Author’s Note: This is the first of three chapters of an on-going story, a prequel to my previously posted Loving Wives ‘Getting Started’ in the lifestyle series. These chapters develop my two main characters. Thanks to editors NGNX and IJS0904 for their input. I will re-write and re-post those Getting Started chapters with more descriptive scenes in this new ‘Lifestyle’ sequence later.
Half of chapter one describes how such an odd couple met in high school, so bear with me as they evolve. It might help you better understand why they behave as they do later. If you’re just looking for a detailed sex scene to get off, mine are not as descriptive as many others on Literotica but scroll down to start at the ‘High School Grads’ section of Chapter 1.
Constructive criticism in comments would be appreciated.
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Preface
I am a geek, not a nerd!
Such descriptions were insults hurled by the high school jocks or the A-lister girls.
A nerd is “a foolish, boring, studious person who lacks social skills.” A geek is “a peculiar, overly intellectual, boring, socially awkward person.”
I may be peculiar. But I don’t think I’m foolish. So, I accept the description of geek as accurate.
Since those early socially awkward years, I’ve made a very good career with my geekiness … and a lot of money. I’m getting ever closer to a very comfortable retirement. This is who I am!
As a geek, I have trouble writing about feelings. I never read or learned how to “appreciate the symmetry of those RJ-45 colored wires, all installed identically”, or “embrace the simplicity of the IP address as binary numbers.”
I can describe my feelings about a situation with somewhat austere language. My mind works on the premise: “Feelings? It is what it is.” Asking me to describe my feelings is like asking me “How do you feel about the Moon?” My answer is “It’s there! What else is there about it?”
I have even more trouble identifying thoughts and feelings of others. I might now, after extensive effort, write “My wife stared hungrily at my stiff cock, before devouring it with her wet, sensuous lips.” If I ask her to proof-read, she’ll laugh saying, “Stared hungrily??? Really? I was bored, looking for something to do, and your cock was handy.” She’s almost a socially inappropriate geek, but she’s never boring.
Austere though it is, this geek writes in a first-person perspective as the best means of relating my memories. You will read this story as it evolved from my point of view. And perhaps you will feel what it’s like to be a geek.
Geek though I am, I managed to land an incredibly gorgeous girlfriend in high school.
Chapter 1 A Geek Beginning
I turn the dial slowly listening carefully for a response. After going through the whole band, I press the mic button and try again.
“CQ, CQ. This is WA3ZZ1. CQ, CQ. Calling at 144.15 megahertz, and tuning.”
I slowly turn the dial again, waiting for anyone to reply.
I stop to listen each time I hear a voice, discussions between other Ham Radio operators. I can only hear one caller talking, then silence as he listens to someone else on a different frequency. Those operators focus on their own discussions and can’t hear me calling them on yet another frequency. Thus, we have the term “CQ”, I’m searching for anyone who is also tuning and listening for a new contact.
I hear one very weak signal, and slowly turn the dial back and forth, zeroing in on the strongest part of it. I strain to listen until I hear the faint voice say: “WA3ZZ1, this is W4ZZ1 in Kentucky. Waiting.”
Finally! Another contact. After over an hour of this and the first in several days, this feels like opening a present.
I look at the map on my wall. My antenna was aimed toward Michigan, and the caller was about 45 degrees off center. He was on the very edge of my electromagnetic footprint.
I replied, “W4ZZ1, this is WA3ZZ1 in central Pennsylvania. Your signal is very weak. Can you try calling again in 30 minutes?”
“W4ZZ1. Sure thing. I’ll check back in 30.”
I look out my bedroom window through the darkness at the heavy snow coming down, adding to the 10 inches already covering the ground. With few operators on this two-meter radio band, we both look forward to making new contacts, to exchange our personalized QSL contact postcards. So, it would be worth it.
I pull on my coat and gloves to go out in the cold and climb the 35-foot tower with wrench in hand to turn my antenna 45 degrees.
I’ve made such long-distance contacts since the 8th grade when my uncle helped me earn my first Novice Ham Radio license, and he loaned me his first radio and Morse Code transmitter. With Morse Code then and now this new two-meter radio for the Technician Class band, I could meet like-minded geeks without having to talk too much.
School
I walk through the school hallway at a tall, six foot three inches, towering over most students and ignoring them. Their slow progress through the halls taxes my patience. I easily maneuver my lanky frame around them, when I’m looking over their heads, finding the fastest path to the cafeteria study hall.
I went in and sat at my usual spot, with few others anywhere near me at this table. Opening my library book for the College Chemistry CLEP study guide, I started the first practice test. Mr. Weber only covered inorganic chemistry in the first half of the year. I read the later sections on organic chemistry over the Christmas break to prep for the CLEP test and earn the college credits before starting Community College in the fall.
She walked over and sat on the table’s bench beside me. While I knew a lot of girls in high school, most were of the A-lister types like Gretchen, the head cheerleader in my same advanced classes. They knew me as a geek, and the A-listers had no particular interest in socializing with me. And we were in study hall to study, which was a solo task to me. So, Jan sitting beside me today comes as a surprise.
I thought she was really cute the first time I saw her in science and math classes three years ago. She caught my, and probably all boys’ attention when she showed up looking almost as mature as a hot, busty young teacher. Her long dark auburn hair, green eyes, and constant smile made her stand out even more than the other popular girls. When I walk near her in the hallway, I notice she isn’t as short as most others. Being a head shorter than me makes her now about five seven or taller.
Jan and I had nothing in common, other than those few classes in middle school. I come from ‘the other side of the tracks.’ I lived in a poor, working-class neighborhood, growing up literally beside the railroad tracks, and near the coal mines. She lived in the more affluent, white-collar side of the rural township over 5 miles away and she attended different schools until they completed the new Junior High School.
Jan never seemed to hang out around the cheerleaders or the other elitist students from her neighborhood. And that made her even more attractive to me. The few times I overheard her talking to others always sounded like she’s somewhat bossy or sarcastic. But she’s otherwise very friendly and talks to everyone, not just those in the popular cliques.
Now, here she was, going out of her way to sit next to me with her chemistry book.
“Ted. Mr. Weber said you’re the only student who aces every test in his chemistry classes. Tell me how this works! How do I balance these equations? It doesn’t make sense to me,” she said with a smile.
I noticed she didn’t ask me, she directed me to explain it to her. This was her bossy nature coming out. It wasn’t a mean-bossy. Her directives don’t sound like orders, more like expectations. ‘You will do this unless you have something better to do.’ If you had something else to do, she’ll say “OK, then!”, and walk away. It’s not a dialog to her. She told you what she wants, and she’s always on a mission to get it.
My math and science teachers sometimes sent students to the back of the classroom for me to explain things to them. The teacher could continue with their lesson for the others, while I helped with remedial training. So, Mr. Weber sending her to me in study hall indicates she probably needs much more help. But, with her cute smile I’ll help her learn chemistry, and enjoy the eye candy sitting next to me.
I liked the times we spent together in study hall. Over the next three months, we spent many days there going over her math and science requirements. Otherwise, we didn’t socialize in any way. I didn’t date or socialize much in high school. Other kids always seemed too immature with their childish antics in school, so I didn’t bother with them after school. With a January birthday and being held back one year in elementary school, I was one of the older kids in my class, turning eighteen before the upcoming high school graduation. And I learned Jan also had her 18th birthday, which is probably why she developed more than her grade peers.
I realized she was smart, and possibly as smart as me in her own way. She just wasn’t interested in any form of math or science beyond the bare minimum to pass the courses to graduate. I’m a quiet geek, talking only when asked about technical subjects, and otherwise uninterested in socializing. Jan was talkative and looking for an audience but didn’t want to bother listening to others. So, we seem to complement each other.
Sitting so close together, she occasionally put her hand on my leg or accidentally brushed against me. These had the expected reactions causing an uncomfortable feeling in my pants. And Jan didn’t fail to notice.
I reached down to adjust myself, and she smirked. “Did I cause that?”
“Of course.”
“With just a touch? Hmmm,” she said, as if discovering a new talent. She seemed to only then realize her ability to affect guys with some words or a touch.
Dating
It was one day in early-April of our senior year when she found me outside of school.
“Ted. Are you going to the prom?” she asked as she put her hand on my arm.
“No. I rarely go to the school games or dances.”
“Well, you are now, so plan on renting a tux!” Again, with the smile and ‘Unless you have something better …’ attitude. “And I want to see you in it, at least two days before we go.” This time, she moved her hand to my chest and ran a finger down a few buttons of my shirt.
Renting a tux and taking her to the prom was going far beyond her telling me to tutor her in study hall. This would cost me money. But her hand and touches caught my attention in ways I wasn’t prepared to ignore. And those stirrings quickly ran to other thoughts! What would I get out of it, other than feeling out of place at one social event?
“Wait. We’re not even dating. Shouldn’t we go out at least once? Prom is still a month away.”
“Good idea! I need to check out your other social skills before the prom. Pick me up at seven Friday evening.”
More of the same smiling boss from her. Okay, I would push this a little further.
“I’ve heard after the prom, guys and girls often make out. Is that part of this deal, too?”
“Yes. We’re in this for the whole experience.”
Admiring Jan’s figure was something all guys in school did. So, in my logical mind, saying what I wanted to do with her should come as no surprise.
“So, you’ll let me feel you up?”
She gave me a quizzical look, “Why not? Go ahead and feel them,” as she thrust her chest toward me.
“You mean I can feel them right now?”
Jan finally looked exasperated. “Why should it be a big deal? Everyone has them. But don’t squeeze too hard.”
Ok, now we were getting somewhere. It might be worth the cost of renting a tux and feeling socially out of place.
I actually got to feel this girl who could have been a Playboy model! Of course, through her sweater and bra, the feeling was rather anticlimactic. However, I was calculating the odds of getting more opportunities to enjoy her figure, and the probability was in my favor. I could take her bossiness and ‘all about me’ attitude, when I get what I want, too.
I picked Jan up on Friday at seven, as directed, and we went out to my car, a very old, cheap Mustang convertible. It cost me three hundred dollars and the work of replacing the starter with one from the junk yard. But those were my wheels to go to work, without borrowing dad’s car.
My date was looking stunning, dressed in skin-tight jeans, a silk low-cut blouse, and a long necklace with a heart that dangled an inch above her cleavage! The low-cut blouse was something she never wore to school. Her 3-inch heel short black boots brought her up even taller and closer to my height.
I remembered mom’s warning to open doors for my date. And as she sat in that passenger seat, I took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of where that heart-shaped pointer was directing me to look, something I had to struggle to avoid doing for the rest of the evening.
I closed her door and walked around to sit in the driver’s seat. I asked, “Ok, where to now?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“You’re the one who told me to pick you up at seven. I thought you knew where you wanted to go.”
“Wow. You really are new to this dating thing. You’re supposed to surprise me!”
“Well … Surprise! This is as far as I planned.”
Jan laughed. “OK. I guess I did put you on the spot. Actually, I’m not very experienced at dating either. Why don’t we go to the diner, and talk a little? Other than you’re an expert at math and science, I really don’t know much about you. And by the way, the blue shirt goes well with your blue eyes. Nice choice.”
“What choice? It was on top of my other clean shirts.”
And thus began our geek romantic adventure!
First Date
We were in the diner talking and filling each other in on things other than math or science.
“So, how can you pass math and science tests so easily? Mr. Webber said you never have any wrong answers.” she said.
“The books and teachers tell you the answers, and I remember it all. Whether listening in class or reading, I just remember everything to answer the questions. And the math solutions sort of jump out at me, because they fit the patterns I remember.”
“Then why can’t you ace English?”
“English teachers want me to write something. On those tests, I just stare at the blank paper, and nothing jumps out in my mind to write. It’s not something I already know, and I don’t know what they’re looking for.”
“If you talked more, you might learn what they want. You explain things to me in study hall. But you don’t say anything unless I ask questions.”
“I’m just telling you what the books already explained, just in a different way for you to remember. Other than that, I don’t know what else to say. When I say things, people get mad, and I don’t know why. So, I found it better to not talk.”
“So … You really are a geek.”
“Geek’s an accurate description, but don’t call me a nerd. … Now, it’s my turn. How is it a girl like you isn’t hanging out with the popular A-listers, like the cheerleaders?”
“I’ve known my best friend Marlene since first grade, when we both had to repeat the year. She lives on the farm across the field from my house, and we just clicked. I had fun spending time with her on their farm growing up. Gretchen, the head cheerleader used to tease Marlene about being a farmer, and I didn’t like it.”
“I know Gretchen. She seems to avoid you in the hallways, even more than she ignores me. She doesn’t seem to be mean toward you, just avoiding you.”
“I intimidate her. I’ve always been taller than Gretchen. One day in gym class near the end of 8th grade, she made a nasty joke about Marlene, and it made me mad. We were in the locker room changing, and my locker was next to Gretchen’s. When she reached for her bra, a falsie fell on the floor.”
“What’s a falsie?”
“It’s a pad in the bra to make her look more mature. She didn’t pick it up fast enough. I got it first, put it on top of the locker where she couldn’t reach it, and everyone laughed. She’s never forgiven me. Not that I care. She was mean to my best friend. The other kids who want to be in with the popular crowd must appease Gretchen to be invited to her parties. She’s sort of their leader.”
“The other guys in your neighborhood, too?”
“They avoid me, too. Gretchen really hates me. She’s made it very clear anyone dating me will never be at her parties again. So, boys won’t ask me out, and I don’t really care. I’m not going to ask them out, either. If I want something, I’ll tell you, and I either get it or not.”
“Did you ever think of apologizing to Gretchen?”
“Nope! She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t need them because Marlene and I do everything together.”
It seemed amazing to me how one incident in 8th grade forever shaped her personality: Don’t ask for anything, tell people to do what she wants.
“… My turn again,” she said. “When I touch you, you reach down to your pants and adjust yourself. Does it always happen?”
“Usually. Your touches make me feel different. And I get hard when you do it.”
“I’d like to see that sometime.”
“Well, I can’t show you here in the diner. I know they wouldn’t like that.”
“Find someplace a little more private for our next date and show me.”
Again, with her smiling ‘You will do this…’ But this task promised to be more fun.
During our talk, I learned Jan and Marlene dared each other to get dates for the prom. Knowing her effect on me and with other boys even from outside her neighborhood avoiding her sarcastic come-backs, Jan decided I was the easiest one to direct to take her.
When I took her home that first evening, I walked her to the door. Jan turned toward me, wrapped her arms over my shoulders, and we kissed. As she leaned against me, I began reacting again, and she felt it against her hip.
She reached down to my crotch, rubbing it with her hand through my jeans. “I definitely want to see it next time. Now you need to go through the rest of the ritual. Go home and call me.”
Directing yet again?
“Ok,” I sighed, and walked back to my car.
We went on more dates and to the Prom, enjoying the ‘whole experience.’ But I won’t go into details of those high school activities. Use your imaginations for those very memorable moments!
Jan passed her chemistry class final test and passed the course … barely. And I thought even that was due to her writing a few key formulas on her thighs and wearing a dress during the test.
“Well, what’s he going to do? Accuse me of cheating? ‘Why Mr. Weber! Whatever do you mean? Do you see any answers written on my hands or arms?’ He’s certainly not going to say he was looking up a student’s dress during the test! He never told me to stop picking up my skirt or spreading my legs. So, he graded my performance on the final. I didn’t make an ‘A’, but I didn’t fail!”
I laughed at that. She’s ingenious!
I was curious what her real score was on the test. So, I talked to Mr. Weber after my Chemistry class about it. “How did Jan do on her test?”
He laughed. “Thanks for tutoring her. I knew she could do it, even after I deducted the theatrical answers. I was surprised she got the extra credit question, though. And she couldn’t have cheated on that one. … I saw you two at the Prom, so I’m glad it worked out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suggested she ask you for help with Chemistry. The rest was up to the two of you. But you both needed tutors.”
The Park
Our dating options before the prom and after would normally be limited to an occasional movie, bowling, roller skating, or meals together in the diner. We were both constrained by a lack of socializing, me from being a geek and Jan from being too bossy. We also knew the local teen club and those other after-school activities would be too cliquish and childish for either of us.
Jan had her best friend, Marlene as an outlet for her talkative girl needs. I was satisfied with my radio hobby and other reading interests. And after we opened up to each other in the diner on the first date, we both had a new hobby: enjoying private time together. We found those times together more fun.
When Jan tasked me to find a private place, parking my car at a scenic overlook worked well enough for that date. However, it wasn’t very comfortable.
My next choice was a picnic in a park. I managed to find a very secluded spot in a local park as our getaway for when we felt the need to be together in private. Although we were over 18, using our own bedrooms in our parent’s houses were still off limits if our parents were home. Motel rooms cost too much with our limited incomes. So, we had to wait for our families to plan to be out of the house for some reason, and both of our own after-school jobs had to sync with those times.
The local park was the most reliable ‘go to’ place, when the urge struck, and the weather was right. We were lucky with relatively mild weather during the last month of our senior year for a few nice times in the park, huddled together under the blankets.
It was always a relief when the weather permitted us to pack some blankets and snacks, walk down the hiking trail, and duck off through the bushes. Going over a hundred yards around the hillside through the mountain laurel shrubs, we found our private open spot with a view of the valley. We laid together talking and started exploring with our hands. Sometimes we even enjoyed a bottle of wine when a friend from my job provided it.
A bottle of Boones Farm Strawberry Hill seemed a risqué addition to our not-yet-drinking-age picnics. And a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco was like adding a touch of sophistication.
High School Grads
The Saturday after our high school graduation was a bright sunny day, with temperatures in the high 70’s, a perfect afternoon and evening for the park. With blankets, backpack picnic, and a bottle of wine, we excitedly headed to our secluded space and our now favorite sport: naked wrestling.
I spread out the blanket in the small clearing among the mountain laurel and sat back to open the wine. Jan took off her shoes and stood barefoot at the end of the blanket. She was dressed braless in a blue cropped tank-top tied Daisy Duke style in the front, with white shorts. She looked at me with a mischievous grin.
“Mom rented the movie “Flashdance” for our Thursday family movie evening. I don’t think she knew what the description meant by exotic dancer. When I watched the movie, I thought the idea of being a stripper might be fun. Imagine the power of tormenting guys, just by getting naked.”
Jan started swaying her hips as she untied the tank top knot between her 38-D’s. She held the two loose ends of the material together covering those tits.
“Do you find it exciting watching me undress? How much would you pay to see me spread my hands?” She glanced down at my crotch and my obvious bulge. “I see ‘he’s’ showing some interest in those tight jeans.”
I reached down and adjusted my cock, straightening it down the right pantleg. I was now hard at the full seven inches, and the pants were feeling confining, my cock wanting to stand straight up.
“Well, I could buy you a drink.” I lifted a tumbler of wine for her. “You’ll need to let go of that material to take it.”
“That might be enough.” She spread her hands, dropping the top behind her, exposing those 38-D’s and already hard nipples. She wrapped her hands under and around her tits, lifting them and pointing them at me. She brought her hands slowly to the tips, caressing the dark areolas and squeezing the nipples between her thumbs and first fingers. “Watch how I do it. This is how I want you to handle them. Slow and easy, not just grabbing my nipples.”
“I can do that. Sit here beside me, and I’ll show you.”
“Not yet. This stripper’s still on stage. And the rule is ‘look, but don’t touch’!”
Jan lowered her hands and unbuckled her belt. She continued to sway her hips, as if dancing to some silent music. She slowly lowered the zipper, then raised her hands to the back of her head, as she glanced coyly and down to the side. Her shorts were now spread open, giving a hint of the pubic hair at the top of her pussy. She spread her hands open, fingers wide and seductively bringing her hands to the sides of her face, then down along her tits, and along her ribs, staring seductively at me. She slid her thumbs in the top of her shorts and slowly pushed down, as she turned to the side, not yet allowing me to see her treasure.
Jan’s shorts fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them and kicked them to the side, standing naked and sideways to me. She wrapped her left arm over her tits and put her right hand on her pussy before turning toward me.
“Is it worth a dollar for you to see the rest?”
I quickly pulled out my wallet and produced a dollar bill, holding it out to her.
“Toss it on the stage.”
I dropped the dollar in front of her, and she raised her hands again to the back of her head, spreading her feet and rotating her hips. “Is this what you want, big guy?”
I stared at her freshly shaved pussy, with landing strip of reddish-brown pubic hair above it. “Oh, yes. We haven’t been together for a week. And you shaved!”
“You know I had my period last week. And I thought you might like to see my pussy this way. But the show’s not over. I want you to pay for a lap dance. Another dollar?”
“What’s a lap dance?”
“You’ll see. I read about it when I found one of dad’s Penthouse magazines. But first … the dollar.”
I pulled out another dollar bill and dropped it in front of her.
“Now, lie down away from the backpack.”
I laid down, and she dropped to her knees, straddling my right leg. She spread her legs open to the sides to press her pussy against my thigh. My cock seemed to have a mind of its own, straining against the denim material toward her open, bare, and exposed target.
Jan rocked her hips, rubbing her pussy on my thigh right over my straining cock! I could feel her wetness soaking my pantleg.
“Hmmm. Am I getting your attention?” she asked.
“I don’t think I can wait much longer,” I said, as I tried to buck my hips.
I reached for her tits, and she snarled, “I said ‘no touching, or this stops now!”
“OK!” I replied as I quickly straightened my arms out to the sides.
“The song’s not over yet,” she said calmly and slyly, as she continued to slide her pussy over my cock trapped in my pants.
I raised my right knee, pressing my thigh and cock into her to get a better feel of her crotch rubbing me.
Jan dropped down placing a hand on either side of my shoulders, brushing her nipples against my shirt. She slid up and down on my leg, rubbing and pressing her clit on me, her nipples barely brushing against my shirt, as she smiled looking down at me. She was enjoying my torment, as she rubbed herself with increasing excitement.
“Can you feel my pussy, big guy?” she teased. “How do I know you really want it, if I don’t see any more dollars?” she asked shyly.
I only lasted a few more seconds. My cock with a mind of its own, suddenly erupting with blasts of cum inside my pants! “AGGGHHH!” I moaned.
Jan felt my hips bucking against her and the wetness of the mess spreading in my pants, and she laughed. She rolled off to my right, lying beside me. She propped herself up on one elbow and reached to the side of the blanket to pick up her tumbler of wine.
“Well, I guess he really did want it,” she said as she chuckled.
I collapsed back on the blanket, feeling spent. “That wasn’t fair. I could have put on a condom to catch this mess. Now my pants are going to be sticky when we leave.” I began unbuckling my belt to attend to the mess inside.
“I didn’t want to ruin the show. And I enjoyed it. It’s your fault if you can’t control it.” She sat there smirking at me as she took sips of wine.
I cleaned as much of the cum as I could with napkins and laid out my pants to dry, as Jan watched. Then she shifted to lean her head against the backpack and spread her legs. “It was exciting turning you on. But now I need to orgasm. I want you to get busy and explore my shaved pussy, until you’re ready again to fuck me.”
“I can do that,” I said. And we enjoyed the rest of the evening, fucking and cumming until I couldn’t get it up anymore.
Community College
After a summer of fun in the park, we started community college. And a determined Jan decided to study more about her new favorite hobby.
She was talking to a co-worker at the diner about sex and some of her experiences with me. So, her co-worker loaned her a book, “The Joy of Sex”. And Jan started practicing … on me. I found this out when we were on one date in the park.
It was a warm Saturday evening, and the sun was going down. As usual, I spread out our picnic blanket, and Jan opened her backpack of light snacks. It was one of those times I managed to acquire a bottle of wine, so I poured two tumblers of wine and handed one to her.
Jan took a sip, then said, “I read in ‘The Joy of Sex’ there’s a sensitive spot under your balls I might stimulate with my tongue. Take off your pants. I want to find it.”
“Just like that? ‘Take off your pants!’ What about you? We usually start by undressing each other.”
“You’ve seen me naked before. And will it really matter if I’m down between your legs sucking under your balls?”
“Well, when you put it that way …” So, I took off my pants and laid back.
Jan crawled down between my spread legs and grabbed my hardening cock. It was beginning to stiffen as I thought about what might be coming. She held it out of her way and ducked her head down. When she tried to reach with her tongue further down, she said, “This isn’t very comfortable. Maybe if you were sitting in a chair.”
“Wait a minute.” I rolled the extra blanket I brought and propped it under me to raise my ass. “There. Is that better?”
She laid down again and raised her chin to the best angle. “Yea, it will do.”
She explored by sucking one of my balls into her mouth. Grasping my cock in her hand, she also stroked it, as I looked down at her. Seeing her in that position excited me even faster than usual. I felt my ball slip from her lips, as she moved her open mouth further down and between them. Her tongue running around the underside of my balls was very different, and my cock stiffened and began jerking in response.
“I think you’ve found it,” I said.
Jan stopped there and focused her mouth and tongue on that spot. Feeling her wet tongue flicking back and forth over the spot was incredible. It was far better than when she found the best spot on the side of my neck to suck! My cock was feeling it and straining as it hardened like never before. I started to breathe faster, and she seemed to notice.
“Mmmm.” I heard her moan, as if savoring the tight skin. She started sucking that spot, like she did on the side of my neck when she wanted to mark me with a hickie.
She stroked my rock-hard cock. And the wet sucking noises she made added to visual and tactile sensory overload. It took less than a minute and I felt like I was about to explode.
“I’m going to cum!” I warned.
Jan stroked faster as she picked her head up to look at the end of my cock.
My first shot erupted, the cum splashing against her mouth. She turned away and the second shot hit the side of her face, and a third shot landed in her hair. She let go of my cock, and got up on her knees, the cum sliding from her chin and dripping to her blouse.
“Yuck!” she said. “This is a mess. Hand me some napkins.”
“Here …” I handed her the napkin, and used one to catch the rest of the drips from my cock. “We usually use condoms… I tried to warn you, but you didn’t stop.”
“That was faster than you’ve ever cum before!”
“I think you found the right spot! It was definitely different.”
As she finished wiping the mess from her face, she said, “Don’t cum on my face, again. I don’t like this.”
“You held my cock in your hand. And you aimed it!”
She sat back beside me. “I wanted to watch it come out. I didn’t expect you to shoot it out that hard so soon. Lesson learned.”
“What else have you read about?” I asked.
She retrieved her tumbler of wine for another sip. “We’re going to try some of the other positions I’ve read about later. You can put your pants back on now. After that cum shot to my face, you’ll need to seduce me.”
I was enjoying the new interest of hers. And as I said before, I can take her directive tone, when I also get what I want.
I learned if she had a particularly fast, intense orgasm, she would quickly say: “Ok. That was it. You can get off me now.” So, I learned her body, controlling her build-up until I achieved my own. I realized by anticipating her change of tone, she was almost training me. I could handle it, and her. I learned to manage both of our expectations.
Over those next two years in community college, Jan’s sarcasm and controlling nature didn’t diminish. She did dramatically improve and refine her flirting methods, as we continued to have fun together. On the other hand, I only marginally improved my social skills. I was still a geek.