The Geek Will Inherit the Earth

"Well, hey, I was kinda hoping...." I said with a laugh. Her face flashed through shock into relief as she realised I was joking, and the tension crumbled from the atmosphere like frost on metal under a blowtorch. Her beautiful, sparkling smile danced across her face again, and she took a sip of her wine.

"So what do you fancy; Chinese, Indian, Thai, Bolivian - whatever the hell that might be - or Pizza?" I asked, flicking through a stack of takeaway menus.

"You had me at Chinese. D'you want me to order? I did Eastern Languages at Uni. It always helps get free stuff." Listening to Becca order was like stepping into a scene from Wayne's World. I wished she could have been dubbed into English. I wondered if I might end up having to fight her father for defiling her family honour over her desk, not to mention all over her tits. I smiled again at the memory, and the hope of what was to come.

I took our wineglasses over to the sofa, and sat down, for the first time, on what was in the brochure as a luxury, reclining leather suite. Becca unzipped her boots, and walked over to the aircon control where she turned it up a couple of degrees. She came over to the sofa and curled up beside me, my arm fitting neatly around her, her head nesting on my chest and her soft, fruit-scented hair again filling my consciousness. Absent-mindedly, my arm caressed the soft curve of her breast through her lingerie, and we kissed, chatted laughed and whispered for what might have been an hour. When the door buzzer went, and the takeaway arrived, the delivery guy apologised for the delay (apparently, according to Bex) and explained that there were a couple of extra dishes in there to thank us for ordering. I overpaid the guy, which I'd now discovered I really enjoyed doing, just to see the happy faces on the people for whom an extra £20 was a big deal, although I got the feeling that as my (very) personal banking advisor, Bex wasn't too impressed.

Packet after packet of food came out of the big white bag. Bex explained what everything was, and tried to teach me how to use chopsticks. She fed me weird, beige coloured food, and marked their spring rolls out of ten. She spilt enough sauce down my shirt that clothes started coming off and, since I didn't even know where the washing machine was, let alone how to use it, clothes ended up strewn all over the place. Gradually we found ourselves on the floor in front of the sofa, chatting freely, laughing and totally relaxed in each other's' presence. As occasional touches and kisses gave way to fondling, stroking and massaging, the widespread remnants of the food became forgotten, and my desperate thirst for the morning's sensations re-established its full control of my mind.

Despite how naked Becca had seemed when she arrived, I was amazed how many more items of clothing were there to be removed. Her basque, as she called it, was fastened with a million tiny buttons, and the rhythmic motion of undoing these one by one was erotica itself. She kissed me between each one, and stroked and kissed my bare chest as I did. My eyes wandered and my head span as more and more cleavage, then nipples, then midriff came into view. As the basque vanished behind the sofa, her enthralling and enticing breasts stood, firm-peaked and heaving with every breath, before me. The intricacies of a suspender belt, like the ones that spring open at the simplest touch on the videos, became an infuriating, teasing challenge of mechanical engineering. Her Pussy, like the prize on a gameshow, was calling aromatically to an organic, barbaric awareness deep in my subconscious. It was tantalisingly visible through and around the soft, cloying fabric of her slender knickers, yet was encapsulated in this tender, feminine yet insurmountable prison. Becca laughed as I twisted, tweaked and manipulated the infuriating fastening with minimal success, until at last both were free, and access to remove her stockings was taken full advantage of. Finally, those delicate, and now visibly moistened panties were within my grasp. I kissed her pussy through them, then began to lick around her folds through the stubborn cotton. I felt her move away.

"Come on," she said, back in her sultry voice again. "Bedroom this way?" she half asked and half told me. I stopped to turn the light off behind me, giving up when I realised I had no clue where the switch was, and I arrived to find Becca laid out across my bed in what could only be characterised as a ravageable manner, and, tiredness forgotten, I had every intention, and a urgent, pressing need, to do just that. My jeans and boxer shorts vanished into dark corners of my yet unexplored bedroom, and as I climbed on to the bed to kiss this mysterious beauty, I felt her hand receive and caress my already firm cock into full rigidity.

"As I promised, I am yours. You are amazing, and I want you. I want you to fulfil my desires, and I want to fulfil whatever crazy dreams are inside that brilliant mind of yours, but tonight, I am yours to command."

"Kiss me" I said, as our bodies clicked together like a USB connector and port, and we fell against each other in the most tender of kisses. As we moved against each other, I sensed that her knickers had now gone the same way as my entire wardrobe, and I felt the unique warmth and moist invitation of my now fully erect cock stroking across her labia. I lifted my face away from hers, and lifted her knee with my hand, exposing her gorgeous, intoxicating pussy. I allowed my fingers a moment to stroke and dance at her opening, and took a moment to caress her clitoris between finger and thumb before sliding my hand round behind her, and I lifted my body forward and up to her entrance.

I caressed her perfect, sculpted backside as I positioned my rock-hard member at her opening, then began to feed myself into her gently. I felt her lips part around me, and once my now swollen head opened her around me, I stroked my length into her firmly. I breathed in her scent as I drew myself out again, and sighed out the years of frustration and rejection as I slid smoothly into her to the hilt. I set up a gentle rhythm as her labia danced and gripped around my cock like waves lapping on a beach. As the seconds became minutes, her sighs became moans, then became invocations and then shouts of joy. Her pussy started to pulse and throb around me, I gave in to my lust and fatigue. With my excitement at a world of opportunity and privilege unfolding before me, like the final blast of a glorious firework, I came hard into her, as wave upon wave of cataclysmic, orgasmic bliss coursed through us, and we returned to earth with sighs, and then silence.

As my length slowly relaxed in her warm, moist pussy, and her muscles gripped and pulsed against my tender shaft, I wondered, for the first time, if this was what it was to be making love. As Becca and I rolled apart, I could see in her eyes that she was not yet satisfied, and there was a hunger in her gaze that was not yet fulfilled. She kissed me again, and this filled my attention, but her body's movement against me suggested her own hand had absentmindedly taken up residence on her own pussy, and as I realised she was stroking herself, I broke off the kiss, and pulled her back down to the bed.

"I see you're not done yet. Let me help you." I said, remembering what she'd said about following my instructions. "Your task is to teach me. Show me how to make your pussy explode in delight, the way you do for me."

Bex sighed as she lifted her hand away from her pussy, her lips now red and engorged, and her raised, smooth clit standing prominently like a boulder on a hillside. "We need to start slow. I've already cum once, and if you jump straight in here", she said as she gestured towards her clit, "I'll be a useless heap in minutes. The trick is here." She ran her finger along the edge of her labia, down below the lips of her moist portal of pleasure, stroking herself with her fingertip and nail, and teasing herself as she did. Building up in circles, moving steadily across her opening, stroking down one side and up the other, she gradually increased the area of her hand that came into contact with her pussy from a fingertip, to the flat side of her finger, and then she introduced a further finger. I could see that the palm of her hand was now lightly feathering across her clit as she moved, and I could see her pleasure building.

She stopped so suddenly that I was worried something was wrong, and took my hand in hers, pulling me down towards her. She took my hand in hers, and resumed the spinning dance over her warm, pulsing pussy.

"Now put your finger in me" she breathed, earthily. "Just one, not too far."

As my middle finger slipped between her pussy lips, her grip on my hand lightened, and her eyes rolled back in her head. I let my first and last fingers stroke her labia again, whilst the heel of my hand gently pressed against her clit as my sheathed finger now stroked the inside of her most intimate pathway. Her words dried up as she gave herself over to the sensations. If I'd thought becoming a millionaire would give me a sense of power and accomplishment, seeing her beautiful, toned body writhe under the ministrations of my fingers blew this away.

As her volume and moisture level increased, I lifted my hand up, and slid my fourth finger down alongside my middle finger, now reaching deep into her, and as a pair, the two fingers stroked the inside of her pussy, finding the smooth, round bundle of nerves within.

Bex ground her body down into my hand as she moaned and wriggled again, coming hard, moaning again and again, squeezing around me as she did.

Now christened in sweat, her face shone with relief and relaxation as she pulled my hand away from her pussy and kissed it, pulling my fingertips into her mouth, and tasting them with her tongue. As if high on her own scent, her eyes rolled back into her head again, and I realised she was still cumming. She pulled me down onto the bed to kiss me fully, and we relaxed naked in each other's arms. As the excitement of the day drifted away, I felt Bex slip out from under me as I gave myself up to a deep and contented sleep.

It was dark, in the early hours of the morning when I woke up, naked and alone. I looked around me but Becca, and her clothes, had gone, leaving just her perfume on the pillow and sheets. I curled up and slept deeply, dreaming of what tomorrow might bring.

When I woke again, it was late morning. I sniffed Bex's pillow, and happy that she was still real, I left the fond reminders behind and walked into the bathroom. I don't know why, but I'd completely forgotten to pick up a new wash kit. I found a toothbrush, toothpaste and some shower gel by a big, illuminated mirror, and spent a full ten minutes trying to work out how to switch the shower on until, stepping into it, I discovered that about four water jets were triggered automatically as you walked in, along with floor lights, and unless I'm very much mistaken, some warm air from somewhere.

Revived, I walked naked through my apartment, picking up stray cushions, empty Chinese takeaway boxes, and reliving each moment that led to them being where they were, with Bex's fabulous body and fantastic outfit the star of every memory. It occurred to me that I still owed her a night on the town, and that if I were to book that this weekend, she'd be likely to bring a repeat performance. That would give me two nights to recover, and get my life back in order.

I filled the morning with a trip round a supermarket for food, toiletries and so on, then a trip to a gents clothes store for the basics I should've thought of yesterday, and a brief phone call to the college to explain I wouldn't be in for the next couple of weeks. I'd thought about withdrawing from my computing course then and there, but I remembered my friends on the course, the teachers who, despite their frustrating fixations with homework and lateness had made valuable comments on some of my code and had at least made me think about some of my exercises, so just giving them a buffer seemed the way forward.

Finally, looking more like the successful developer I was starting to realise I now am, and less like the pubescent 18-year old lucky bastard I knew was lurking within, I turned my attention to the more fundamental questions of what I was going to drive, and where I was going to take this stunning young piece of ass on a date in a couple of nights' time.

As lunchtime came round, I was seriously trying to google whether an Aston Martin, a Ferrari or a Lamborghini was within my price range, and whether you can even insure one at ANY price, when you're only 18, and have been driving a year. It turns out that yes, they were, and yes I could insure it, but the thought of spending nearly 2 months instalments on a car before I'd sorted out a house deposit (and before they'd even arrived) just made me feel a bit sick. As I walked into McDonalds for lunch, a ten year old black Porsche 911 Cabrio came round the corner, darkened windows and matt black alloys making the car look like a shadow, and I knew then that I didn't need to be shopping at the ridiculous end of the market, I just needed to be looking for something fun.

I met Mum at 2pm that afternoon, and she was a bundle of nerves. Before we went to the bank, we sat down at a coffee shop, and had the first frank and serious talk we'd had since Dad died. I told her about the app I'd written, although that seemed to go over her head. I also told her what I thought of her son-of-a-bitch boyfriend, but that I understood she was lonely, and needed someone to take care of her. I just explained that I wished she'd picked someone nicer. I told her my suggestions about the house, which she loved, and she welled up as the reality of being mortgage free began to hit her.

"I never thought I'd be able to retire", she said almost tearfully. "You know how much I've hated working at that crook of a letting agency the last 10 years, and how the money is rubbish. If there's no mortgage, I'd be able to live off Dad's pension, even if I were to stop working this year! I wouldn't need Drew's money, or have to put up with his shit."

"I'm not going to tell you to leave him, Mum. That's got to be your choice. And to be clear, none of this is conditional on you. If you're happy for me to take on your mortgage, then I'll do that straight away -- like I said, I can comfortably cover it, and pay off the mortgage on my own place by the end of the next 12 months, so the house will stay yours, and the deeds, equity and all that, they'll be yours too. You'll need to come with me to the bank, and to talk to the girl who looks after me there."

I don't know if Mum just knows me too well, or if she heard something in my voice, but the mention of this 'girl' piqued her interest.

"I see... I hope you're not letting this go to your head," she offered, "or letting anyone take advantage?"

"Don't worry, Mum, I know what I'm doing", I laughed, wondering to myself if that was really true.

Back at the bank, Bex spotted me arriving, and shut her till up and came out to meet me as I stood in the queue for the tills. Mum grinned knowingly as I fumbled my words around her, and she chuckled at what she later described as the 'obvious chemistry' between us. If she'd had any idea just how far past chemistry into biology we'd got last night, it would have been a very different conversation!

I had to restrain my glances at Bex's ass and legs as she walked ahead, and as the lift doors closed behind us it was all I could do not to jump into her arms and kiss her again. I noticed her grins were a little less professional than last time, but I still giggled quietly when she called me 'Mr Aston' again. When we went back into that same office, I looked with fondness at the desk where I'd perched as I spurted cum over her perfect tits just a day before.

The mortgage paperwork took longer than the account, and would take a few weeks to go through processing. Also, a mortgage specialist had to come join us to do the final paperwork. The cold atmosphere to the few, brusque exchanges between them made me wonder if this might be the guy that Bex used to date. When Bex explained my credit situation to him, he lit up, and congratulated me, asking me if I wanted to book in an appointment to see him about my own place straight away, but I told him I was happy to put that on the back burner until I could buy outright. He pushed it again a couple of times over the two-hour appointment, and I could tell he could sense a big commission within his reach but slipping away, and I finally had to tell him to stop before he got the message. He left shortly after, without any of the usual courtesies, and when I turned to Bex, the play of formality was gone.

"Well, that guys a dick!" I laughed, and Bex laughed so hard she had to stop herself from tipping her chair over. "Is that your ex?"

"You noticed that, huh?" she conceded. "Sorry, but your situation isn't what you'd call 'run of the mill', and you needed a specialist. He's the best we've got, even if, as you say, he's an utter, utter tool."

"Sorry, let's do some introductions properly. Mum, this is my friend Rebecca, or Bex. Bex, as you know, this is my Mum, Debbie."

"Nice to meet you properly, Mrs Alton," Bex said, still choking back tears of laughter. "I hope we get to chat again properly sometime soon. It's nice that Tony's sharing some of his new Millions, eh?"

The comment locked in the air, hanging between my worried look, and Mum's shocked expression, for the second it took Bex to realise that she might have said too much and given something important away.

"Sorry, Tony. I've said too much," she panicked, jumping up to leave. "I'll leave you to talk. Call me." Bex disappeared out the door, and I breathed out as her ass, with the soft flesh that I knew so well, and fantasised about so constantly, left with her.

As Mum's shocked face disappeared, what was left was the knowingly smug grin of someone who just knew there was something going on here. Still, she said nice things, rather than getting into the 'who is she?' or 'you never said you had Millions!' conversations I'd been expecting. Instead, she went on her way, although I knew there'd be questions to be answered later.

As we walked back to her car, we chatted like friends for the first time ever. I was asked how long I'd known Bex, and whether we were 'serious' (which her generation obviously took to mean 'shagging'). I promised we were just getting to know each other, and that I'd take things slow. Obviously, it doesn't pay to tell people like Mum too much. We had another chat about Drew, and how we'd go about calming him down. She explained that the romance and charm he'd displayed all the time when they were working together, and first dating, had quickly disappeared once they were living together, and how his drinking, his temper, and his porn subscriptions that she was now paying for had built a massive wall between them that was proving difficult to break down, or even see past. She told me she wanted him gone, but she was worried about broaching the subject. I became worried.

"Has he hurt you, Mum? Is he going to kick off when you throw him out?"

She was keen to play down my fears, but I wasn't sure I trusted her.

"He's never laid a finger on me, don't worry. And he never would, either. I just don't think he's the man I thought I'd invited into our home. In fact, I'm sorry I ever did."

"I'm glad we can talk about this, Mum. We need to talk more. Let's have coffee sometime next week. I suspect I can fit something into my schedule." I added with a grin, an idea forming, quietly.

As her car pulled away, I sat for a moment, and googled 'private detectives near me', and looked at the office locations nearby. I set off with a bounce in my step to the one just down the road.