Note to non-nerd readers: to help you navigate through Gracie's world, I have published a glossary of special terms
here
, which covers Gracie's several nerdy interests. Please consult it as needed.
Chapter Seven
Brady paced back and forth in front of her as she sat on her small couch. "Just tell me what you want."
"Um . . ." His visit was already going badly, only a few minutes after his arrival. He'd tried to embrace her and begin kissing her immediately, but she'd made the mistake of pushing him away. Now they were having a talk. Gracie wasn't a fan of talks.
"Come on, Gracie. Why am I here? Except of course for you-know-what. You have a new version, don't you? You should start calling them
per-
versions, by the way. What did you fly me down here for?"
Gracie felt crazy. What was she doing to herself? What had she already done to herself? Brady was a poor grad student, so Gracie had bought his plane ticket, which was not cheap. Which meant that now she was paying to fly a man in to service her sexual needs. Which was crazy, because she had a perfectly fine and cute man here, Paul, who would do anything she wanted. But that was part of the problem. She was always the lead in their sex, what Dahlia had termed "dominant". Which she was totally into. But sometimes, like now, she needed . . . something different. And Damon . . . but that was even more different, not right for the first time. The first time actually wanting it.
Brady did look good in his tight T-shirt. He kept his hands behind his back as he paced, but not at all like Paul. Brady acted like the professor he wanted to be, focused on the point he needed to make and the problem that needed to be solved. Which was her. She couldn't take her eyes off the lump in his pants. She took a deep breath and just said it. "I want you to
fuck
me." She was trying to channel Dahlia's frank and open attitude, which seemed admirably mature. Also hot. But she still couldn't help showing her inexperience with those special words.
Brady stumbled and stopped in his tracks. "Whoa."
"I've decided it's time to move on to
fucking
. And I've decided that you will do me first. Assuming you're agreeable, of course." She picked up her phone.
"I can't think of anything I'd want to agree to more." He moved closer to her.
"I mean . . . I'm not a virgin. I just haven't done it in a while and not yet . . ."
"With that thing." He gestured at her phone.
"Yes." She composed herself, sitting up straight. He was right there and she could easily just reach out and to touch him, his lump. Right at eye level. "And . . . if you want . . . I could maybe dress up for you. You know, play a part to get you in the mood?" Paul liked when she did the Barsoom old-novel scene. And Damon liked when she dressed up a little ecchi. "A character, maybe, that you've always wanted to . . ."
"I can't think of anyone I'd want to fuck more than Gracie Bell." Her face warmed when he said that. A wetness appeared down there. Brady wanted to fuck her. She realized she'd been a tiny bit scared that he wouldn't. Dahlia would be laughing at her right now. "And I like you naked. That's the best costume."
"Oh. Okay." She'd never done anything like it before, but it seemed now perfectly appropriate to stand up and, in front of him, undress completely. Off came her T-shirt, then her bra. He seemed to like that, smiling a warm and pleased smile at her, maybe a little surprised too. New Gracie didn't want to play hard to get. Just the opposite. She tried to imagine what a professional stripper would do. She couldn't, except she thought she should do it slowly. She stared in his eyes while she unbuckled and unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down. She stepped out of them without looking away from him, sliding her panties down after and kicking away the crumpled pile unseen. "Like this?"
She spread her arms out in a gesture she often made in class after demonstrating a technical point. Except now she was demonstrating her nakedness, and her gesture made her little tits stick out a bit. A fantasy flashed through her mind: could she ever be brave enough to teach a class naked? She still had trouble believing men liked her skinny frame. Though Paul couldn't seem to get enough of her. She sat down again.
"Yes!" He joined her on the couch and slid close to touch her.
"Not yet." She held up her phone.
"Of course. Your app. Of course you have a version for fucking." He slid his hand along her bare thigh, up and down.
"Correct. And we need to agree on some parameters."
"I'll wear a condom. I brought some just in case."
"You are such a smart guy. That's great. But not what I meant." His brows lifted in confusion. "First, how long do you want to last?"
"Excuse me?" He'd moved his hand up her side and was feeling over her navel, but that stopped him.
"It goes from zero to eight. Neither of us wants zero." Although, she thought, a zero-level blow job, a surprise like a zero-day, but of course a pleasant surprise, was an interesting concept. "If you're on eight you'll be hard all night. But I do want you to come inside me. Would you be willing to do that for me?"
His answer was a laugh and movement to her crotch.
"Seven?" she suggested.
He laughed again. "You think that app can actually do that to me?"
"Let's find out." She moved the slider to seven. "What positions do you want to fuck me in? Let's see . . . there's missionary, cowgirl, doggy . . ." she began, reading Dahlia's list. "What's scissors?"
"Just pick them all. I want to fuck you in every way it's possible for a man to fuck a woman." A finger began exploring her slit.
"Wait, wait! We need to pick the foreplay." She scooted away to the end of the couch.
"We don't need foreplay. I'm ready." He pushed her down and spread her legs. Kneeling between them he opened his pants. Out popped his stiffening cock.
She reached out and stroked it as it grew, trying to stretch her head toward it. "Can I, can I . . .?"
"You can suck me off later to thank me for the great fucking I'm going to give you."
"Oh. Okay."
"Twice. No, three times. But right now I want my dick in Gracie Bell's pussy and nothing's going to stop me." From somewhere a foil packet appeared in his hand.
Her pussy gushed as if his words had gone straight into it. She hurriedly closed the app's settings page and invoked the scene, then aimed the phone at him and flashed the video.
He stopped with the condom in his hand and watched it. His jaw went slack but he seemed almost studious as he absorbed the image sequence. That expression somehow made him look younger, reminding her of how he'd looked when he was her student. A crazy thrill sent shivers up her spine. She was about to be fucked by one of her students! Okay, former, but still! All those attractive, smart guys in her classes that she could have got between her legs. Like this one.
As soon as the video was finished he growled, slipped the condom on, and spread her legs up and wide until she was almost bent double under him. She was going to get fucked, at last, and by the man she wanted to do it to her. Even without a video she wanted it, but she wanted to go all-in, to the max, committed. She flipped the phone around and did her version of the video on herself, barely able to keep it aimed at her while the images drilled into her and his cock slid along her gushing slit, searching for her hole.
The overwhelming desire, craving, and just pure hunger to have a cock inside her, unleashed by the video, peaked at the exact moment Brady's swollen rod found her entrance and suddenly she was full of cock.
It was a glorious moment, as if his cock had just teleported into her and was twice as big as it looked, three times, and so long it was snaking way up her, radiating impossibly intense pleasure in parts of her it shouldn't be able to reach. Her legs and arms wrapped around him, hugging him as if he were rescuing her from drowning, and she came instantly, hard, shaking uncontrollably under him, yelling her lungs out until she couldn't breathe. She went limp.
But she was still being fucked. The man between her legs, she couldn't think who at this moment and it didn't matter, was still pumping in and out, driving her off the couch with his thrusts. "Ahh!" she cried, her head upside down and sinking to the rug with her hips still on the cushion. He held her like that while he fucked her, a headstand fuck, a position she'd never imagined, and then they were both on the floor and she found out what scissor fucking was when he lifted her leg and pushed himself even farther into her than before and pumped even harder and she was coming again.
Before she could recover he turned her over and lifted her hips up and she was being plowed from behind. She somehow lifted her head from the rug and gained some presence of mind. "You're fucking— fuck—" she tried to say, to tell him it was too much for her first time and she couldn't take any more, but he'd found her phone and slid it on the rug in front of her. It flashed her again and she yelled "Fuck me! Fuck me!" over and over even though she knew the orgasm building inside her would kill her with its unbearable pressure. A hand grabbed her hair and her knees burned on the rug with the wild thrusting of the cock that drove her across the floor and wouldn't stop assaulting her until there was nothing left inside her but cock and orgasm.
# # #
Is this a mistake? Just to confirm,
she'd texted Dahlia when she'd first seen the word images in a new set that Dahlia had sent her. Besides the depictions of even more lewd ways for male and female bodies to be intimate, there were images of simple phrases that could have been subtitles translating an anime— a hentai:
