The Horny Geek Club

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Sally

When Wednesday evening came around, I finished classes and went home to get ready for the appointment with Martin. I tried not to think about the detail of what I was heading out to do and distracted myself with my usual getting ready to go out routine. I took a long shower, shaved my legs, put my music on, sipped a glass of wine as I applied my make-up. I made sure that I looked great, something I could control. I nailed it.

Just before I left my room I admired myself in the mirror in my best little black dress. Since I spent most days in jeans it was nice to have my legs back. I looked like I was going on the hottest date, but I figured that was holding up my end of the bargain. I didn’t usually completely s**t myself before dates though.

It’s just a blowjob, you’ve done this before. New c**k, that’s all. Just attached to a total dickhead.

I got to Martin’s flat right on time at 6:30 as we agreed. He came from a family with money and was one of the few students who could afford a flat of his own in a nice central area. It immediately went through my head I was undercharging. I took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. He answered immediately.

“Sally?” The door lock release sounded “Come on up. Second floor.” He was breathless and sounded in a much higher state of agitation than I was. I hadn’t expected that.

The flat was lovely. Modern and immaculate. Martin had also made a real effort with his appearance and was looking surprisingly good. Good, but make no mistake, a long way from getting me into bed good. His hair was still wet from the shower.

“You look amazing! I mean stunning, beautiful. Thanks…thanks…for…coming.” His voice trembled. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing hard. He was usually so self-assured in the bar, and this was a nervous sober Martin tonight. He was nicer. Not fuckable nicer, though. No way.

He reached his hand out with a glass of wine. “Here.” He was trying to be nice.

“It’s not a date, Martin.” I said it kindly but refused the drink. He looked hurt. I quickly reconsidered, figuring that a little Dutch courage was precisely what I needed. I took the glass and took a sip. Then another larger sip. It was not only helping relax me, but it was the best wine I’d ever tasted. It was possibly the only thing that stopped me bolting for the door.

We started to chat casually, and I wondered how I make the switch from casual chat to casual oral s*x. He was on about Australia again.

Martin gave me the opportunity after an uncomfortable ten minutes when he moved in for a kiss.

I pushed him back in a deliberate slow movement.

“Still not a date. I’m here for one reason, remember, or have you lost your nerve?”

“No, I know, I’ve just never done something like this before.”

“Well, neither have I. But let’s get on with it. Pull down your trousers and pants, lie back on the sofa and I will do something that I’ve done a lot before.”

Martin fumbled with his belt and zip in frantic urgency and pulled his trousers down. He left his shirt covering his stomach, as he was obviously uncomfortable with the belly he had. I got in between his knees and tied back my hair. I looked up at him and I could see a face full of eager anticipation. It creeped me out. He was horny as hell and I only felt utterly repelled.

What the f**k am I doing?

His c**k was also full of eager anticipation. I hadn’t touched it, but it was rising in front of me.

“Right, let’s do this. You just enjoy…” I said and moved over him to slide his thing in one smooth move into my mouth.

I worked it as I had with any boyfriend. It wasn’t fun, but then again, it wasn’t as completely disgusting as I had feared. I bobbed up and down, did things with my tongue, demonstrated my not insignificant skill levels, and found myself thinking about everything except Martin and his p***s. I realized how easily I could remove myself from the reality of what I was doing.

I even slowed down a little (my ten-minute estimation was looking more like two, by the noises from above me, and I didn’t want him to think he was short changed) but the change of pace was having no effect. He was straining to hold back but it was looking like his straining would be futile. His climax gave me a mouthful of a reminder as to exactly what I was doing.

He cried out in pure, unadulterated, extremely vocal pleasure. I slowed the pace and stopped, feeling only a little uncomfortable.

Paid junk is like just boyfriend junk.

It really hadn’t been as awful as I had feared. Not great, either, but all in all, easy money.

I sat back on my heels and looked at him. I felt a bit awkward. I didn’t know it then, but that would become the easy bit as I got used to it. They were all like weakened kittens after the release.

“f*****g wow!” shouted Martin, “f*****g wow!” He really shouted. I almost shushed him.

He seemed entirely unconcerned about the noise. He was also entirely unconcerned that from zip open to ejaculation took less time than I had spent brushing my teeth earlier. His lack of give-a-s**t worked for me.

“Was that good, babe?” I said. Babe? Babe? What the f**k was that? I even sound like a hooker! Still, I felt surprisingly okay about what I had just done. It really wasn’t all that bad. Clean, small, and quick. Perfect, really. Easy 80 quid.

“Oh man, that was the best f*****g blowjob ever!!”

I forced a smile at that. Probably your only f*****g blowjob ever, geek. He may have been nervous beforehand, but he was now completely relaxed. As was I. How strange.

“Thanks, Sally, you are such a good sport.”

Good sport? f**k sake.

“I’m not a good sport, Martin,” I said, getting to my feet and straightening out my dress, “I am f*****g smoking hot and I give amazing head. Don’t forget the PayPal bit, now, will you? Here’s my number.” I’d already written the details on a bit of card for that reason. A simple act that had earlier completely freaked me out at what I was planning.

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

I regretted being a bit harsh. He seemed genuinely happy and very obviously had every intention of paying me. “Listen, I know it’s not a date and we’re done, but I have this really nice bottle of Chablis already opened and it’ll just go to waste. Want another glass?”

I looked at him with as much disgust as I could muster. How on earth did he think that was appropriate? I then looked at the bottle. It was considerably better than the supermarket rubbish in my fridge. It felt somewhat more appropriate.

What? You have some f*****g nerve, you pervy wanker. Although come to think of it that was delicious wine—much better than the supermarket rubbish in my fridge.

“Yeah.” I said. f**k it. I figured there was plenty of time for study the next day when there wasn’t the offer of expensive wine. “So, tell me more about your plans for Sydney…”

* * * *

That was how getting paid for head all started for me. It was meant to be a one off, but it wasn’t too long before the Horny Geek Club was officially founded. Martin kept one important part of our agreement and paid immediately by PayPal. He very quickly broke the other two parts.

First off, no more than two days later, I got a text from him.

Martin: Sal…I know we said one and done but…Wink face emoji.

Fucking emoji meaning blow me please.

So, I sucked Martin’s c**k again that week. He was easy and he bought nice wine. Second time was comfortable. No messing about to start, no awkwardness afterwards. In, suck, swallow, drink Chateau-Neuf-de-Pape. Make £160 in one week.

The second breech really annoyed me. He told his best (possibly only) friend, a guy called Archibald Tyler-Smythe. Posh as f**k. It was naive of me to think he wouldn’t tell someone. I mean after all, I was properly worth telling people about. Little Lord Archie was also final year law and also heading for first class honors with distinction, a lucrative career, and a future in government or the supreme court. He didn’t look like a future leader of the people though: he was small and with quite satellite dish resembling ears, textbook geek.

I was furious with Martin when he told me after his third blowjob (ever) the following week. Livid. So angry, I very nearly put down my glass of Pouille Fume and stormed out. Nearly, but I mean, Pouille Fume, for f**k sake.

“No, no, no, no, Sally, I’m sorry!” Martin was spluttering as I was shouting at him. “I had to tell someone, you are so amazing, but I didn’t tell him your name. I just said there was this classy girl I paid to blow me who was in the law school with us.” Even as he spoke, the words classy girl seemed ever so out of place in that sentence. “I’m really sorry. Please don’t say you won’t come back. Please? Come on, I’m only trying to help. Forgive me?”

“Why the f**k are you telling me though? Help me!? What. The. Actual. f**k?” I was yelling. I was absolutely and justifiably off-my-head furious.

“I don’t know. I maybe thought, oh Sal, I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’m pretty stupid at times for thinking that. It’s a dumb thought.”

“You f*****g thought what, Martin?”

“A business opportunity for you?” Martin instinctively raised his hands to protect his face when he said it. He still got wet from the waste of amazing French wine I sent his direction before I left.

Next day I sent Martin a text.

Sally: Give him my number. But the three of us need to talk.

Archie texted a pathetic hi later that evening. Like the seasoned pro I would soon become I reeled him in and by the next evening he had put £80 in my account. At least wealthy law students were prompt payers.

* * * *

I suppose it was much like any girl’s move into s*x work. It was easy, men provided endless demand, and the money was really, really, really good. It almost immediately occurred to me that this could be the cash lifeline I very badly needed.

Archie wasn’t disgusting and like Martin he was nervous, and it was really easy. I’d checked him out on f*******: beforehand and Martin vouched for him being a massive nerd and from a tremendously wealthy family. Just no time to get a girlfriend, he explained. More like no personality I figured after my eight minutes in his presence.

That was Martin and Archie in my new little club. Both horny, both geeks, both wealthy. The Horny Geek Club. The name wrote itself. Calling it a club also made the reality of what I was doing somehow more palatable for me. Almost cute. Not at all prostitution.

To me it was just a private members club. A private members club, with happy endings for the members’ members. Of course, I didn’t tell the horny geeks the name of the club. What was shielding my self-esteem might have sounded slightly less than sexy for them. They just knew they were in a very select club. My secret. Best that way.

In the taxi on the way home from Archie’s absolutely-unbelievable-for-a-student flat, I calculated that with just a few more customers, I could pretty much pack in working at the bar. These guys were the future. A customer base that would appreciate me more than anyone else. Guys who simply wouldn’t be believed if they said they were with me, and most importantly and best of all, guys who had more to lose than I had. Would they want a scandal before they even got started in what would massively successful and lucrative careers? I didn’t think so.

It was a pretty unconventional plan for a girl getting through a law degree, but it was a plan. It would get me through, keep me in books and food, and give me the time to ace the course. If I was going to get on my knees regularly, I was certainly going to get the distinction in my degree that would guide me into a stellar career as well. I’d made my decision. Yup, I would blow for dough.

It worked like a charm for almost two years.

The Horny Geek club grew slowly but grew enough to keep me fed and clothed. Always by referral, always vouched for by Martin, or someone else in the club, always vetted on the socials and always near the top of their classes. They came from medicine, law, finance, engineering, dentistry. The professions. I figured I was on safe and nicely discrete ground. They were also all ridiculously wealthy.

It was like fight club, expect with less blood and much more semen. The first rule of geek club was not to talk about geek club, and they all were right on message with that. Not to protect me, of course, but out of mortal fear of damaging their own reputations. My financial situation improved a lot, and they were easy customers. Those that were creepy and wanted more from me in a sexually physical sense got binned. Those that were clingy and wanted more from me in an emotional sense got binned quicker.

Martin became a weekly regular, but most were once a month or once a fortnight. That was a full schedule and good money every month. I was on top of my studies, and even if the whole set up meant that no one I liked was ever going to get on top of me, I still felt good. Everything was going swimmingly.

Then, along came Angela.

Not all geeks are boys.