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' i.e., 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 experiences 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.