%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A Super-Smart Nerd finds himself at the wrong end of his project. |
| The Reluctant Lecher-02 Word count: 2416 * * * * A week later, on Monday, I saw an opportunity to approach Laura with the forbidden knowledge when I noted that I was listed as a substitute teacher for her basic computer class for Friday of that week. Loading the videos onto my laptop, I went to work on Friday, confident in my plan to show the videos to Laura and to caution her to be more careful about what she participated in as far as the sorority scene was concerned. Pretty noble, eh? Just like a big brother. Well, it didn’t quite work out that way, and now I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking when I came up with this plan! When class time arrived, I watched her carefully, and she seemed pretty oblivious to what was being taught, simply taking notes from time to time as the class wore on. Hardly flattering to my teaching style, but I have to confess, I was a bit distracted myself. She was wearing a pretty conservative outfit, a white button-down-the-front blouse and a rather snug pair of shorts that extended to mid-thigh. Sandals rounded out the ensemble, hardly wet dream material but cute nonetheless. I guess the strange part was seeing her with clothes on for a change. Every now and then I could almost make out the faint outline of what I thought might be a camel toe imprint between her thighs when she spread her legs a bit, but it might have been just wishful thinking. After the class, I invited her to the professors’ office to see something that I felt she’d be interested in. She informed me that she had to attend another class across campus right at that moment, but she’d be willing to meet up later. “Later” turned out to be 4:40 PM, just as the last classes were letting out. I was in the office wrapping up the last of the paperwork from the day’s classes when I heard a knock on the door and watched Laura enter the room. Closing the door behind herself, she walked up to the front of my desk and said, “OK, here I am, Professor. You had something you wanted to show me?” My laptop was open on the desktop so I motioned for her to come around to the side so she’d be in a position to see the screen. As she did so, I politely pointed out that I wasn’t a professor, simply a substitute teacher whenever a professor was unable to teach a particular class. To all this, she simply nodded, and waited for me to come to the point of her visit. As the first video began to play, I watched her face carefully for a reaction. It didn’t take long, as she suddenly took in a deep breath and put her hand over her mouth while tears began to well up in her eyes. Just then however, a couple of the others who shared the office broke into the room, chatting away about plans for the weekend, and I had to quickly shut the laptop down to prevent an awkward scene. Turning to Laura, I saw that she’d done her best to compose herself, but I could see that she was borderline. Trying to save the moment, I packed up my things in a rush, and scooted both of us out the door and into the sunlight. Stopping her on the sidewalk, I apologized for the interruption but told her that I really needed to explain that video stuff to her and, against my better judgment, I invited her to my home so I could discuss it in privacy. Hers, of course. I mean, after all, it wasn’t my ass hanging out on the ‘net. She stood there for a moment, nodding her head dumbly, so I jotted down my address and phone number and asked her to drop by around 7:00 PM. I lived only about three blocks from the campus, so I hurried home to clean up the place for company and to get a meal on the stove. * * * * If I’d have thought a moment objectively, I’d have dropped the whole thing and settled for anonymity. After all, she could have had a 250 lb boyfriend who would have been more than happy to crush my little skull to impress his girlfriend. Once I got home, I did the typical bachelor cleaning routine, putting things either back into their place or out of sight, making sure the bathroom had enough toilet paper and spraying some flowery scent into the air to make it smell less like a bear’s den and more like a modern dwelling. I slapped together a quick snack and tried to relax until my guest arrived. Oh, yeah, I put a couple of bottles of wine into the fridge. At least I learned one thing from studying the videos. The time came and went, and I began running uncomfortable little scenarios in my mind: a swat team surrounding my house, her boyfriend deciding how to squash me like a bug or her on her knees outside my house, lighting a match to set fire to it. Finally, about 7:30 PM, there came a soft knock at my door. Peering through the peephole, I saw Laura outside, and she appeared to be alone. Now, that was encouraging, as I wasn’t prepared to deal with a crowd, especially a hostile crowd. Opening the door, I noticed that Laura seemed extremely nervous, and I had to actually urge her to enter the house. When I tried to take her arm to escort her into the living room she jumped away, rubbing her arm where I’d touched it. Definitely not a good sign, I thought. Escorting her into the living room as graciously as I could under the circumstances, I sat her in front of my laptop, which was there because I thought she’d feel more comfortable than back in my “way too cozy” den. She seemed as skittish as the proverbial long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She had also changed clothing since I saw her earlier, and was dressed in a bulky sweatshirt, baggy jeans and loafers, almost as if she wanted to appear as unattractive as possible. I offered her a glass of wine, which she quickly accepted, confirming my theory that wine might indeed, be the consummate icebreaker. Starting up the computer, I explained to her that I surfed the ‘net each night, and suddenly I saw this web-cam video pop up on my monitor a couple of times. I didn’t explain to her that I had a program that hi-jacked such transmissions, instead making it sound like it “just happened.” While the first video ran, I watched her face carefully. As before, it initially displayed shock; she raised her hand to her face, and her eyes started to fill with tears. As the program moved on to the next video recording, Laura got up from the chair and simply stood next to it, staring at the monitor. I began to open my mouth to tell her that everything was all right. Before I could get a word out edgewise she announced, “My mama told me to stay away from wild kids and alcohol, but I wouldn’t listen. Mama said it would end up like this. And now I have to pay for it. It’d kill Mama to see that video, I just know it would.” I was about to reassure her that everything was all right, and that I was just showing her the video to make her be more careful in the future, but she cut me off again. “Mama told me what men want, and what they’d do to get it. ‘Animals,’ she said, ‘just chasing after one thing.’” This remark surprised me, and I unconsciously began to examine her in a little more detail, now that I had her standing directly in front of me instead of on a monitor. Despite the frumpy outfit she was wearing, Laura was quite pretty, and I was enjoying the soft, sensual fragrance of her perfume. A light brunette, her hair tumbled over her shoulders just enough to show what appeared to be natural, soft waves. Her eyes were a very pretty hazel color, although a little damp with emotion, and her lips were full and a bit pouty, as she was apparently trying to show some resolve in the face of her predicament. Her full breasts and rounded hips, too voluptuous to be completely hidden by the sweat shirt and baggy jeans, brought me back to the video that we’d just watched together. Unfortunately, my cock had taken advantage of my inspection of her to once more rise to the occasion, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by my reluctant guest. Again, as I was about to explain to her that I had no sinister intentions towards her, she interrupted me. “I can see that Mama was right, you just can’t wait to get your filthy hands on me.” This interruption thing was getting to be annoying, I thought, particularly when she’d been making me out to be the bad guy and, up until now anyway, I felt I was trying to help her. Sure enough, as soon as I opened my mouth, she broke in once more. “Well, you’ve trapped me now, but I won’t give you the pleasure of ripping my clothes off, you bastard!” Stamping her foot at me as she finished that declaration, she immediately began pulling the sweatshirt over her head. I actually began to put my hands up to get her to stop, but by that time I was pissed! Bastard? What the hell was all that about? I was still sitting next to the laptop in shock as Laura removed her sweatshirt and threw it on the floor at my feet. Snorting at me once again, she unbuttoned her jeans, dropped them around her feet, and kicked them at me. Now I was looking at the real thing, not an image on my monitor, standing before me in nothing but bra and panties and obviously pissed as hell! My immediate reaction was two-fold; my tongue became tangled in my teeth, making me speechless, and my cock suddenly decided to become absolutely rampant! Once again, she stared at my crotch, her face twisted in disgust. “My mama was absolutely right,” she continued. “Men are pigs!” As she finished saying that, she reached behind her back to grasp her bra strap but hesitated for a moment or two. Then, apparently making up her mind, she said “Well, you’ve already seen more of me than my family has, pervert!” Unsnapping her bra, she flung it at me too, hitting me across my knees. I barely noticed however, as my attention was riveted to her beautiful tits! In her excitement, her breathing had gotten deeper and faster and was making them quiver right in front of my face! Her nipples resembled little pink bullets, and the surrounding areola were tightly wrinkled in emotion, probably anger. No matter, I was still speechless… Standing in front of me, hands on her hips, Laura again snorted at me in disgust and, hooking her fingers into the top of her white granny panties, she yanked them down, dropping them around her ankles. She kicked them at me, kicked off her loafers and assumed a martyr’s posture, completely naked, hands at her sides and face looking upward towards–who knows what. I was pissed, really pissed by then! On the other hand, I was confronted with an entirely naked, sumptuous, hunk of extremely sexy “girl next door,” who apparently was prepared for “the very worst!” from her point of view. I just looked at her for a while, until she finally cracked, dropping her gaze to meet mine, and exclaiming in anger, “Damn! Now you expect me to act like a common harlot, pleasuring you! Mama told me that men would expect that kind of submission! I’ll do it, but don’t even think that I enjoy it! Just make sure that my mama never sees those videos.” “Harlot?” I thought. Who the hell still talks like that? Once she finished her rant, she dropped to her knees in front of me and began unbuttoning my pants. Pulling them off and returning to my boxers, she reached into the fly and liberated Mr. Boner, apparently much to her surprise. Springing into the daylight, it bounced in front of her, while she stared at it in confusion. Confusion? Based on her behavior on film and over the past few minutes, Laura shouldn’t have been confused by the sight of a cock, but she approached my very stiff member with the caution usually reserved for approaching a cobra. Watching me extra carefully, she reached out hesitantly to grasp my erection, carefully fondling it, squeezing it gently and, eventually, sliding her hand up and down along the shaft. “Mama said that a man’s brains were always ruled by his penis,” she mumbled. On that note, Laura slowly lowered her head, and breathed her soft, warm breath across the head of my cock. Watching her face just inches from the head began to stir stronger feelings within my psyche, and I brought my hands to her head, and guided her face to it, waiting for her mouth to open and taste me. Slowly, hesitantly, her lips parted and allowed my cock to enter. Feeling her tongue tentatively running up and down the shaft, I got the feeling that she was a complete novice at this, and I began to worry about the introduction of teeth, given her shitty mood as she “submitted” to me. Sure enough, I soon felt her incisors scraping across the top of my cock, and I had to grab her hair and growl “No teeth!” My gruffness was not due to anger; it was due to fear! But, of course, our little dramatist thought the worst of my attitude, and announced: “My mama told me men were brutes, never satisfied.” Having expressed her disdain, she settled in to giving me a fairly respectable blow job. This was not where I expected to be when I started this whole thing, but watching my cock sliding in and out of this lovely creature’s mouth took all of the Boy Scout out of me for the moment. * * * * H -  |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
