Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds Read Online Free Page A

he mentioned nothing all through breakfast. But it was now or never.
    “That was good. Thank you.” Scott cleared the table.
    “Ain’ know you could cook,” I said.
    “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
    “Can we talk for a minute?”
    “What’s up?”
    “It’s ’bout last night. I saw you.”
    “Saw me? Saw me what?”
    “Never mine, um…”
    “No. Spit it out. Saw me what?”
    “Jackin’ off.”
    “What?”
    “In your bunk las’ night.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “Look, man, its cool. We all do that shit.”
    “I was scratching my balls,” he said, turning red.
    I thought maybe he didn’t realize he was jacking   off in his sleep.
    “You know what?” he suddenly said. “You wish I was jacking off. I see how you look at me, how you stare. And I saw your magazines.”
    “You been goin’ through my shit?” I asked, checking my drawers.
    “Just for the record, you would be the last guy I would fuck even if I were a fag.”
    Scott grabbed his things and stormed out the door. I sat there stunned; I couldn’t believe that he denied it. I searched the graduate building in hopes of running into him to apologize, but he was M.I.A. I couldn’t keep focused because of our fight. I got back to the apartment thinking I shouldn’t have said anything, and I ate some of the leftover Chinese and went to bed. Scott didn’t come in until three that morning. I pretended I was asleep.
    “Darryl, you awake?” he whispered. I felt his hand on my arm. “You asleep?”
    “Wa’sup?”
    “It’s my brother.” Scott started crying.
    “What? What’s wrong?” I sat up in my bunk.
    “They found him at some old abandoned apartment with a needle in his arm. He’s dead. They want me to come down and ID the body.”
    “Oh God, man, I’m so sorry.”
    “What am I going to do? How am I going to tell my mother?”
    “You want me to go with you tomorrow?”
    “Would you?”
    “Of course. We’ll go first thing in th’ mornin’.”
    “I’m sorry…about last night,” Scott cried.
    “Hush. Forget about it. I was an asshole.”
    Scott reminisced throughout the night about him and his kid brother, how they fought over everything from Tonka trucks to girls in high school, but always made up after the dust settled.
    That next morning, Scott was sullen. I practically had to dress him and push him into the elevator. He didn’t talk much on the train to Far Rockaway.
    “I can’t,” he said.
    “What?”
    “All those terrible things I said. I can’t see him.”
    “You ain’ mean none of that stuff. He knew that.”
    “Telling him to stay away from our mother was the last thing I said to him.”
    “Don’t beat yourself up. He knew you loved him.”
    When we arrived to the coroner’s office, Scott froze at the door.
    “You can do this, Scott. I’ll be right there with you.”
    “You’ve been so cool with me throughout all this,” he said.
    “That’s what friends are for.”
     We walked up to the administration desk where an older, well-dressed woman sat shuffling papers and folders.
    “Excuse me. I’m here to speak with Detective George Geletka.”
    “Name?” she asked flippantly.
    “Scott Whelks.”
    “Is he expecting you?”
    “He called me yesterday, yes.”
    “Hold on. I’ll page him.”
    “Thank you.”
    Scott and I waited in the lobby studying those in white lab coats, others with guns and badges hanging from waists. A middle-aged man with dark hair who resembled Edward James Olmos made his way toward us. His badge hung from a chain that dangled around his neck. I knew it had to be him, the bearer of bad news.
    “Mr. Whelks? Hi, I’m Detective Geletka. I believe we spoke on the phone?”
    “Hi,” said Scott.
    “I’m sorry we have to meet like this under these circumstances. We found your brother after we raided a crack house in Dix McBride Apartments. Because he had priors, we were able to