“I’d like to have sex with you.” Tiffany pronounced, because one thing she’d learned early in her career as a single mom was that if she didn’t state her needs she’d never get them fulfilled. Most of the time she didn’t get them met anyway but sometimes the stars aligned. “It’s been a really long time and you’ve been on my mind.”
“Why?” he asked, running his large hand down the side of her face.
“Why to sex or the long time?” Tiffany chirped.
Was she nervous? Couldn’t be. People had said no to her. But then again, her requests didn’t usually pertain to getting down and dirty. Most of the time it was: Could Bryant participate in the after school science program at half price? Could she have the morning off to bring Bryant to the doctor? Could she borrow a few hundred bucks because Bryant wanted a telescope to watch the stars in the backyard? That was a big fat no from everyone in town.
Never did she ask for an orgasm.
“You’re a beautiful woman. That creamy skin and those blue eyes gave rise to my first boner, but—”
Her chin dropped into his chest. She was used to it. “I have a need inside me,” she whispered, throwing a Hail Mary pass. “I’ve been reading some romance novels and there’s this author.” Tiffany licked her lips. “She describes making love and the…” She searched for the right word, finally settling on, “climax.” Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever done it like that.” Like Dorothy, Tiffany was on a journey of discovery too.
“Did he hurt you?” Cyrus asked in a low voice as thunder clapped outside. They both knew he was referring to Brandon.
“No.” She shook her head. “He just didn’t know what he was doing.” She snorted as her eyes shifted towards Bryant’s room. “I guess that’s obvious.”
“You think I can help?” he asked with a mix of disbelief and amazement in his voice.
“I’d like to try,” she whispered. “I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”
She rubbed against him.
“I think you’ve fallen for that popular misconception—that nerds are honest.”
“No,” she said with a sly smile. “I’ve fallen for the well-known perception: nerds are good in bed.” She poked at his chest. “Don’t disappoint.”
He laughed while slipping his hand under the edge of her pink sweatpants.
She backed him against the wall as he kissed the tip of her nose. He was going the sensitive, gentle route. Most definitely not what Tiffany wanted. Cupping her hands around his jaw, she pressed her lips hard against his mouth. Because he was smart, he knew he needed to plant his tongue back near her molars. As he cupped her bare butt he said,
“I’ve dreamed of touching your ass since I was thirteen and if I see your breasts tonight, I’ll have no reason to continue living.”
She took his other hand and put it on her breast. “I’ll do you one better,” she purred, feeling his fingers cup the fullness. “We can play show and touch?”
Cyrus pulled away.
Was he putting a stop to things? No, please, no. Yes, she knew her butt was a lot bigger than when she wore a short pleated skirt, but she’d thought, because he’d always had a crush on her, Cyrus would overlook all that stuff. Tiffany let her shoulders drop. She exhaled a huff of air, bangs flying off her forehead. This was probably one big mistake.
“Tiffany,” Cyrus said as his eyes shifted down and it wasn’t towards her breasts, more like her feet. He laced his fingers though hers as his lips skimmed along her eyebrow. “I want to treat you properly, with respect.”
“You want romance?” she asked, pulling back a sob. So this wasn’t about her butt.
“Yes,” he smiled shyly. Those braces he’d wore sophomore year had definitely done a good job. “Could we move to the couch?” He pulled on her hand as he led her two steps across the living room. While gazing into his eyes she tripped over Bryant’s controller, but Cyrus caught her. “Someday I want to bang you against the wall,” he said as he righted her. “Maybe even tomorrow, but tonight I want to take time and savor you.”
How in the world did he make every sound, every syllable, every word sexy? She had no idea, maybe it was a nerd thing.
This was new to her. Brandon liked it fast and hard. Brandon didn’t make words into a symphony. The trucker she’d had a brief affair with pretty much worked from the same playbook. Except he was married.
Did slow mean something else? Something lasting?
No, no, no. She wasn’t going there. The point of this evening’s activity was to find out if she could orgasm. She’d read about a woman who could only do it solo. Even though she was fictional, when she met the right guy, a doctor, and he put his fingers in the right place—well, enough said. Cyrus wasn’t in the medical profession but he was close enough.
And he was real.
Cyrus kissed her again. God, he felt good. She tugged at the edge of his T-shirt.
“You want me to take this off?” he croaked.
Most guys didn’t ask. But that was okay; this was Cyrus.
“Yes,” she said, then added, “please.”
That chest of his was even better up close.
“Have you been working out?” She panted, running her hands over each bead of muscle and sounding like a cheap porn video.
Instead of letting them sink into something from Debbie Does Dallas, Cyrus hushed her with a kiss as he pushed her T-shirt over her head. After her shower she’d put on her best lingerie. Optimistic? Most definitely. Worth it? Hell, yeah!
“You like?” she demanded, pushing his hands to the hooks nestled between her breasts. The pink lace had set her back forty bucks. She’d bought it before she knew the trucker was married.
He nodded, reaching for her other breast. His index finger brushed along the top edge.
“Stunning,” he said.
She slipped out of her sweats as she pushed herself into Cyrus’s lap. His fingers traced along her belly and the edge of her underwear. Through the fabric he cupped her. She rolled her hips towards his hand and moaned. Before she had a chance to inhale, he slipped his fingers under her panties.
“Tell me where to touch you,” he whispered. His breath warm against her ear.
“I don’t know,” she panted, suddenly shy.
He thought about it a moment. “Why don’t you lose these?” he suggested, tugging at her panties.
“Not yet.” She remembered something she’d read. “Sometimes, it’s good to work up here,” she suggested, gesturing towards her breasts.
“I aim to please,” he said, kissing her mouth, neck, shoulders, creating a sensual path to her nipples but not touching her. She arched across his knees, feeling something deep and primal inside her. Abandon—that was what she needed tonight, kind of like the storm brewing outside.
She felt guilty about her son sleeping in the next room, but not guilty enough to ask Cyrus if he wanted to play Monopoly. The tornado season lasted until June. Cyrus would only be in Stubbs Creek for so long.
His fingers circled her nipple.
“Does that feel good?” he whispered. “What about this?” He changed his movement; now he was squeezing her nub between his thumb and index finger and she made soul-withering noises.
“Good God,” she moaned as she shifted her hips. “Cyrus,” she said, pulling his head down while her screen door thumped against the house. “I think I’m going to soar up into the sky tonight.”
“You won’t lose your house,” he said, taking her meaning literally as he glanced at the door. “I checked the Doppler while you were in the shower.” Then he got all scientific as he flopped her onto her back and positioned himself between her knees. As he pushed her legs apart he said, “There’s a fifty-five percent chance of a twister, give or take a deviation of five to ten percentage points.” He pulled her panties down to her knees.
Before she had a chance to gasp, his fingers were dancing their way up her inner thigh.
“How does this feel?” he asked, weav
ing his way between her folds. She kicked her underwear off to give him better access.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Do you like this, or”—he placed another finger against the junction between her legs—“this?”
She moaned and lifted her hips off the couch.
“What about you?” she asked, because she’d been trained to be a good wife. “Is there something I can do to make you happy?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, shifting her legs. “I want to give you this gift,” he said, moving his other hand into the action.
It wasn’t even her birthday. Without comment she felt his index finger enter her. She gasped because he hadn’t stopped the work on the outside. He continued to make her quiver, moving in and out, building pressure, pushing her towards an unknown edge.
“Slow or fast?” he demanded. Gone was the indecisive, fidgety boy she used to know.
“What?”
“Do you want—”
“Slow,” she whispered, pushing her hips against his hand while he clasped his teeth onto her nipple. Now, that was something new. She’d seen it in porn but she’d never been able to do it to herself. Not enough flexibility in her neck.
Before she could moan another groan she came. Hot, blinding, and wet. The release gushed out of her. She pushed his drenched fingers back.
“Oh my God,” she cried after her head reentered her body. “I got your jeans all wet.”
He tugged at her hips, preventing her from getting up.
“Don’t worry.” He pulled her against his chest. “Relax,” he whispered, lying next to her. “It’s natural. Ride the wave.”
She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin.
“I hope you don’t smell like sex when you’re out twister hunting tomorrow.”
He nudged her. “I hope I do. The guys will be jealous.”
“Nobody’s getting action among you Ph.D.s?” She nudged him back.
“What do you think?” He pressed his erection against her hip. “We’re nerds. Throw in six weeks of living in fifty square feet and you’ve got guys hard as a slide rule twenty-four seven.”
“What about a motel?” she asked, pulling at his pants. The damn zipper was stuck so she yanked and was rewarded with the most joyful penis she’d seen in a long time. No more dating forty-year-olds. Tiffany was done with fumbling hands and slacker erections.
“Woo-hoo,” she cheered just as the tornado siren went off. Then, “Dammit. Don’t I ever get a break?” she asked the gods. “Don’t I ever get a few moments of fulfilling penetration?”
“Fricking A, there’s a problem with my data,” Cyrus complained while pulling up his pants. Bryant was already coming down the hall as Tiffany jumped behind the couch.
“Hey, Bryant,” Cyrus said, climbing over the cushions. He reached for her son’s shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Show me your storm shelter.”
“We don’t have one.”
“What?” Cyrus swung his head towards Tiffany—thankfully she had her sweats on and T-shirt almost over her head. The bra would have to wait. “What do you mean, no shelter?”
“I’m not made of money,” she muttered as a sound like a freight train roared outside. Since she didn’t live anywhere near the tracks, it could only mean one thing. Her luck had run out—prayers and a sprinkler system made no difference. Plus it looked like Cyrus’s Doppler wasn’t going to help them either.
Cyrus pulled on her arm and grabbed Bryant’s hand. “To the Vortex Vehicle.”
While hunkered down surrounded by a tonnage of metal, Tiffany watched her cottage blow away, along with that forty-dollar bra. Probably the only thing of value she lost in the storm. After it was over, like Dorothy, Tiffany embarked on a journey. But instead of having the Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow at her side, she had Cyrus and Bryant.
Her soon-to-be husband found her heart through love, then her intelligence, because he insisted she go back to school. And to top it all off, he gave her the courage to demand sexual satisfaction. She just wished she hadn’t lost that bra because she would have liked to worn it on her honeymoon.
See You At the Conference
Conventional Loving
by Raven de Hart
Four a.m. Time to pack. So what if I already hit the snooze button two—three—five—a whole bunch of times? That didn’t make it any easier to drag my butt out of bed. Still, it was con day, and if I put off leaving much longer, I’d end up stuck in registration for three hours and miss my first panel—and there was no way in hell I was going to miss the Michio Kaku panel on string theory.
No way in hell.
Yeah, I go to cons—what can I say? Fantasy and sci-fi is where I fit in best. No, I’m not the weirdo who runs around in a cape and tights—
Well, not since I was fifteen, and that was more than five years ago, so I don’t think anyone would recognize me if a picture happened to crop up. A lot of people go to hob-knob with publishers and writers and that kind of thing. Sure, I can’t help but nerdgasm when they have some of the big-name guests. Case in point: I was up at four in the morning to make sure I didn’t miss Michio Kaku.
I packed most of my bags a few nights ago, and set my clock radio forward by a half-hour. Shit, that means I’m up at three thirty in the morning; I’d have enough time to run by the store for last-minute supplies.
I got into the shower straight away, just long enough to clean off any offending odors I gathered up in the night, and threw on a not-so-odiferous T-shirt and some jeans before I ran out the door. No point in waiting around. It just meant I’d be more likely to fall back asleep. Maybe my first stop should be Starbucks.
* * * *
Okay, I’m not the best at shopping for trips. I think I realized that somewhere between the eleventh and twelfth bags of beef jerky. Or maybe it was the gallon of chocolate milk. Don’t laugh; I like what I like, and I make enough money that I can afford to have the things I like without a whole bunch of stupid questions.
My last stop was pharmaceuticals. Allergy pills and condoms.
What? You don’t think these conventions are good places to get laid? You put fifteen hundred sexually deprived social outcasts in spandex and barbarian costumes and try to keep them from climbing each other. Not so unlikely now, is it? Besides, it’s not like I bought a whole box, just a three-pack. I’ve found it works out just fine. You meet a guy at the dance the first two nights and end with the desperate guy in the bathroom on the last day. Okay, so it’s not my first time making the circuits. It’s one weekend out of the year where I get to have hot, semi-kinky sex every day. Do you honestly think I’m not going to plan my attack routes?
When I got to the checkout counter, the little blond chick working the register—she was probably eight months into her pregnancy—gave me weird look after weird look. When she got to the condoms, well, let’s just say she did a piss-poor job of hiding her thoughts. I guess I can’t blame her, exactly. Thick, square Coke-bottle glasses, three boxes of allergy pills running through the checkout stand, and that kind of hair that only looks good if you don’t brush it for a month. I gave her a half smile.
“I’m going on a trip.”
“Whatever, chief.”
I’m pretty sure she told me what the total was, but I didn’t hear. I just ran it through on my card and got the hell out of there. I had what was left of a caramel macchiato and two hours of freeway time waiting for me.
* * * *
Front of the line, just the way I planned it. So what if registration didn’t open up for another three hours? Like hell I was going to move, now that I had such a prime position.
What I didn’t plan on was Rabbit. I met him a couple of cons ago. By met, I mean fucked in a bathroom stall, of course. Now he had another guy with him. He might have been a little younger, a little more muscular, a little blonder, a little preppier—okay, so the new guy was way cute. I still liked Rabbit more. Last time I saw him he was kind of gangly and his hair was way too short for his fa
ce, but he was adorkable, and it worked. Not this year. He still had the big, dorky glasses, pretty much the same as mine, but he’d filled out.
A lot.
Of course, there was no guarantee he would even talk to me. I started drinking with him in the bar last year, and I was totally ready to give him my, shall we say, fullest attention. That was before the cyborg. Rabbit went to the bathroom, a robo-beefcake walked in, and he was assimilating me not five minutes later.
“Noble?” He dragged the mystery blond guy towards me. At least he wasn’t pissed. “I was hoping you’d make it.”
“Like hell I’d miss this. Michio Kaku’s here this year.”
He pushed his glasses up. So fucking hot. Have I mentioned enough how cute he was? If not, I can say it more.
“I know, man.” He brought the other guy closer.
“This is…” He bit down on the corner of his top lip. “Hunter? Or Sergeant? Something weird and manly like that.”
“Zoom,” the guy said.
“Right, Zoom!”
A little weird, but then Noble and Rabbit weren’t exactly the most normal names.
“You don’t know his name?” I asked.
“Fuck, no.”
He sat down on the floor next to me and Zoom got dragged down with him. From the look on his face, it may well have been against his will. Rabbit said, “I just found him in the parking lot, thought he was cute, and invited him to stay with me this weekend.”
That was a change from the last time I saw him. Rabbit’s only really spontaneous response was—well, he didn’t have one, come to think of it. Zoom was frowning like he just put salt on his Cheerios.
“I thought we already covered this. I’m not interested,” he said.
It took us a few seconds, but Rabbit and I both ended up laughing. “What?” Zoom asked.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “That’s just what Rabbit told me right before we hooked up last year.”
“It wasn’t right before.” Rabbit looked super cute when he blushed. Fuck it all, I wanted him right there on the floor. Zoom could watch if he wanted. “You had to convince me a little bit.”
Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds Page 8
