Ai Era: a Nerd Girl's Story

Chapter Five

When Gracie flew back and visited Dahlia in her office to tell her about 3.0, Dahlia gave her one quick scan and said, "You look hot."

"Well, your office, with the sun coming right in . . ."

"No, I mean hot as in sexy. You look seriously hot."

"I just . . ." Gracie glanced down at herself. She'd just thrown on some clothes: her short shorts; a T-shirt, but braless, letting her little tits do their little jiggles, because she couldn't be bothered playing modest and she liked how her nipples tickled when they rubbed the fabric; her Chucks. She hadn't even brushed her hair and must look like a hentai bishojo after a narrow escape from a demon. She didn't care. She typically dressed for efficiency and comfort, and to avoid attracting attention— meaning men's attention— but now she really, totally, utterly didn't care. About anything.

Dahlia leaned over her desk, in her usual black garb, today a thin top with a low neckline that flaunted as much as it hid, her long raven hair falling to her shoulders. "Have a good weekend?"

Gracie wanted to reply,

Yes! Incredible!

She wanted to shout it.

Two men!

She slouched in Dahlia's chair, staring off and letting the memories wash over her.

"Got laid?" When Gracie didn't answer, Dahlia continued, "Or just more of your pussy-eater harem? Or did you try my video?"

"Your video is amazing."

"You're smiling. That's a good sign."

Gracie couldn't hide her grin. She recalled the sex she'd had this weekend as if reading a log file: first, of course, there was her initial use of the GF video on herself with Brady in the middle of his living room floor, her first taste of come right out of a cock. She remembered it as warm and like some strange Scotch, not too bad. Then another taste later that night, without needing the video. In retrospect that was a revelation: she didn't need a video to like cock. And that second time, not so overwhelmed by the experience and the video, she could concentrate more on Brady, how his

orgasm

tasted

,

that's how she thought of it. Fellatio multiple times throughout Saturday: kneeling in his kitchen in the morning, in the stacks at the library, later just a little bit in a parklet behind a tree— she'd gone a little crazy with her new toy, Brady and his handsome cock— then back at his place where, after an extended time enjoying his delicious cock even more, she led him back to the spot where she'd done him the night before and handed him her phone, set to trigger the GF video on her again.

"Do it to me," she said, kneeling at his feet with both hands around his cock. "Please. As hard as you can." She actually said please, which she'd never done when getting men to do the deed on

her

.

Brady did it to her hard, harder than she'd expected. She could feel his pent-up desire and frustration from her day of oral teasing in the way he immediately grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her onto his cock, pumping deep. "Grr-rracie, look!" he growled. She looked. She had trouble focusing with her head bobbing back and forth, but she saw him aim her phone down at her. Her jaw sagged open and then her world was cock, filling her mouth and her vision as if she were sucking on a lightning rod that had just been hit, endless cock endlessly.

When she woke from that vision it was with his cock lodged in her throat and she was gagging on it as he continued to stab into her. "Fuck, Gracie. You love this, don't you? Take it down. More!" Her phone flashed again, and again her universe was cock, a World of Cock, inside her and all around her. She'd been sucking cock for as long as she could remember and saw an endless future of cocksucking ahead of her. She was Sweet Hungry Gracie the Cocksucker and always would be and always would live in the perfect World of Cock.

When she recovered from that video he did her again and she turned into a rag doll. Maybe she'd watched too many anime, because all those super-cute hentai girls who jiggled their enormous tits and whimpered on the cock or cocks that were stuffing whatever hole or holes they were offering or being forced to surrender, she'd thought they were outrageous exaggerations, but she was just like them, a living hentai bishojo, whimpering, stuffed, helpless, and loving every absurd second of it.

"Look at me," he said. She fell back onto her butt against his couch, her head pinned against a cushion by his hands and his cock. "Look at me, Gracie." She blinked away tears. This was a new Brady, not polite Brady or caring Brady or smart Brady. Animal Brady, stallion Brady, bull Brady, was fucking her mouth. Really, after those videos, fucking Gracie's head, fucking the brain she took so much pride in, and she was totally ready to be totally fucked through and through.

She tried to beg him to come. There was nothing she wanted more, nothing she could imagine more perfect, than to have a male animal like Brady explode in the center of her head. Only gargly sounds emerged from her throat when she tried to voice her craving, lost in a choking spasm as his cock drove deeper. She begged him with her teary eyes, with her hands stroking his balls, with plaintive squeals. When he withdrew to her tongue, she begged him directly, nerve cell to nerve cell, with each taste bud, and at last, with his hands pressing her head into the furniture and his cock slicing in and out between her tongue and her palate, he shot his load into her, again and again while she swallowed and swallowed.

When he collapsed onto the floor she followed and kept sucking, willing his orgasm to continue, begging him to come in her mouth forever. She sucked while he groaned, sucked as he tried weakly to push her off, kept sucking while he softened, sucked on his sweaty balls that seemed to tremble on their own, and at last when even she could tell in her cocksucking haze that he was used up, let him pull her to him as he lay panting.

"I'm sorry," he began, "I couldn't help myself. I just needed to—"

She covered his mouth. The last thing she wanted was an apology. "You were perfect," she said, "a perfect man."

"That," he said to her after a long moment of silence and a strong hug, "that was the best blow job ever."

# # #

"Why do they call it a blow job?" Gracie asked. Dahlia, she saw, had been quietly observing her reverie from across her desk. "I mean, I wasn't blowing. It wasn't a job."

Dahlia chortled. "For some women it's a job. But I know what you mean. I don't find fellatio to be a chore. Far from it. But you've got it backwards regarding the blowing. He's the one that does that. You know, 'Thar he blows!'"

They laughed together at Dahlia's bad sailor imitation, which made Gracie cough. Her throat was still scratchy. She got her water bottle out of her pack. It was cold. Paul, that sweet thing, had filled her bottle this morning from her fridge while she was still asleep. What a guy.

It had been barely a day since her weekend with Brady, and the images that had been drilled into her mind the way he'd drilled his cock into her head were a constant low level background awareness, as if her blow job wasn't over and she was just pausing before resuming and finishing it. She'd done Brady one more time the next morning before he took her to the airport. She had to talk him into it. He protested he was worn out from last night. She'd needed it more than he did, and even after she'd coaxed an orgasm and a small pool of come out of him her satisfaction was only temporary.

But then back home as she was modifying Dahlia's fuck video for her possible use, she arrived at the same essential step, that of turning Dahlia's favorite penis into her own favorite. That was the issue, and the source of her continuing need for more cock: she didn't have a favorite, she had

favorites,

plural. When she'd virtually carved her favorite penises for the GF video, she'd used from memory both Brady's and Paul's penises as templates. So both penises were now archetypal for her, imprinted on her by the repeated video hits.

Hungry Gracie needed to suck Paul's cock.

# # #

"Do you have a new version?"

"Yes," she answered. Paul and Gracie were walking from a Japanese place, where she'd taken care not to drink too much, back to her place, where she was going to take care of Paul, very special care. "But different," she added. Paul would have just come over to her place with takeout if she'd told him to, but she wanted— she couldn't believe how she'd changed— to make it a date. A date with Paul's cock. She even dressed for him and his cock, as much as she could from her limited closet, putting on again the manga outfit, as she thought of it, with the skirt pulled up even higher because Paul liked her legs. Instead of the painful manga shoes she wore her Converses, which were more like what manga girls wore anyway, with knee socks, like Japanese schoolgirls. She wanted to be his hentai girl. At the last minute she replaced the tube top with a loose one so when he was looking down on her later he would maybe be able to see her little nipples, which he also somehow liked and would be welcome to play with.

"Different in what way?" he asked.

"You'll see. I'm just going to do it to you, do what I want with you. Something new."

He thought about that for a while. "Okay. Sure. Can I eat your pussy afterwards?"

She laughed. He took her hand in his. She had to let him hold her hand, given what he'd just volunteered for, that is, anything. He was hers, her bishonen. He was certainly cute enough. She pulled him along, almost skipping, hurrying them to her place and to start doing him. She was Hungry Gracie.

"Oh," he said when he saw her bookshelf with her manga collection, which sparked a slight panic. It hadn't occurred to her that this was his first time in her place, and in fact the first time any man had been here. It felt as if he were already inside her. He pulled out a few graphic novels, one by one, and inspected their covers, opening a few to scan the panels of the story.

"These are cool," he said. "I like comics too. But these are way more than comics."

He knelt to look at more works on the bottom shelf, triggering another pang of panic, which it shouldn't have, considering what they'd already done together and what she was planning to do with him tonight, but nonetheless it did. The bottom shelf held her small hentai collection.

He looked up at her, a thin volume half pulled out and showing a small-waisted, big-boobed girl, impossibly cute, in a school uniform, looking longingly and pawing at a very cute boy. Paul's eyes swept over her, then the cover. He put the novel back and put a hand on her leg.

"Up," she ordered. She wanted him down there, but not yet.

He stood. "Maybe you could recommend some of these to me."

She didn't think he would like them and was about to say so— she liked the primitive world fantasies, heroic young women warriors and hunters, no tech, only a little magic— but he looked so sincere. "Maybe later. Come here."

She walked the few steps to the middle of the old oval rug that filled most of her small living area. He followed. "I really like you naked," she said. She touched him, reaching up to stroke his neck. "You're really a cute guy."

He got the message and began undressing. He looked around uncertainly before tossing his clothes on her couch, then stood before her and waited.

She liked that. She liked looking him up and down, enjoying his trim male body and especially his growing cock. She liked making him wait. He bounced a little. She wanted to keep looking at him, in his eyes while she imagined what she was going to do to him, which she suspected would be beyond what he imagined was going to happen tonight. But she couldn't resist playing with him first. He was so totally different from Brady, not just physically. A whole new male world to explore. Her hand went down his chest, feeling the sparse hair, up along his ribs. He trembled. Her fingertips slid across his abdomen, right along the top of his bush. The fingers slipped down and ran lightly along his length, mostly hard. He shivered. His balance wavered.

"Stay still," she ordered. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, not squeezing, just holding him, enjoying the feeling of possessing him. It was so cool that each man came with his own game controller; and each man, she realized, was better than the best video game. She'd grown tired of video games anyway. The real problems she was working on at the U. were more complex and more challenging. And how many times can you blow a zombie's head off? Again, as she had her first night with Brady, she felt dumb for not playing the man game sooner when she was a girl.

He was trying so hard to obey her, but still shook. It was fun to tease him, to tickle his underside, making him jump, but he got control of himself. He even reached his hand to her skirt and tried to slip it underneath. "No," she ordered.

He pulled his hand back. She let go of him for a minute to retrieve a pillow from her couch and her phone from her pack, dropping the pillow between them on the floor. He looked down and started to kneel. "No," she said again, but softly. She moved close to him and reached under to touch his balls.

He jumped again and put his hands on her shoulders for balance. "Gracie." He let out a breath he'd been holding.

"Put your hands down." He obeyed. "Call me Doctor Bell."

He looked in her eyes. "Doctor," he answered calmly, nodding. He was giving himself to her. She wanted him more than ever now. The desire was impossible to resist.

She let go of his balls, took a small step back, and brought up the app on her phone, 2.2GF, same as Brady. His eyes followed her motions. She liked how he was so totally confused, not knowing what was going to happen, but she didn't want to be cruel to him. She really, really liked Paul, especially right now, at this special moment. She gave him the phone and showed him how she wanted him to point it down.

"Doc— Doctor," he began, but a shake of her head silenced him.

She knelt on the pillow. She wanted to just keep looking up at him, enjoying him, but he seemed so worried, his puppy dog eyes as big as she'd ever seen them as they darted between her and her phone, her lips so close to his erection, his mouth gaping in surprise almost like when she videoed him. She couldn't contain her wide smile, nor keep her hands from taking his cock, now totally stiff, and pulling it to her. Making sure he could see, reaching out her tongue, she took a lick on his cock, right on the tip.

Her first tiny touch startled him. His hands reached out in the air for balance. He fought for control.

"Don't move, Paul." She poked into his pee hole the way she'd done with Brady. He hissed and went up on his toes briefly but disciplined himself. "Good boy," she said. She licked his underside, just under his helmet, and like Brady he loved that too. So maybe men were simple, at least their cocks. She took his whole cockhead into her mouth.

"Ohh, Gra— Doctor B—B— Doc, Doc!"

He was no longer confused. He grinned. He was happy. She liked making Paul happy, which made her happy. She was right. Paul's cock was the exact remedy for her hunger and he was even more delicious than she'd hoped. She sucked. She caressed his balls. She stroked his shaft. So delicious.

"Doctor, Doctor Bell, please!"

She pulled off him. She could taste the fluids he was already leaking. Of course, he had to be extremely horny. "Hold on, Paul. I told you I'm going to do whatever I want." She sucked him slowly, carefully, taking control of him with her mouth. It was easy to send him up and up with her tongue and lips, then settle him back with a hard non-moving suck, just hugging him tightly while he got used to the new level of excitement she'd induced. Then she did it to him again. She was getting good at sucking, on only her second cock. She felt proud to be so skilled, a natural at the man game.

After several level-ups— she was getting into a focused rhythm like when she played a video game and imagined a controller where she used her mouth as well as her hands— she could tell he didn't have much resistance left. His shields were almost down. She wanted to go on and on, she wasn't nearly done enjoying him, but she could tell in the grimaces he made with each suck and the way his body shivered, that maybe she was taking him beyond pleasure and into torture. She wanted to torture him— he was hers— but that experience could wait for next time. She needed something else now. She pulled off, both her mouth and hands.

It took him a minute to settle down fully, even without her touching him at all. He was breathing heavily. Uncertainty had returned to his face. "What— Doctor Bell— what do you want me to, to . . .?"

"The phone." He stared at her phone as if it had just inexplicably appeared in his hand. "Aim it at me." Her tongue on its own wetted her lips in anticipation.

"At you?"

She took his cock back in her hand and moved her lips almost to his tip. "Do it to me," she said, trying to make her words a stern order. But she couldn't keep down a plaintive note of longing. There was nothing more she wanted, nothing more she needed, than to complete her— she couldn't find the words: initiation? induction? rebirth? She liked rebirth— into the new Gracie. She was recursing herself and it was a thrilling experience.

He pressed the button. Again her world became cock. It was glorious, so much cock, everywhere, always, every kind. She was back in her World of Cock and life was again perfect.

She woke from the video with Paul's cock deep in her mouth and her hands hugging his balls like they were precious, warm gems. It was time to suck the contents of those gems down her throat. Paul was hers, his come was hers. She devoured Paul.

He came quickly, his cockhead jerking, spraying his come all over the inside of her mouth like a ripe, bursting fruit, shocking her mind still receptive from the video, his yells filling her ears and her small room. He tasted terrible, like bleachy snot, but it didn't matter. She plunged deeper on him, squeezing his pulsing length as more of his slimy come spurted into her and spread all over, making his cock juicy and slippery. She sucked and sucked, she couldn't stop, swallowing everything he spewed into her, her mouth watering from the shocking taste, her nostrils invaded by his come's acrid scent, until she discovered she was bent over and sucking on a half-hard cock as he lay collapsed on the floor, totally used up and empty. Her second man.

He was still groaning and shaking when she crawled up to hold him. "I love to suck cock," she said in his ear, which triggered a spasm. "Your cock." Another, smaller spasm.

And Brady's,

she thought to herself. She really, really, really liked both these men.

They lay like that for a while until he rolled to her, put his mouth on her neck and gently bit her. His hand went to her pussy. She felt satisfied and would have been perfectly content to lie with him for a long time, the way she had after doing Brady, even enjoying the peculiar tang still faintly molesting her taste buds, but if he was offering himself and his magic tongue to her there was no way she was going to refuse. He crept down her body, biting her shoulder, pulling up her top to bite her nipples, her ribs, until, at his goal, he pulled off her panties, opened her legs, and put his lips where they both wanted him to put them.

He started slowly now, different from previous times when he'd been so eager. He took his time, exploring. He was simply the most wonderful, perfect pussy licker any girl could ever imagine. She opened her legs wider and even spread her arms out on the rug, the star of her own hentai anime, picturing an inset the way some of them did it with an impossible X-ray shot of an incredibly long tongue wiggling into her hole and then a finger reaching to her G-spot, and she was her own voice actor, forcing high-pitched, whimpering squeals of delight from whatever the really, really cute bishonen was doing to her bishojo pussy.