Emma's Summer of Submission Read online

  Emma's Summer of Submission

  By JJ Argus

  Copyright 2020

  Electronic edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and encouraging him to continue to write more like it.

  This story is a work of fiction. All characters are over eighteen

  Chapter One

  My breasts looked too big.

  They didn't usually. Which is just as well since so many idiots of both sexes seem to consider breast size and intelligence to be inversely related. Even worse if you have blonde hair, for fucks sake.

  I try to be considered cool, calm, casual, kind of dispassionate, someone not easy to impress and someone who isn't overly emotional. People see a blonde with big breasts they think 'bimbo' and 'airhead'.

  It was because I was mostly lying down. I mean, my head and shoulders and back were propped up by multiple pillows as I lay there, but mostly, I was horizontal, and my breasts seemed to spread out some as they lay atop my ribs.

  I was laying back reading and watching TV. I wasn't completely naked. I was wearing a black silk pajama top which was just long enough to cover my butt – when it was buttoned. At the moment it was open because I was hot. My father was being an asshole about the air conditioning, not so much trying to save money as trying to save the environment.

  My parents are 'woke'. They're horribly progressive. I think it's the great tragedy of their lives that none of their kids are disabled, gay, trans-gendered or anything else they could express their tolerance towards.

  I put the book I was reading down and picked up the remote, trying to find something passably not-stupid to distract me from my problems. Nope.

  I ran my hand down my body between my legs. My knees were raised and apart, and I let my fingers stroke lightly across my groin. It wasn't that I was feeling particularly sexual but I'd had laser hair treatment – the second one – the other day, and was finding the incredible smoothness of my skin to be very pleasing to the touch.

  My idiot mother had given me a gift certificate for my last birthday to an aesthetics place that did piercings and tattoos. I had no interest in either. I liked my smooth, unblemished skin, even if it was a bit pale. And piercings, well, I didn't see the point – no pun intended.

  I mean, facial piercings are done to get attention. I don't need attention. I suppose a tongue piercing could help with oral sex, but I'm actually pretty skilled there. Nipple piercings, they say, make your nips more sensitive. That's the last thing I need. I already have to cope with them getting hard too easily.

  But then I found out the place also did laser hair removal. The first thing I thought was 'hey, no more shaving!'. Something useful! I mostly meant my legs, but while I was there, I just went all the way up and took care of everything below the neck. Why not? Nobody likes shaving, let alone waxing.

  My mother was pissed. She wanted me to do something rebellious against the system, not 'conform with societal expectations of female beauty'. I told her she and her friends were the system. That didn't make her happy either.

  The one 'rebellious' thing I'd done in the last year was take pole dancing. She was delighted because pole dancing as exercise was 'reclaiming it from sexism and repudiating the traditional image of sexual provocation for the male eye' – whatever the fuck that meant.

  But if she thought pole dancing wasn't sexy she really hadn't watched it. I mean, it didn't have to be. It's actually fantastic exercise for your thighs, your legs, your arms and shoulders and just about everything else. But it definitely can be pretty hot depending on what you wear.

  My parents really wanted me to be a rebel, but in San Francisco, being less than liberal WAS rebellious. Not that I'm conservative. I think both sides are clown city. I'm judgmental, and my lack of respect towards stupid progressive ideals has gotten me into trouble before. Especially at school.

  Thankfully that was over. I'd had a long 'discussion' ie, fight with my parents about which university I would go to. They had wanted me to go somewhere like Berkeley and get my mind stuffed into a straitjacket. I told them I wanted to go to Texas A&M and they freaked.

  But I can cope with stupid conservatives a lot easier than stupid progressives. They're a lot less self-righteous. Besides, it's a good school. Plus it's huge and I can get lost there and be anonymous. They'd given in after I'd upped the pressure by talking about maybe joining the military, which I enthusiastically told them would educate me for free.

  I had then suggested I would go to work for an oil company, maybe. I had thought about threatening to take up stripping and pay for my own college, but I hadn't wanted them tying the pole-dancing lessons in with stripping that directly, not while they continued paying for them.

  Besides, my mom knew I was the furthest thing from an exhibitionist. I'm... pleased with the look and feel of my body. I'm proud of how toned it is, with my shape. But that doesn't mean I want to walk around flashing my tits at everyone.

  The TV clicked over Baywatch Hawaii and Jason Momoa was there in a bathing suit. I turned it up, then crawled to the foot of my bed to see better. He didn't look as incredibly sexy as he did when he played a barbarian with long hair, but he still had a fine body!

  I'm nearsighted. I don't need glasses to read, but the further away I am from something the more blurred it was. There was a padded bench at the foot of my bed, and then the TV was in the corner about six feet beyond that.

  I leaned further forward, putting my hands on the arm of the bench, then I slid further forward, putting my hands down onto the floor as I half slid off my bed and onto the bench – well, the arm of the bench.

  It wasn't by design that the rounded arm wound up between my legs with my right knee on the bench and my left foot on the floor. I was holding my body up with arms straight, thinking lewd thoughts about him, and the pressure between my legs began to become obvious.

  It wasn't that I so much decided to masturbate as that it felt good to kind of gently rub myself against the arm, and so my body did it more or less on its own. And the more it did it the better it felt.

  It was a pretty awkward way to masturbate, but like I said, that really wasn't my intention. But the more I watched him and the more I gently ground my naked pussy against the padded arm of the chair the more my body began to heat up.

  The thought about being 'kidnapped' by a hot, sexy barbarian like the ones he played in Game of Thrones or Conan was really wild and wicked and exciting. And I would enjoy every thrilling moment of the nasty things he'd do to me, too!

  My parents would be dismayed at my 'traditional female sense of sexual submissiveness', but that was part of why I enjoyed my nasty fantasies. My parents felt I should be interested in men for their sensitivity and caring and progressive, inclusive, feminist beliefs. I was interested in men who were tall and broad-shouldered and muscular instead.

  And preferably not the least bit 'woke'!

  As I got more excited I began to grind myself more, my breathing getting more ragged. My breasts were hanging below me, the nipples hard. I lifted one hand up from the floor, roughly kneading one breast, imagining it was barbarian Conan.

  Then the TV went to a commercial. Fuckers.

  I slid off the bench, grumbling, and then stood up and shoved my hair back. It was too long. My mother kept showing me these cute short haircuts like hers that were so fashionable and modern. I kept ignoring them and just letting it grow wild. It wasn't dyed, colored, tinted or shaped at all. It hung more or less straight, and sometimes messy, halfway down my back.

  Anyway, now I wanted to masturbate. And masturbating, for me, has to involve
penetration. And since the guys I fantasize about are big, hairy barbarians, it has to be thick and long.

  I don't have any sex toys because my mother is obsessed with germs and cleanliness and there's nowhere I can think of to hide such an object she might not find it. Not that she would disapprove. Oh, no, that would be too traditional! No, instead she'd be delighted to talk to me about masturbation and tell me how much she approves of my taking control of my sexuality.

  No fucking way!

  It was after Ten so everyone was home. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, then slipped on a fluffy robe before unlocking the door and heading downstairs.

  No one was in the kitchen, though I could hear the TV from the great room, along with my parents' conversation. I opened the fridge, bent over, and pulled open the crisper drawer, then took out an appropriately sized cucumber. There were lots. My mother disdained processed and packaged foods and made everything fresh.

  I slipped the cucumber under my robe then closed the fridge and went back upstairs. I went into the bathroom, filled the sink with hot water and dropped the cucumber into it, letting it warm nicely. Then I dried it, took a bottle of baby oil, and hid both under my robe as I went back to my room.

  I made sure the door was locked, then stripped and shifted the bench over about four feet, away from the TV. I moved a small rug over closer, then got my laptop and connected it to the TV. With that done I knelt down, sitting on my heels.

  I picked up the cucumber, which was nice and warm, and then squirted some baby oil on it. I set it on edge on the bare floor, then maneuvered myself above it, rising up and then sinking slowly down. I gasped as I felt the pressure against my pussy.

  I kind of lightly bounced there, grinding and bouncing as I stared at the TV. It was playing a porn video of a 'barbarian' who had kidnapped a princess. The barbarian didn't so much look like Jason Momoa but he was big and muscular and had the long hair and snarl.

  The princess was blonde. Of course.

  As I let more and more pressure down I felt the tip of the cucumber slowly, slowly, slowly forcing its way into my body. The mouth of my sex ached as it was stretched wide, and my breathing was becoming ragged again as I did nothing to my body but grind and lightly 'bounce'.

  My nipples started to tingle, though, so I brought my hands up under my breasts, cupping and squeezing them, doing it roughly, like a barbarian would. I gasped aloud as the cucumber slid deeper, stretching me wider still!

  My body was heating up quickly. I brought my fingers up and caught my hard nipples between thumbs and forefingers, rolling and rubbing and plucking them. I pinched them as much as I could stand, wanting them to ache as if some nasty man was doing it!

  My body slowly slid down the cucumber. Every inch, every half inch, every quarter inch it pushed into me made me more aroused. I had half of it inside me and already felt a tremendous sense of fullness and pressure, and a delicious aching sensation!

  I reached down, gulping in air, face flushed, and bent over further and further. I raised my hips up and lowered my chest more and more. This was the awkward part, but worth it! I raised my ass high so the dildo was actually tilted up a bit, then moved back so that the other end of the thing was pressing into the fat leg of my bed.

  Now on all fours, I lowered myself to my elbows and pushed myself back. The pressure of the leg forced the cucumber deeper, and I moaned low in my throat as the heat swept up through my mind. I lowered myself further. My breasts felt hot and swollen, and I let them pillow out against the rug. The pressure against them made them ache deliciously!

  I partly supported myself on my left arm and then began to grind my breasts against the fabric of the rub even as I increased and decreased, increased and decreased the pressure against the cucumber. It was deep inside me now! I was panting, aching, moaning, staring up at the TV as my hips moved. Every move kind of tapped the other end of the cucumber against the leg of the bed, sending a shudder through my body!

  As I got more excited I tapped harder, though, and I could feel the cucumber being forced deeper and deeper and achingly deeper! I didn't care about the ache! I was caught up in a wild, feverish sexual high. I rubbed my breasts against the rub and jabbed my pussy back against the post.

  Finally, when I knew the orgasm was about to take me, I thrust my right hand back, found my clit, and began to rub furiously!

  OMG!

  I jerked my left arm in so that my mouth was jammed against the inside of my elbow, and then the orgasm rolled over me like a freight train! I jammed myself back desperately, crying out in muffled pleasure, a frantic flood of liquid heat pouring through me!

  I could hear the thump, thump, thump of the end of the cucumber against the wooden leg of my bed as I slapped myself back against it. Then I felt the thick post itself against my buttocks! That startled me even in the midst of the dark, hazy sexual storm enveloping my mind!

  Had I got that whole fucking thing inside me!? I'd never done that before! God knows it ached deep inside me! Had I damaged myself? Well, I didn't really care. I'd care later. For just now I continued to slap myself back against the leg of the bed, my buttocks and the tip of the cucumber hitting it hard and fast!

  I rubbed my clitoris fast and hard, my fingers immediately getting slippery with the oil, and the orgasm, just flamed wildly! I thought I was losing my fucking mind! I twisted and bucked, grinding my breasts against the rug and jamming myself back against the cucumber and the bed as the orgasm took me.

  And took me.

  And took me.

  I swear it lasted well over thirty or forty seconds! I trembled and shook and jerked and ground and gurgled and moaned into my own arm until it finally faded and I went limp.

  I knelt there in that position, gasping, gulping in air, then slowly rolled onto my side to take the weight off my breasts. I groaned, dazed, gasping, and then rolled onto my back. I shuddered, my knees coming apart, and slid a hand down between my legs, marveling as I felt the end of the cucumber sticking out (barely!) between my pussy lips.

  I wondered if I was mistaken about how long the thing was.

  I groaned, staring down the length of my body between my breasts (which looked too big again). Then I rolled onto my side, eased up off the floor and, holding my finger against the base of the cucumber, stood up.

  I marveled again at it almost all being inside me. Only about half an inch of the more narrow tip showed. The rest was in me!

  I stared at myself in the mirror, imagining where the thing was inside me and mostly thinking “wow!”.

  I figured that was some kind of accomplishment! Especially since it didn't feel like I was torn up or anything. I mean, it ached but didn't hurt. But fuck it was deep inside me! I kind of held it there and bent over, trying to feel where it was. Then I put on the robe and went down the hall and into the bathroom.

  It was so thick that it didn't just slide out when I let go. The lips of my sex squeezed in around the more narrow tip and didn't want to widen. I gripped the tip and tugged and it slowly pulled into view, more and more and more of it as I stared with wide eyes.

  God, it looked so hot! Watching all that long, thick, glistening green... cock sliding out of my body was amazing!

  I got the measuring tape and shook my head as it showed the thing was nine and a half inches long! Ten with the tip, but I hadn't gotten that inside me.

  I ached a little, but not much, and mostly around the mouth of my sex. I had brought a knife with me and reluctantly cut the thing up, then flushed it. I was taking no chances of anyone finding a cucumber that smelled of baby oil!

  I went back to my room and locked it, then stripped again, thinking vaguely about savage, muscular, long-haired barbarians riding me like a helpless sex slave.

  Not that that was likely to happen any time soon! I mean, like I said, I'm fairly careful about my image, and I wasn't about to just throw myself at some guy and let him treat me like a slut.

  Even if I wanted him to.

  My sexual experie
nces with guys had all been kind of boring, to be honest. I didn't mind the kissing and hugging and touching part. But the actual intercourse didn't seem to last long, and I was too afraid of word getting out that I was 'weird' or something to try and direct them into doing things the way I wanted.

  Like doggy style. And rough!

  Maybe in college I'd meet guys who I didn't have to pretend to. If I was anonymous, it really didn't matter, right? Assuming I could bring myself to just have nasty sex with some guys I hardly knew, that is... And I had doubts about that.

  I'd also have a roommate or two, which meant masturbation wasn't going to happen much. I'm not very good at staying quiet when I orgasm. And if I was afraid of my mother finding a dildo I would be doubly afraid of it in a small room I shared with strange girls.

  Oh well, I'd find a way somehow.

  Chapter Two

  I really should cut my hair, I thought, as I walked up the road. It was hot out, and my hair hung down my back like a wool cloak. Two minutes from home and I was starting to sweat. I pulled off my ball cap, tied my hair back in a ponytail, then put the cap back on. It helped, but not that much.

  What the fuck was with the heat? This is San Francisco. It's not supposed to get hot!

  We were having a heatwave, though. And even wearing as little as I could bring myself to get away with the heat still beat at me from above and below. I was wearing short shorts and a gray tank top. I was beginning to regret the latter. It was more form-fitting than I had remembered. I only wore it under shirts most of the time, but like I said, it was hot today. I didn't want anything tight.

  I was glumly concluding I should have worn something like a sundress, but it wasn't a long walk anyway. I sighed in relief as I climbed the stairs onto the porch of Kenzie's place and gave a rat-a-tat-tat knock.

  Her father answered it, surprising me.

  “Hey, Mr. Miller,” I said.

  “Emma,” he said, backing up as I walked past.

  Not before his eyes flicked down to my tits, though. That was a bit weird but every guy did it so oh well. His eyes were probably on my ass while I climbed the stairs too.