must have been a shuttle bus or something). I spent a lot of that year in the library, not in my room, sock on the door and all. Luckily CalTech's main library is 24/7, and by my second semester I also had keys to the AI lab and a couple of other places to retreat and study. When Gordon and I hung out, I would coax him in to telling me his exploits. Gordon wasn't bragging, I lived vicariously through them and really wanted to hear about it. Many of the girls that I saw Gordon with became a focus of my frequent manual excursions into auto-erotica.
But Gordon was a good friend and made it his college mission to get me laid. I don't know if I mentioned it, but I was really, really shy. I was 6 sigma shy in the already socially retarded atmosphere which was the male portion of the CalTech freshman class. Forget pussy. In high school, I had never so much as touched a girl. No dating. No kiss. No nothing.
In college, same ol' same ol'. Not that I didn't see a lot of pussy. One night staying in our place while Gordon entertained was equal to a week of Internet porn surfing. By our second year Gordon and I shared an apartment just off campus, so the sock came off the doorknob permanently and I stayed in to study and work even when Gordon came back to the apartment with company. And Gordon was always careful to steer the extra hard-bodies my way. He was always getting his "friends" to ask me to make Gordon's threesome into a foursome. I became adept at politely saying No Thank You to drunken Swedish twins trying to take off my pants. I had fearsome social issues and I couldn't get myself to say Yes Thank You. Subconsciously I didn't believe I deserved to have sex and feared I was making the girl uncomfortable, even when she was naked and trying to pull me into the orgy in the living room. Nowadays I can't believe how pathetic I was, although I can still feel the echoes of that fear inside.
And I stayed unfucked, despite Gordon's best efforts, all the way through graduation. Gordon went to Stanford to pick up his MBA and I followed to Palo Alto to pick up a quick double doctorate in Math and Computer Science.
When I graduated I had several papers and a couple of patents in neural networking, and synthetic logic. I was courted by all the big boys, but I decided to be employee #4 in a little company in Greater LA with a funny name. Jarvis.
4 years later and Jarvis was on every smart phone worthy of the name. "Jarvis please tell me the best sushi in town." "Jarvis please phone the dentist and get me an appointment when I have an opening." "Jarvis please remember to send flowers to my Mom on her birthday". Jarvis Industries, stealing (and then buying for stock options) the name of the AI personal servant to Iron Man, finally made AI work the way people expected AI to work. Every man, woman and child all had their own executive secretary in their pocket, able to directly interface with the other Jarvis' in everyone else's pocket. Jarvis ran our lives.
After only a year on the job at Jarvis, I could see where we were headed and got Gordon in as the #64 employee and the 2nd guy in Marketing. Two years later Jarvis had over 2,000 employees, and both Gordon and I were very well off, options-wise.
But even through all our success, Gordon still had a mission to complete. By then I was 29 and still never been kissed/dated/fucked/blown/[your sexual goal here]. He kept dragging me out to singles bars, industry mixers, and any kind of social group. I went on "double dates" where he arranged both girls. I always managed to leave in the middle and not finish out the date (of course, Gordon would always pick up my slack and finish both of them later that night). In one of those "Co-ed Adventure" groups that Gordon kept dragging me to, I met Courtney.
Courtney was way out of my league. Heck who am I kidding, any librarian is way out of my league. Courtney was way out of my species. Courtney was special. Now she was a high-income sales professional for a German robotics company. In high school and college (UCLA) she was a high-jumper , but not in the top ranks. All high jumpers are "cut high" and she had impossibly long, sleek legs. They made her almost as tall as I was, and that was without heels. With heels she was taller than me. After college she kept fit by her passion, dance. She had taken years of ballet as a young girl. But in her teens, her hopes of going further were met with the facts of life, or for her, the facts of hormones. She bloomed, and kept right on blooming out of ballet. Tall girls make great ballerinas, but not with D cups.
She had the hot bod with her long legs and great tits, But her best attribute was her face. Model perfect, with green eyes that had gold specks. Her damn eyes were hypnotic. Definitely a 10 or at least a high 9, and that was on the California scale.
And somehow that made it easy for me to talk to her. No chance to succeed meant no chance to fail meant no stress for me. And for Courtney, she got hit on by every guy she met, which meant that she had a void for "male-friend" which I filled since I never even thought to flirt. Actually, I didn't know how to flirt. We became adventure buddies and were always paired up in the kayak or the sailplane or the belay. And strangely enough Gordon completely struck out with her. Which was not common for Gordon as your typical handsome, young, articulate, multimillionaire in Los Angeles. But he soon saw she was becoming my friend and backed off. Later, through me, Gordon also became a friend to Courtney. And as soon as they started talking as friends, Gordon brought up his long-held mission. Courtney was fascinated at Gordon's attempt to get me a girl. It was "Challenge Accepted".
And instead of just throwing hot bodies at me, Courtney took the route of instructing me how to be a "player" or at least a guy. She dragged me to exercise classes, which for her was yoga and spinning and dance. For Courtney, that meant hot Bikram yoga classes. Which in LA means hot Nude Bikram Yoga classes. She helped me start to feel comfortable with my body. She shopped with me and worked on my grooming.
Also, for some reason I found it easier to talk to Courtney about sex than I did with anyone else, even easier than with Gordon. She clinically taught me how to do foreplay, eating pussy, fuck, everything. All with the slant of pleasing the girl. And all by only using the Internet and talking me through things. No touchee. Actually somehow that didn't even occur to me. Courtney wasn't in my fantasies. She was my buddy.
She taught me how pick up girls, from a girl's perspective. And then took me out to clubs and role-played. And then she became my wing man. Let me tell you, having a supermodel as a wing man works wonders. Soon I had dates, and kisses and even...sex!! And I recounted all my exploits to Courtney and Gordon. They both encouraged me and provided post-game analysis.
After a few months Gordon took all three of us out to a very fancy restaurant to celebrate my going into double digits in bedpost notches. We drank and ate and laughed. We went clubbing and finally ended up in a swingers party on the beach in Malibu. Gordon attracted his usual harem which he pounded. Courtney also racked up the studs. I even fucked a few nubiles in front of Gordon and Courtney. Gordon and I actually DP'd this amazing girl from Cirque de Soleil. I was now officially a guy.
Even though the party had wound down, I couldn't sleep. It was dawn and Gordon was passed out in the big party room sleeping among a group of girls from Reykjavik that I met last night. Courtney was no where to be seen. So I found my pants (or somebody's pants that looked like mine), rolled up the cuffs and went walking in the surf. About a mile down the beach I spotted Courtney in a t-shirt and running shorts sitting in the sand, looking out to the sea. She didn't hear me and I watched her. She looked sad. It looked like she had been crying.
"Courtney, what's wrong", I sat down beside her.
She turned around and started sobbing and then BANG. She hauled off and slapped me hard. Then she got up and ran. I ran after her, but Courtney being a former track athlete I couldn't catch her. Luckily the beach started having small smooth boulders about the size of basketballs embedded in the sand. Luckily I tripped. Luckily my head hit a rock and knocked me out cold.
When I opened my eyes I saw Courtney's beautiful eyes looking worriedly at me. I was lying on the ground with Courtney kneeling over me. Her hand was stroking my cheek.
"What happened?"
"You tripped and hit your head on that rock underneath your head."
"Earlier on the beach...why were you crying?"
