Geek Girlfriend

Geek Girlfriend 2 by Olivia Palmer

(tg, M, exhib, oral, anal, ws)

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This story is a work of fiction and does not purport to depict any real people, places, or situations. It is entirely fantasy and should be treated as such. This story describes explicit sexual acts between human beings of various ages, gender, and sexual persuasions. If this type of content offends you or if you are not of legal age to view adult content, then do not read it.

Do not repost or redistribute without prior written permission of the author. One copy may be saved for private use, insofar as that use does not extend to personal or financial gain by use of the author's work without consent.

Copyright 2016 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved.

Please email the author with comments or questions (or story suggestions!): olivia.octavia.palmer@gmail.com

Next morning, we were still in bed after ten o'clock. Macie was already an hour late. She finally called and begged off work.

"Yeah, Dan, I'm with him. Yeah, Mr. Milkshake." I groaned and buried my face in the pillows. As she talked, Macie traced a slow finger lightly up and down over the crack of my naked ass. "But listen, dude. Listen. How many times have I ever – ever – asked off? Huh?"

I could hear a muffled, fumbling series of hems and haws at the other end of the line as she held her cell patiently to her ear. Then she cut the guy off. "Yeah. Never. Not once."

Her fingertip slid tantalizingly low, over my taint, onto my balls. I shivered. My cock was bent painfully beneath me, between my body and the bed, and struggled to stiffness. I shifted a little and moved my knees apart, helping free my straightening dick and give her better feels at the same time. Her finger began a feathery downward stroke over my sac – down, then she'd move her finger off and back to the top, then down again – over and over.

It was all I could do not to groan even louder. I felt sweat began to pop out over my back and sides. I shivered, anticipating.

There was more mumbling and fumbling on the other end of the line, then silence.

"Tell you what, Dan," Macie continued, her voice almost a sneer. "How about I quit? How about this is our last fucking conversation and you mail my fucking check to my fucking PO box and you go fucking FUCK yourself?"

That was a turn of events. I reluctantly rolled over onto my hip and stared up at her in concern, revealing my fat, rigid friend. Her glasses were off, her face was flushed, her cheeks so pretty and pink. Her clear gray eyes flashed down to my crotch, and she grinned. Her mouth tilted up all wicked on one side, showing teeth, and she just stared at my dick for a few silent beats.

Then she let loose.

"This is LITERALLY THE FIRST FUCKING TIME I HAVE ASKED OFF IN THREE GODDAMN YEARS YOU FAT FUCKING PIG!"

I suddenly remembered how rowdy Macie could be. How instantly On and intensely emotional. Like in the bar last night, at Jerry the bartender. Like in the bathroom – oh fuck, yeah – how sudden and strong she could be. I found myself staring at her puffy, perfect little breasts as her chest rapidly rose and fell. For a moment I worried about her job, but then all I could think about was the thing already risen between her crossed legs, her slender short dick, and how good it tasted. How perfect it felt in my mouth.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

Macie pulled the phone away, killed the call, and flung it onto the floor. She took a few deep breaths, still staring at my cock, still wolfish and hungry-looking. Her nipples were fat and stiff. All her piercings were out, and I found myself counting the holes, memorizing every detail of every part of her, waiting for her to calm down. Her long soft hair fell in mussy tumbles of light brown all about her shoulders. It was highlighted blonde in little streaks here and there. A strand was stuck in the corner of her mouth. I could've kissed her for a week.

Finally, it began to feel weird. Took a while, yeah, but blood was rushing away from my brain to somewhere far more fun, after all. Still, I did manage to come to my senses. A little bit.

"I'm so sorry, I really am," I muttered. "Why don't you just go into work anyway? I'll still be here tonight."

She blinked. Chuckled. Low and light. She reached up a long slim hand and pulled the hair out of her mouth. Rolled her eyes.

"Relax, Dad," she teased. Then she bent down toward me, her hair falling all around my face as her lips closed in on mine. "He'd already hung up."

Her tongue licked at my mouth, then she bit my lower lip lightly between her teeth. Her hand closed softly around my cock. Squeezed. I gasped. Groaned from my toes.

"I'm just fuckin with you, bro." She pulled her face back for a moment and winked.

"Relax. It's cool."

Then our tongues danced. She stroked me and swirled her palm across the head of my dick. I rolled onto my back. She lay on top me, still kissing, letting go of me so our dicks could mash together. I put my hands on her perfect round little ass and pressed her pelvis down hard.

We kissed and we kissed and we kissed. She rotated her hips against mine, then began to hump me, sliding her small skinny dick up and down my length.

Then she rolled off, onto her back, and raised her long sexy feet into the air. I climbed between her legs and slid my cock against her moist, ready hole. We'd fucked less than an hour before, the third time we'd fucked since I'd gotten her home last night. It would be a miracle if I could come at all, but hell – I was hard as steel and my resistance was gone.

I wanted to feel her hot insides again. I wanted to plow deep into her tight molten ass. I wanted to hear her yelp like a little puppy. I wanted to watch her blush and close those pretty eyes and give herself to me, once again. I wanted her little dick to spurt up onto her belly, to shoot those thin slimy ropes. And I wanted to lick it all up, drool it back into her mouth, and kiss some more. Start it all over again. And never stop.

I slid my arms over the backs of her tight thighs, bending her legs toward her chest. Her heels came to rest on my shoulders. I reached down and held her at the elbows, pinning her arms to the bed. I leaned forward. I entered her.

It was her turn to groan. "Oh, God. Oh yes," she panted. "Jackie, fuck. Fuck me so fuckin hard! God...."

So yeah, apparently the next morning it was Take Your Transgender Girlfriend To Work Day.

Macie, in her short plum-colored leather mini-skirt and matching plum-colored tube top, barefoot, stalked just behind me as I entered the department's wing on the top floor, heading for my office. I still had papers to grade, and I'd left them sitting on my desk since last Wednesday. It was late Sunday morning, nearly noon, in the middle of my official Day Two with Macie. Unfortunately duty had called – in the form of nine emails from students wondering when their grades would post. The semester ended on Tuesday, and I had one hell of a lot of work left to do.

"So this," she whispered, peering all around, "is where the magic happens...."

My office was nothing, tiny, with one chair for me and two for visitors, separated by a desk. I didn't even have a window. Three walls were covered with bookshelves, littered with all manner of professorial crap. Books, stacks of papers, gifts from students, odds and ends. Macie wandered over and plucked a pair of glasses off a shelf.

"These belong to a girl," she said, narrowing her eyes at the rims, then at me. "Is this a memento? Of, like, some really awesome blowjob?"

If she only knew! I rolled my eyes and quickly collected the papers on the desk, shoved them into my satchel with my laptop. So far no one else was working in the department. It was still relatively early on a Sunday, but no doubt there would soon be several colleagues showing up to finish their work, too. I didn't want to have to explain Macie to any of the stiffs I worked with. Not that day, anyway.

"Did she swallow it all?" Macie pressed, grinning, watching me color up. "Did you pass her, or did she have to take up the ass, too?"

I rolled my eyes even more dramatically and ignored her leer, led her back into the hall, and locked the door behind me. We hit the steps and headed down, out the back corner exit of the building. We'd almost made it to my faculty parking spot when the worst person possible pulled into the lot. The department chair. Frances.

Fuck.

She parked her little VW and killed the engine. She sat and stared as I reached my Jeep, parked only a few empty spaces away. I tossed my satchel in the back and jumped in, cranking the engine, ready in an instant to back out.

But Macie had stopped. She still stood on the sidewalk, twenty feet away. Her phone was up to her ear. She was talking to somebody and gesturing with her free hand over her head.

"Yeah, Mom, yeah," I heard her say, her voice almost whining. "I know. I know! I'll call her tonight, I promise."

Frances climbed out of her car, shouldered her own satchel, and slowly – like a geriatric fucking glacier – crept past Macie on the sidewalk. Macie hardly noticed, stepping almost unconsciously to the side, her bare feet in the short grass, still negotiating with her mother. Frances looked her up and down as she went by, then looked back at me. I pretended to mess with the radio. The she ducked her head and proceeded regally up the walk, tight, tense. More than ever.

Great. Fucking great.

Then Macie was beside me, climbing in.

"Who was that?" she asked, sliding her phone back inside her tiny purse. Her skirt had slid up her ass as she'd sat, and her panties were showing. I stared hard at the bulge in her crotch, barely visible but nevertheless very much there, and then I glanced up in a panic at Frances and her distant, stiff back.

"Well fuck, dude, what's wrong?" Macie pressed. She looked at Frances, just then entering the back stairwell door, her short silver hair bright in the Sunday light. Then she looked back at me. "Were those HER fucking glasses? Are you into THAT, too?"

I sighed, shook my head, and looked over into Macie's laughing gray eyes.

"Yeah, sure," I played along. "She's got a spare pair in everybody's office, you know. She's the department slag."

"Oh God!" Macie howled. "Granny pussy!"

We fled campus.

I drove Macie back to The Pump, where she quickly unchained her scooter, plopped onto the seat with her skirt still up around her waist, and tore off. I followed her halfway across town to her apartment. At every light there were nothing but stares, glares, and lust aimed in her direction. I sat behind her in the Jeep and couldn't help but wonder at how hard my heart was pounding. Macie ignored the looks from the other drivers, bending over often and examining her makeup in the little side mirror, sometimes winking in it, back at me.

I was hard again.

I was going to fuck her again very soon.

Her apartment was shared with three other girls. Traditional girls. Sort of. All still asleep.

Two were on the floor in front of the couch, naked, snoring beside an empty bottle of Smirnoff and a half-eaten bag of cheese puffs. Both were fat, covered in tattoos and piercings, and hairy. One was quite a lot more muscular and wore her hair in a crew cut, while the other was shorter, softer, and had a head full of black curls. The were spooning. An obese tabby cat lay curled just above their heads, purring like a perfectly tuned Corvette. Macie silently bent over them and gently slid the blanket from the back of the couch over their slumbering, sexy bodies.

She led me back to her bedroom.

There were two beds. On one of them was the other girl, lying on her belly, her arms tucked up underneath her. She was small and skinny, blonde-haired, wearing a t-shirt that rode halfway up her back. Her feet were filthy, like she never wore shoes. She was bare-assed, with a set of red lips tattooed on the left cheek. On the right cheek was a series of dark dots, leading steadily in towards the crack. Macie tiptoed over and pointed out the dots, grinning.

"Cigarette burns," she mouthed, doubling over in silent laughter, shaking her head.

It took a few minutes of quiet work, but soon Macie had three kitchen garbage bags filled with clothes, shoes, and bathroom things. She stuffed her own laptop in a backpack and thrust it into my hands. Then she wrote a quick note and stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet: "Gone to get fucked for a while – call if you need me, bitches! M."

I let her lead me out, back to her scooter and my Jeep. Back onto the road. We returned to the university part of town, to a little pub I didn't even know existed, tucked down a narrow one-way street around the corner from the Main Street park. While I went around the block and parallel parked she drove right up to the door onto the sidewalk, killed her scooter's engine, and went inside. I quickly made sure the garbage bags were secure, locked up, and wandered in after her.

The bricks next to the door were painted with the name of the place: Allan's Anytime Tavern. A weathered piece of paper was plastered beneath it: Home of the Hercules Burger and Half-price drafts. Another paper beneath that: Members Only. Yet another: Clothing Optional Club.

Oh. Boy.

I took a deep breath and entered.

It was a dark, long, Irish-style pub. The bar disappeared into the smoky distance, where the room widened. I could see two dart boards beneath hard yellow lights, a couple pool tables, a narrow back hallway. A row of two-seater tables extended down the other wall of the place, mostly unoccupied. Those who were seated at the tables were busy eating, drinking, talking. Most were clothed. Some were not. In the dim light it was hard to tell whether to get excited or not. Five men sat at the bar, all fully nude, all beer-bellied and much older than me. They were watching European soccer on the big television behind the bar, silent.

There was a table just inside the door, where Macie stood waiting for me. She was signing in a book, then handed me the pen to sign my name beside hers.

A short plump woman sat on a folding chair behind the table, smoking a Marlboro, drinking Coors Light. Her hair was bright pink, streaked with black, and her round face was entirely tattooed, pierced, and altogether frightening. She was also nude. Her fat tits rested atop her ample belly. Her nipples were pierced with thick silver studs. Her whole torso was tattooed, as were her arms and legs. Every inch of her skin was exotically inked. Celtic, Mayan, Egyptian symbols, patterns, and signs. Tribal designs. Swirls and whorls of reds and blacks.

The woman studied me up and down. Winked. Grinned. She wore pink braces. She might have been forty, but she could have been younger by a lot or older by even more. It was impossible to tell. Behind her along the wall were small lockers stacked three high, like from a middle school.

"This is Betty," Macie chirped, flipping a wrist at the smoking, drinking, slightly terrifying woman. "Betty, this is Jack." She laid her long pretty hand flat on my chest. "My man."

Betty nodded and raised her can to me. "Nice to meet ya, babe," she slurred. "Welcome to our little club."

I returned the nod and then followed my lady toward the back. One of the couples sitting at the tables waved to her as we passed, but Macie just waved back quickly and kept on. They were two college-aged girls, in flowery hippy dresses, barefoot and stoned. A smoldering bong sat between them on the table, along with a plate of cut veggies and some hummus. A few tables past them was another couple, about my age, a skinny woman and stocky man, both nude and laughing, his foot pressed up against her crotch as they sipped from pint glasses, lost in their flirtations. A third couple, two tables beyond them, was also nude, each reading his own book, both with soft small penises resting sleepily atop their fat hairy balls. They were grad students, by the looks of them. Nudist nerds?

Macie stopped at the second-to-last table, back near the end of the bar where the room opened up to hold the dart boards and pool tables. Around the corner I could now see a few old upright video games – Galaga, Centipede, Pac-man – with a naked man on a stool in front of each one. No one played the darts or pool. A jukebox beside the entrance to the hallway cranked an old Dead b-side. "Box of Rain". Hadn't heard that in forever.

"OK, here's our spot," Macie declared, pulling out the chair for me. It was just barely inside the circle of light. "I'll go order. You like a sandwich?"

I nodded, sitting, a little stunned and expectant. I was wearing my Sperry's and jeans, an old rust-colored polo, and a goofy smile. I was half-hard. I already had a bit of a contact high from the smoke wafting over from the hippies. I was hungry.

And I craved to slurp some girl dick.

Macie padded on her bare feet to the bar and leaned far over, up on her toes. Her skirt rode high on her ass, and I just stared. The bulge of her little balls, stuffed toward the back of her crotch, tucked beneath her butt, was plain to see in the contrasting light coming in from one side. I shifted my dick, growing fully hard at my touch, and held my hand there, pressing it. She called out to the one bartender, who was down by the five naked soccer fans.

"Yo, Tammy!" she yelled. "Can we please get a couple Cubans and some Coronas over here?"

Tammy raised a thumbs-up, then returned to pouring a draft for one of the naked guys. Macie came back to me at the table, but she didn't sit down.

"Come on, baby," she purred, holding out her hand. "Let's fuck before we eat."

I hesitated and looked around, wondering who might have heard. Nobody paid us any attention. She grinned and cocked her head. "Or you could just sit there and hold your dick. Your choice."

I hesitated no more.

Down the long narrow hallway, through a side door near the back fire exit, Macie led me by the hand into a small break room with a few lockers on one wall and a doorway that led to a tiny private bathroom. There was a couch, a card table with three chairs around it, and at least a dozen old posters of classic pinup girls on the walls. A loose deck of cards, two ash trays, and a lighter sat on the table. On the couch was a slumbering bearded old man with his hair tied back in a loose tattered ponytail. He was naked and holding his crotch in both hands as he slept, lying on his side, with his ankles primly crossed. On the floor in front of the couch was a small pile of clothes and a pair of low-heeled strappy sandals.

"That's Allan," Macie whispered. "Betty's dad. We better not wake him up."

She took me into the bathroom and closed the door, kneeling in front of me. Her hands expertly undid my jeans, slid them down in one motion along with my boxer briefs, and freed me. My cock popped right into her waiting mouth. One hand cupped my balls with exquisite care. The other snaked fingers into the crack of my ass, prodding gently at my hole.

I braced my hands back against the sink and slowly fucked her face, quietly panting, looking down at her soft brown curls. After a few minutes she stood up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and kissed me. I smelled myself on her face, tasted my pre-cum in her mouth, my musk. I growled a little, reached up and pinched at her fat hard nipples. I pushed her tube top up beneath her armpits, kneading her puffy tits and devouring her perfect mouth.

Macie reached down and freed her own cocklet, then pressed it hard against my own. She put them together in one hand and we both began to fuck the ring her fingers made, jacking like that for several minutes while we kissed. Finally, breathlessly, she pulled back from my face, let go of our cocks, and stepped out of her panties. She threw them in the sink and then put one bare foot up on the toilet seat. She reached back and spread her perfect little round ass, wiggling her balls.

"Fuck me Jack," she whispered. "Fuck me so fucking hard, baby."

I knelt behind her and shoved my face into her crack, my tongue thrusting deeply into her damp, rich-smelling, wrinkled hole. It was sweet and warm and perfect. I tasted my old semen, her ass drool, and a little sweat. I slurped and sucked and munched. Macie thrust back at me and groaned.

"Oh God, Jackie," she begged. "Put it in me now. Put it in!"

I stood and pressed my cockhead against her girlie asshole. Her pussy. I grasped her hip in one hand, held myself by the base in the other. I pulled her hard against me and shoved myself in.

Macie arched her back and gasped, her hands gripping the toilet tank. I reached around and fondled her half-hard cocklet, pinching the head lightly as we fucked. Her skirt was still up around her waist, and with my other hand I grabbed it from the side and used it as a handle to pull her back fully onto my length with each new thrust. She pulled her tube top up and off and threw it into the sink, too. Her long mussy hair fell down her back as she flipped it over her shoulder. I leaned in and buried my face in it, so soft and sweet-smelling, like flowers and honey.

I felt her little cock grow fully hard beneath my hand, and I used my thumb and two fingers to jack it while I pumped her sweating ass. The tiny bathroom filled with the smell of our sweat and musk, of the scent of her ass opening to me, of her juices flowing and my need rising. She grunting sweetly with each new thrust. She slid one hand up to her titties and began to claw at her nipples.

Then she came. Her cocklet swelled and squirted in my hand. She shivered and bucked back against me, moaning. Her gland inside, my cock ramming against it, quivered and pulsed, a fat firm knot of pleasure for us both. I kept stroking her all the way through it, kept pumping her from behind.

In another few moments I was there, too. I released her little dick and took her by the hips, ramming, slamming into her ass. My cock was brutally hard and seemed to go in deeper with each new thrust.

"Ugh – Ugh – Ugh – UGH!!!" Macie grunted as I fucked her. I growled as I came. I went deep and still, my cock pumping jet after jet inside her warm tight ass. I nuzzled into her hair, against her back, and stayed bent over her, connected, for several more minutes.

When I was only barely soft enough, I asked her quietly, "Is that what you wanted?"

She nodded immediately, still out of breath. Still sweating.

I wrapped by arms around her waist and kept her tight against me.

Then I pissed. Hotter, harder spurting than my come, my pent-up urine blasted away at her inside. She stiffened, then shook all over. I felt it leaking back out, over my balls, running down my legs and dripping onto the floor. Then my cock fell free and her ass let loose a torrent of semen and piss onto the floor between us.

Macie spun around and sat on the toilet. She took my dick in her mouth and sucked me, still pissing, drinking all that she could. Her tits got soaked in the process. My jeans were a wet wreck.

Finally I was done and getting hard again. For another minute Macie worked her mouth on me, pumping me with one hand, her other pinching at her nipples. I was lightheaded and getting dizzier by the minute. I rested both hands on top of her head, closed my eyes, and just let myself enjoy the feel of her mouth around my cock.

Then it was over. I wasn't going to come again that soon, and both of us knew it. With one last long plunge to the base of my dick, burying her nose in my pubes, Macie worked me in her throat. Then she pulled off and sat back. A long, thick rope of drool trailed off the head of my cock, connected to the corner of her mouth. She reached up and broke the strand, slurping her fingers clean, smacking her lips and grinning up at me.

Her makeup was wrecked. Her hair was all over the place. Her chest was slick and shiny with my piss and her drool and sweat. She was beautiful.

"I think I love you," I said.

We both froze. What the fuck. What had I just fucking done?

Then she smiled even bigger. Not a wolf's grin. Not a sneer. None of that. It was a big, gorgeous, simply-happy smile.

"I know you do," she told me. Then she leaned back against the toilet tank, rubbing her fingers all over her slippery little boobs. The grin returned. The cat who ate the ass-fucker. "After all, who could resist this much skanky goodness?"

Then without warning she was shitting hard, pushing out jets of come and piss, along with soft little turd bombs that I could hear splashing into the bowl.

She giggled and covered her mouth, watching me carefully. I couldn't help but laugh right along with her. What an adorable, amazing, filthy girl I'd found.

"Macie, we've talked about this."

Allan was sitting up on the couch when we tried to creep back out of the bathroom. I was naked from the waist down, holding my come- and piss-splattered jeans and boxer briefs in one hand, my wet shoes in the other. Macie was just naked. Her skirt, tube top, and panties were balled up between her elbow and ribs while she simultaneously scratched at her pubic hair and an armpit. We froze.

The tavern owner was bent over, strapping on his pretty sandals, finishing with the last little buckle. He wore a matching yellow bra and panty set. A silky party dress lay spread on the cushion beside him. It was a rich velvety dark blue, to match the straps of his sandals and the paint on his toenails. He wore the same shade blue in large pendants that hung from his ears and around his neck.

He scratched at his beard as he sat up, glancing from her to me, then back again. He reached over and picked up the dress, shrugging easily into it and letting it drop down to his waist. Pausing to study my still-interested dick, only partially soft, he looked up at me and winked. Then he twisted his torso, showing me his back.

"Zip me up, fella," he said, "if you don't mind."

I dropped my stuff and did as he asked. By the time the zipping was finished, I was fully hard again.

Fuck. I could feel the color rising in my neck and cheeks. I stepped back and considered dying.

Macie snorted from behind me, clearly enjoying things.

Allan didn't turn back around right away, though. He reached up and took the loose band from the back of his head and slid it off, freeing his shaggy gray ponytail. His hair fell halfway down his back, and he spent a moment teasing it out, running his fingers through the thick soft strands, and generally shaking his head around. When he finally did turn back to face me I was no less hard. Maybe even harder, to be honest. With his beard and completely manly, unavoidably male features – broad strong shoulders, though thin, with enough muscle in his chest and arms to seem athletic for his age – Allan was a handsome, attractive man. The long hair and beard only added to his rugged attractiveness.

I wasn't normally one to ogle other men in real life, but then again, my life had taken a turn in the last couple days. Macie had brought me out in all kinds of ways. I stood there with yet another massive hardon and gawked in fascination at the absurdly attractive cross-dressing sixty year-old in front of me.

Allan chuckled, enjoying the spectacle of my blood-engorged tool at full mast. He stood and headed to one of the lockers, pulling it open and extracting a small makeup case. There was a mirror on the inside of the locker door. He peered at himself and carefully, expertly, began applying eye shadow, eye liner, blush, and lipstick. All tastefully understated and ridiculous, of course. And fuck if my dick still didn't go down!

"I thought you just took care of that, my dear," he muttered over his shoulder at Macie. She rolled her eyes and stepped up beside me. Grabbed my cock and squeezed. My knees almost buckled!

"Fuck!" I gasped. I couldn't help it.

"That's what I thought I was saying," Allan chuckled, shaking his head at the mirror and puckering. "He's new to all this, eh?"

It was Macie's turn to laugh then. "Not if you look at his computer!"

Good grief. That again! Yes, sue me, I'm a pervert. And it was the entire reason Macie had me right where she wanted me – which was horny, helpless, and utterly desperate to keep fucking her.

Allan shrugged and finished with his lipstick. Then he turned and extended his hand. I blushed more than ever as, with my rigid cock wobbling between us, I took up his grip and we shook.

"I'm Allan, by the way," he smiled. His handshake was like his body – manly, hard, and admirable. His face was still handsome, even with the makeup. If anything, he looked even more absurdly male.

"I own this joint," he continued. "Did you meet my daughter out front already?"

I blinked. Betty. "Yes," I stammered. "Yes I did. And I'm Jack. Allbright."

"Well howdy, Mr. Jack." Allan dropped my hand and closed the locker, headed for the hallway door. He stopped before opening it and turned back to eye my cock one more time, smiling. His dress fell to just above his knees, and his calves – thanks to those low heels – were shapely, hard, and stunning. Although hairy.

"My wife runs the back, so you'll see her when you go through the kitchen to upstairs. Macie'll introduce you, I'm sure."

I was confused. The back? Upstairs?

Allan chuckled again and pointed at my wet clothes on the floor. "You wanna wash your stuff, right? Don't wanna spend the rest of the day smelling like spunk and piss, do you?"

It was my turn to chuckle, helpless again at how stupid I'd become since Macie came along. "Yeah, right. You're right. Thanks for loaning me your washing machine."

Allan waved my gratitude away and opened the door. "No problemo, my friend," he winked again. "Just make sure Macie is ready in time to start her shift."

Then he was gone. I turned to Macie and struggled to connect the dots. She was at a locker now, too, pulling out jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of black Chuck Taylors. I watched her pull on her clothes without any underwear to speak of, pulled her shoes on over her long pretty sockless feet. She stood looking in her own locker door mirror, applying her own makeup, brushing at her hair, putting it into a ponytail, and generally getting ready for work.

"Yeah, Jack, I forgot to tell ya. I gotta work. I wait tables here on Sundays."

I was still thick-headed and had to take a moment. Again, not my fault, all the blood was going elsewhere. My dick still pointed at the ceiling. Looking at Macie in her tight skinny-jeans, her tight white t-shirt with her big hard nipples poking out beneath, atop her apple-sized perfect little boobs, I suddenly considered whether or not I should fuck her again right then and there.

Her cocklet was obvious down there, too. She didn't tuck or try to hide her secret at all. It was almost as if she wanted it to be seen. It surprised me a little to realize it, but I have to admit – I found that I damn sure didn't mind. I really liked how she was showing it off!

"But... you work at the computer repair place," I stammered, transfixed by that small bulge in her pants. "And you work here, too?"

Macie snorted again, bending to pick up my clothes (that ass!) and shoving them into my hands, along with her own.

"Dude," she said, looking me in the eyes, smiling that sarcastic crooked smile of hers, "it's not like I'm fucking loaded or something. A bitch has to work, you know?"

She led me to the door, then turned and rolled her eyes. "But no bitch can sit around looking at perverts' computers all day. Fuck that. I need a little Sunday switch-a-roo...." I suddenly realized we were in the narrow hall and I was naked except for my polo shirt. With a hardon. Barefoot. I held the smelly, wet clothes in front of my crotch as she led me back toward the common room and into the wide kitchen doors at the top of the hall.

It was bright, steamy, delicious-smelling, and loud. A woman somewhere near the back was yelling orders in a strong deep voice. Something was sizzling. We went ten feet, straight across the entrance to the kitchen, and through another set of doors, heading straight upstairs. Macie didn't introduce me to Allan's wife. She paused and I passed her, finally managing to stop myself on the second step. She swatted my ass and pointed.

"You've seen a washing machine before, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, throw that shit in there and come back down. Lunch is getting cold and I gotta go on shift in like ten minutes."

I frowned. "But... wait...."

Macie smacked my ass again. Harder. Much, much harder. My cock jumped.

"What the FUCK, Jackie?" She pushed against my shoulders then, starting me back up the steps. "You scared to eat a little nakey? Come on! It'll be great! Hurry up!"

She shooed me further up the steps. "All right?" Her voice was gentle then. Her gray eyes behind her smart, cute glasses were mesmerizing.

I went. "OK... I guess..." I mumbled uncertainly, but not even really convincing myself. I knew I'd go back down.

The washer was in a utility room just off the landing at the top of the steps. I didn't hesitate at all – clothes in, soap in, turn the dial, shut the door, press the button. Done and back down. Dick bouncing ahead of me as my bare feet skipped their way toward my girl.

So there I was in the pub, finally sitting across from Macie, my bare ass sticking to the vinyl seat and my cock still tall and proud. After my second bite of the now-cold Cuban, Macie reached over and forcibly removed my polo, throwing it over the bar and out of my reach. I was now completely nude. Eating a sandwich. Drinking beer. Sitting across from my beautiful, wild, happy new girlfriend.

She chewed and drank and watched me. Her Converse came up and rubbed against my dick, the rubber bottom sticking a little to my skin, dragging against my balls, making me groan. The naked nerds a few tables away were still reading their books, utterly absorbed. The flirty couple was now playing pool, still flirting. The man was stone-hard, his short thick dick grabbed every now and then by his skinny, horny companion. The hippy girls were long gone, and so was their bong. Allan was behind the bar mixing drinks and talking in a low, familiar way with a couple of fully-clothed thirtyish-looking women who sat across the wood smoking cigarettes. The soccer geezers were still staring at soccer, still naked, and now about ten other naked oldtimers sat with them. The naked dudes were still playing the video games.

Nobody paid us any attention.

I ate and I drank and I let her Chuck Taylors torment me. Finally, Macie ordered me another Corona, ran out and grabbed my backpack from the Jeep, and then she got to work. The pub was starting to fill.

For almost eight hours I graded essays in the nude, more or less drunk by the time I finished, watching my girlfriend flirt and finesse and earn all kinds of great tips – somehow while smelling more than a little of urine, semen, and sweat. But when a girl's that cute, that confident, and that cool... who's going to complain?

Not me. Not ever!

Hope you liked it!

Please email the author with comments or questions (or story suggestions!): olivia.octavia.palmer@gmail.com

Copyright 2016 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved. Do not repost or redistribute without prior written permission of the author. One copy may be saved for private use, insofar as that use does not extend to personal or financial gain by use of the author's work without consent.