A Tale From the Dork Side

“Are you ready yet?”
“No, hang on.”
“Okay.” I looked into the mirror and adjusted my mask.
Halloween was not one of my favorite holidays, especially since the
candy-distributors began to scowl at us and say that we were too
old to be trick-or-treating. Of course, our classmates had been
telling us that since we were freshmen. The scowling parents were
at least nice enough not to steal our pillowcases and punch me in
the stomach. But Gemma always looked forward to the 31st and spent
a lot of time on her costumes, so going trick-or-treating was
pretty much a given. Part of our Halloween ritual–her favorite–
was the Unveiling of the Costumes, when I would finally meet the
reason I couldn’t see her outside of school for the entire month of
October.

“Alright, I’m ready now,” she said through her bedroom door.
I pushed it open and stepped inside. Gemma was wearing a black
unitard with a string of white digits sewn into a spiral pattern
from her toe to her neck. She beamed happily at me, and I couldn’t
help but chuckle.
“So it’s my turn to go first, right?” I asked.
“No, you went first last year.”
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it’s my turn.” Of course, I
knew it wasn’t, but I enjoyed building her anticipation.
“Yes, you went first last year. It took you an hour to guess
‘innovation,’ remember?” It was true. I tended to have trouble
with the “abstract idea” costumes.
“Oh yeah. Okay, you can go first. I’ll give you a hint if
you need–“
“Spider-Man.”
“Damn!” I tore off the flimsy plastic mask and tossed it
onto her desk. “Toys ‘R’ Us costumes are always so unsubtle.” She
giggled.
“The logo on your apron didn’t help. Now you.” I pondered
the carefully sewn numbers on her costume for a moment.
“Are you the set of natural numbers?”
“Nope.” She did a pirouette, then clasped her hands behind
her back and grinned. “Guess again.”
“Umm,” I turned my head sideways, as if the different
perspective would make everything clear. “Pi?” She gave me a
dirty look. Of course not. Gemma would never choose something
that obvious. “Well…”
“Look more closely,” she suggested. I examined some of the
numbers on her belly: …420513754….
“Where does it start?”
“That would give it away! Keep looking.” I followed the
spiral with my eyes until the string of numbers dissapeared behind
her back. Guessing where they continued on the opposite side, I
traced my gaze upward along them. …190587755…. Soon my gaze
discovered her breasts. I don’t normally spend a whole lot of time
staring at my girlfriend’s tits–not that I don’t love them, I do–
but I suppose a month of Gemma-deprivation had altered my
priorities a bit, and I found myself marveling at their roundness
and how they struggled valiantly against the confinement of two
layers of spandex. “Hey,” she mock-protested, “don’t get
distracted!”
“No, I think I found something…”
“I think you have, but they’re not going to help you identify
my costume.”
“But isn’t that a decimal point?” I extended my finger
toward her left breast.
“I’m sure there’s no decimal point there,” she said as she
swatted at my hand. I proceeded anyway; however, instead of
pointing at anything, I placed my palm on the side of her breast
and rubbed her nipple through the fabric with my thumb. It
stiffened a bit under my touch, and as further confirmation of her
position regarding the issue at hand, she said, “I guess you ought
to double-check. Just to be sure.” Leaning forward, I kissed the
base of her neck. “See it?” I let my eyes focus on her back
momentarily. …33593992…
“Nope, not yet.” My lips moved up until they found hers, and
locked together. I slid my tongue in-between her lips, where it
met its counterpart. They played a game of cat-and-mouse,
advancing and retreating from each other while my lips moved
against hers and my hands moved against her frustratingly covered
breasts.
“Hmmn,” she moaned as she wrapped her arms around me and
stepped backward. Her calves touched the side of her bed, and
without separating our lips, we sat on the edge. I brought my
hands up her arms to her shoulders and slid the straps of her
unitard over them. It took some some effort to work the tight
fabric down to her waist, and she eventually had to pull back from
me in order to free her arms from the spandex restraints. Once
liberated, her arms crossed over her chest and she pulled her
sports bra up and over her head in a flash of 88% nylon and 12%
Lycra, releasing a pair of bouncing breasts into my waiting hands.
We leaned into each other again, and while our tongues
squirmed together, I caressed the soft flesh that rested in my
palms. Her breathing grew heavier, but unfortunately the pollen
count that Fall was unusually high, and so to avoid asphyxiation
she once again had to break our kiss. Out of courtesy more than
anything, I moved my mouth from her lips to her breasts and licked
at her swollen nipples. Actually, I probably would have done that
anyway, even if she had remembered to take a Claritin.
After a few minutes I moved to kneel on the floor, forcing my
lips to reluctantly part with her chest; they did, however, manage
to plant a trail of kisses down her stomach to her belly button. I
was once again face-to-face with a sequence of white digits:
…2817638879…. Not for long, though. Gemma lifted her hips
from the bed, allowing me to wriggle her costume past her waist and
then her feet, onto the carpet at my knees. Pausing only to remove
my shirt, I plunged myself tongue-first between her legs. As I
lapped at her outer lips, her breaths came more frequently and with
greater intensity. Once her clitoris revealed itself, I re-
concentrated my efforts; accordingly, her panting became more
voiced, turning into squeals and whimpers. Suddenly, her body
stiffened and she arched her back, while her lungs apparently tried
but failed to force out a scream. I continued to flutter my tongue
over her most sensitive area, prolonging her pleasure as best I
could. When her orgasm faded, I crawled up beside her to deliver
her a kiss, which she enthusiastically returned.
Meanwhile, her nimble fingers located the front of my pants
and worked fervently to undo them. As she pulled them down, I
rolled onto my back and blindly groped around in her night-stand
until my hand found the foil packet it aimed for. I fumbled with
the wrapper while Gemma removed my socks, one-by-one. Rolling her
eyes, she took the packet from me and tore it open with a swipe of
a hand; then, she unrolled the condom over my erection while I
reclined onto my elbows. She crawled over me and seemed to smirk
slightly before guiding my penis into her with one hand. While she
lowered herself onto me, her eyes lightly shut and her head rolled
back a bit. We both held our breath until, at last, she completely
engulfed me, at which point her eyes snapped open and she gave me
that same smirk as she began to rock her hips. It wasn’t long
before she reached an aggressive pace, causing her hair to flail
around her face and her breasts to bounce excitedly. I brought a
hand up to be pummeled by one of them and to let her erect nipple
brush against my palm; with the other, I adoringly stroked her
thigh. Her pace quickened still, and soon I was blinded by the
sensations almost as much as I was by the layer a fog on the inside
of my glasses. Moments later, my orgasm was triggered by the
concurrent spasming of her inner walls, and I poured myself into
the latex membrane while she shuddered against me.
Once I recovered, I withdrew from her and disposed of the
spent condom, careful to disturb as little as possible her semi-
prone position, half on top of me. Then I wrapped my arm around
her shoulder to pull her closer. She nuzzled her cheek against my
neck. I’m not sure how long we remained like that, but at some
point, Gemma looked up and said to me, “We’re not going to be able
to go trick-or-treating and make it to Constance and Victor’s party
now, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s okay. I hate parties.” She smiled broadly and
gave me a little hug. “I found it, by the way.”
“What?”
“The decimal point…” I turned onto my stomach and
retrieved the pile of fabric from the carpet; I brought it between
us and displayed the part that would be under her right arm.
0.57721566… “You’re the Euler-Mascheroni Constant!”
“Yep, accurate to twelve-hundred digits.” She paused and bit
her lip. “Too unconventional?”
“No way, this is the best costume yet!”
“Really?” Her eyes broadened.
“Really.” I leaned forward to give her a quick kiss.
“I love Halloween.”
“Me too.” I suppose I do.