Sex Club for Nerds and Gees

Man you are GOOD! From zero to bed in under eight hours!

She's probably with Charlie now, laughing hysterically at how easily you fell for it. Won't say "fuck!" Doesn't emote when she cums! Only ever fucked one guy! — "He lapped it up! Man, is he gullible!"

You'll never see her again. Crap.

I uploaded the 43 best shots from the concert to Flickr and sent a link to Charlie, asking him to tell the others about them. Then I uploaded a different file for Martha of the ones I'd taken with her on Friday night and the originals of the pictures she'd used on her Facebook page. I included a cheery note.

As I stripped the bed, I realized that the sheets really did reek of sex. Condoms keep things neat, but the sweat and the juices leave their scent.

Simple lubrication, nothing fancy. I bought a box of 48 lubricated condoms and retired the dry ones to the back of my socks drawer.

By two I'd run all my errands and had re-made the bed. Since I'd turned off my cell before I picked up Martha for dinner last night, I wasn't surprised that I had messages.

There were four: Chrissy (reporting that grandma's husband had a small heart attack but was okay, no need to call); and one each from Anna, Margery, and Carrie.

"He's pretty good," said Chrissy when she answered. "They'd gone to bed early and about six-thirty they woke up and were fucking" — she slipped this in so matter-of-factly I almost missed it — "when he grabbed his chest. The ambulance got there real fast. He was in ICU for about six hours, and he's gonna be okay. Dad's really relieved."

I called Dad and got essentially the same information about his mother's husband. Minus the fucking part.

Anna's call was more prosaic: what time is the first interview on Monday. I called and left a voice mail that it's at nine.

Margery had called just after noon, wanting to talk business over dinner tonight. Carrie had called just after Margery, please call back.

"Hi Carrie. Who won the game?"

"We did. I went three-for-four. But that's not why I called."

"What's up?"

"You free for lunch?"

"Sure, but it's after two."

"Doesn't matter. I'll bring wraps. Twenty minutes?"

She strode into the apartment with the food and two bottles of sparkling water, plunked everything down on the coffee table, and planted a volcanic kiss on my face.

"I have an itch that needs scratching," she said, massaging my cock through my shorts when we broke for air.

"Backscratcher's in here," I gasped as we moved to the bedroom.

I pulled her t-shirt up and was presented with a new bra, front-loading, which I popped as she dropped her shorts and panties. As I sucked the nipple of her left breast she worked my zipper down and had everything at my feet as I helpfully pulled my shirt up and off.

"Bed. Now. C'mon!"

She was on her back, legs spread, arms extended, with lust in her eyes as I slobbed my cock and scooted into position. I was in on the second stroke and we started.

"Fuck me, c'mon man, fuck me, I want everything you've got! C'mon now, faster, faster, oh god that's it! Faster! Faster! FASTER! Oh yeah, so good, FASTER, HARDER, YEAHHHHH! OH GODDDDD!"

I was pumping furiously as soon as I entered her. She was the focus of her lust, my cock had no direction but to soak her pussy with everything my balls could deliver. We crashed into each other as she pulled me against her with her steel-band legs and her heels in my ass.

"ARGGG! Oh god I'm cumming, cummmming, oh yeah oh yeah, OOOOOOH FUUUUCK!"

"I'm gonna, oh god yes, yes, you're making me cum, oh I'm cummmming too oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUUUUUK!"

We collapsed in a sweaty pile, my cock still in her, as we gasped for air in each other's ears.

"I missed you too," I was finally able to say.

She ran her hand idly down my side and sighed as my cock slid out. I kissed her face and licked the sweat from her forehead as I brushed the matted hair away. She was grinning from ear to ear.

After I cleaned us up and swabbed the sheets, we sat on the sofa to eat. She had thoughtfully gotten a towel and laid it under her to catch the cum.

"God, I really needed that," she said, then sat back and folded her legs under her. Her wide-open pussy, swinging breasts, her cascading blond hair, and the leaking cum were getting me hard again.

"It's been a rough week. I started working out with a trainer at the gym on strengthening my throwing arm. Turns out it's more complicated than that, so I've got sessions scheduled three times a week.

"I'm gonna have to pay attention to my two classes, which aren't as easy as I was hoping.

"And SOL wants me to manage the food concession they won at the 'Olympics' the university is doing for the rest of the summer session. They're doing all these participation events in the afternoons, after classes — ultimate Frisbee, softball tournaments, stuff like that. Big deal, lots of players, lots of spectators, I'll make really good money, so I can give up everything but weekends at SOL for the summer and still come out ahead.

"But I am over-scheduled.

"So you are my relief." And she reached for my cock.

I cupped my hands into a megaphone. "Virgin! Shy virgin! Aisle 3! We found the missing shy virgin!"

She snorted and smacked my shoulder with her free hand as she jacked me.

"No more, she's history. I have a lot of catching up to do." She bent and took my cock in her mouth.

I lay back on the couch and let it happen. Her ponytail had disappeared as we'd fucked, so all I could see was this mass of blonde hair bobbing as she sucked and jacked. She had my balls in one hand and was holding my cock with the other, and she hummed to a tune only she could hear.

She's gotten a lot better. Practice. George must have spent some time on this.

She got me nearly to the edge, then popped off but kept jacking, slowly.

"You want to cum now, or do you want to play?"

"How much time do we have before you leave for work?"

"Gotta be there by 5:30. It's after three now. How about I finish blowing you and then we fuck?"

"Only if you hit me with three Viagras."

"You're good for four cums in one day, I've been there." Her stroking slowed.

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were gonna drop by, so I, uh, helped myself last night and again this morning. Ohhhh that is soooo nice."

She dropped down on my cock, bobbed a couple of time, then resumed stroking.

"So this is it?"

"I think so. You have this ability to get stuff out of me I didn't know I had, but we're pushing it. Oh goddddd, that is so gooood," I moaned, licking my lips as I felt myself getting closer.

"Then it's lap-dance time," she said, and in one movement she was on me. One more shift and she had me inside her.

Her pussy muscles had gotten stronger since the last time we'd fucked (

thanks again, George

). She rotated her hips slowly as I played with her clit. The flush rose from her bush to her shoulders and she ground on my cock, watching me for signs of how close I was.

"Slowly, please slowly, I'll cum, I want to make you cum, just take it slooow, please," I begged.

She slowed her pace but she was getting closer, I could see it in her eyes. I worked her clit faster and pinched the more sensitive nipple.

"Now, let's cum, c'mon Carrie, FUCK me, I'm gonna cum, oh god, I'm CUUUUUUMING!" and I arched my hips.

She humped hard against my cock and I felt her pussy muscles trying to control me. Her hair swirled so wildly around her face that I couldn't see her eyes as she leaned forward.

"You are such a good fuck, you're making me CUUUUUMMMM!" She jerked erect, hammered my cock with her pussy, then collapsed on me, limp and breathing hard.

As her breasts hit my chest, I bucked so hard she almost flew off my cock. I grabbed her hips and got in three more thrusts before I was completely spent and just sagged backwards.

When I recovered, my cock was shriveled, the cum was drying, and there was a cooling pool on my balls. I was as limp as a dishrag.

I kissed her closed eyes open.

"Wanna go again?" I bluffed.

"The only place you're going to is the showers." We untangled ourselves and staggered to the bathroom, where she spotted the shower cap.

"For me?"

"The only one larger was in the raincoat section. Yeah, you shouldn't go to work with wet hair. It's a dead giveaway that you've just, eh, you know —"

"Just been fucked?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's your personal business, nobody else needs to know."

We luxuriated as the warm water hit our bodies. "Last week, after we did it, I went to work and they teased me. 'Cah-rrie's gott-en lay-yed, Cah-rrie's gott-en lay-yed,' they chanted. I was mortified! But one of the older waitresses stood up for me.

" 'And got laid good, from the looks of her. You guys should do one-tenth as well. Leave her the fuck alone.' I was walking funny all night, and afterward she and I sat and talked.

" 'Don't let 'em get to you,' she said. 'It's just barroom razzing. The girls are jealous, since most of 'em can't keep boyfriends because of the crazy hours. Working nights really fucks up your love life. So keep him happy.' "

We soaped each other. I was too wrecked to even try to turn her on.

Not Carrie. Despite my warning that I had nothing more, she started jacking me. She only gave up when I stood there and couldn't even deliver a spasm.

She kissed me hard, got dressed, and bustled out the door.

*

"Hi, Margery." I was doing my best imitation of energetic. "Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner."

"That's okay. Did you see Carrie?"

I was startled. "Uh, yeah, she just left."

"No wonder you sound wiped out," she smirked through the phone.

"I am, and we have six interviews tomorrow, starting at nine. If I nose-dive into the control panel, I'll crash the project. I have to get some sleep. Can we do dinner tomorrow night?"

"Sure, no rush. I just wanted to catch up on what's going on."

"Thanks. Union? Six?"

"Italian."

*

There has got to be a regime for recovering from this kind of weekend. Yeah, eleven hours of sleep and no masturbation. Not that you've got anything left.

In the morning, I followed my usual morning routine: send email reminders to the next day's interviewees early, make a list of phone numbers for reminder calls during the day, and check the cloud to be sure all the uploaded interviews are still there.

By 8:45 I'd eaten a hearty breakfast at the union and was in the lab.

"You look rested. Get any over the weekend?"

"More than any six men deserve," I teased back. She grinned and we got to work.

The week was going to be busy. Of the 39 interview slot (seven on weekdays, four on Saturday), we had 30 booked.

"That's gonna be intense. Follow me closely, see if you can handle this. I am going to have absolutely no sense of humor left by Wednesday afternoon."

If Don and Anna wanted me to try the role of interviewer, I'd give it a try. Anna had made a copy of her script and said it was okay if I duped one of the interviews and practiced it.

Partly it was continuity of tone. Another part was pacing the interview for approximately the same duration every time. And, if Anna was not joking around last week, part was about not getting so bored with the repetition that you did sometime that messed up the interview.

She slipped a small change into the early part of first post-lunch interview, when she switched to passive voice on a question. The interviewee didn't seem to notice. About five minutes later she did it again, and again there was no reaction. When she did it a third time, again to no reaction, I realized she was having fun.

After the interviewee left, I asked her about the passive voice thing. "I think of it like singing on a long road trip. It's a novelty but doesn't affect what I'm responsible for. Don says it's okay unless the subject reacts, then I have to drop it. But he," she jerked her thumb toward the door, "didn't catch it."

"No reason why he should, right?"

"Right. Unless you've seen the show before, you shouldn't notice. I'll fool around some more tomorrow."

*

Margery waved as I sauntered into the Italian food court.

"How's work?" she asked.

"Can you be bored with research? This is like watching paint dry. I'm hoping some subject has a cow over one of the personal questions, just for the sport. But everyone so far has the responses we're expecting — they're embarrassed, mostly. But it's amazing how many virgins there are."

"Really? I read somewhere that more than 90 per cent of high school graduating seniors are sexually active."

"Well, we haven't done fifty interviews yet, so it's hardly a valid sample, but we have seven self-admitted virgins."

The waiter interrupted us with the food. When he left, we resumed.

"Well, speaking of virgins —"

"How did you know she was at my place on Sunday?"

"Because she told me she was going, and why."

"How did your plan for, uh, broadening her horizons work out?"

"It worked out fine. She spent almost two days in the sack with George, Tuesday after dinner through Thursday breakfast, and had a wonderful time."

I must have looked stricken.

"Carl, you

said

you knew she had to fly."

"I know, and I do. I guess I just don't want to have this sort of information."

"And you won't, ever again, at least not from me, unless it's necessary. Discretion about sex is very important in life, even more so in the club."

"I gather that girls in the club discuss these things, though. Wendy mentioned something about my reputation for munching before, uh —"

"Before sticking it in?"

I blushed. "Yeah, that's it." She smiled noncommittally, pushed her plate aside, and leaned across the table.

"You have had a major impact on Carrie's life, especially on her self-confidence. She's told you her story, right?"

"Yes."

"She's a very sexual person, but she's had a life that wasn't big on nurturing and trust. She's trying to figure out how to cope with a sex life.

"Some girls establish a base, one guy, and they venture out from there, but they always return. Others play the field, value their alone time. Still others have a more-or-less steady group they stick with. And then there's monogamy, or at least serial monogamy.

"It doesn't really matter, so long as everyone gets what they want out of the club."

*

As I closed the apartment door, Margery spun me around and slammed her face into mine. I staggered against the door and she pressed her crotch into mine as she mauled my mouth with hers.

I grabbed her ass and shoved my crotch back at hers. We both moaned and broke for air.

"Bed. Now," we said simultaneously.

The flush on her chest, her hard nipples, and the lust in her eyes took me by surprise as I stripped off my shorts and jockeys. I glimpsed her wet pussy as she hopped onto the bed, flipped over, and held out her arms.

"Fuck me, Carl! I need your cock! Do me!"

We slammed against each other, hard. I was stunned at her ferocity and amazed at my ability to respond. I fucked her hard, she hit back harder, and I came almost as fast as she did.

"God yes, your cock is so big, fuck me, push me there, make me — oh god I'm CUMMMMMING!" and her pussy muscles began milking me.

I shot round after round in her, and kept on thrusting, even after it started hurting. I fell on her but quickly shifted off to her side, and we kissed passionately, then subsided.

"Tough day at the office?" I croaked.

"I'm getting old," she said. "There are twenty kids in her class and I swear the average age is fifteen. They're so naïve!

"But there is this one guy who has been coming on to me.

"Carlucci introduced me as her TA in the first class. I sit in the back, taking notes, since I will grade the papers and the exams and need to know what she's taught them. This guy has sat next to me ever since and has been chatting me up something fierce. He asked me out for coffee after class yesterday."

"Yummy."

"Well no, actually, I can't. The university has these rules about faculty fraternizing with students. Since I'm considered faculty, I could get fired if I got involved with any of them." She blushed. "I had a dream about him last night.

"The university's really strict about it. And one of the points they made in my RA training is no fraternization with your kids."

Whoa, this is moving toward girl-to-girl talk. Slow down, tiger.

"That's tough. What're you gonna do?"

"I just did it. And I'm going to do it again, maybe twice more, before I leave."

"You say the sweetest things," I smiled, and we headed for the bathroom.

After I'd swabbed the blanket, we slid under the sheets and cuddled.

"Last summer I lived at home and worked in an office. It was torture, I didn't have sex for three months. I swore I would never do that again.

"This summer, I figured things would be great. TA for Carlucci, take classes, plenty of free time, more cock than I would know what to do with.

"But I've over-committed, and now I'm stuck. I only see real people in the dorm or in class, and I can't touch any of them. I'm in the stacks researching Carlucci's two articles and the book chapter when I expected to have free time.

"So I need some advice."

"My advice? What do I know?"

"Uh, well, I'm kinda embarrassed to ask, but —" she took a deep breath.

I waited in silence.

Wisdom.

"Okay," she exhaled. "You know how bad I blew my freshman year by being stupid about sex? Ever since, the club's been how I've gotten it. I mean, one-hundred percent.

"I'm getting lonely again, Carl. You," and she patted my stirring cock, "are my only option. Well, George when he came to town, before Carrie. And, well, George, after Carrie, before he left town. But I mean, that's it. And I don't want to be a burden on you." She sighed again.

"I've had this same conversation with Tom," I said quietly. "I mean about how to meet girls. He says it's tough, working during the day and all. It's not like during the regular year, when we're all in our routines and the club is in full swing."

"Yeah, that was part of my motivation to get it functioning this summer. Too bad Amanda shot it down.

"Look," she said, "I don't mean to pry, but how are you coping?"

Truth's usually best, but I hope she doesn't get mad at me.

"I'm doing okay."

"Are you successful?"

I heaved a real sigh. "Yes."

"How?"

"Actually, by following your advice."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Get involved in their lives, you said."

"And?"

"Do you really want details?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's just that I'm used to going to bed with a different guy twice a week and getting well-fucked. But since finals it's just been you and George. I've got more needs than that. So I AM interested, yes."

"Right after we talked about Carrie and her situation, I went to SOL," I said, "just to establish my interest in her. She was busy, so the waiter seated me at a table with these high-school girls. One of them decided I was a 'bad boy' and the next morning she came here and we spent the day in bed. I haven't seen her since and, frankly, I don't care.

"Last Monday, I was feeling lonely. I went to the union for dinner, saw a girl alone at a table, and invited myself to sit. I gave her a campus tour, found out she was here for the summer, taking music lessons, and asked if she was going to give a recital. She said no, but the next day there was a poster in the union, announcing her class was giving a performance at noon on Friday. I went, took pictures, and asked her out for dinner. She left Sunday morning."

"Right before Carrie jumped you?"

I blushed. "Yes."

"Wow! No wonder you were so wrecked! I thought you were sorta shy."

"You're responsible for all this, you know that, right?"

"I helped, I guess. Me, Ruth, Pete, the club."