Accidental Submission

The first time, I was sure I had imagined it. I didn't so much as look to check. The difference between fantasy and reality was perfectly clear-cut. I felt the same way the second. There was a fan on in the room, things were moving around, the sensation on my chest couldn't have been what I thought it was. Impossible. The third time, I allowed myself the briefest of glances down.

I managed to suppress most of my reaction, but I couldn't help widening my eyes for a fraction of a second. No two ways about it- her finger was tracing its way around the edge of the collar of my T-shirt. My RA from down the hall, two years older and apparently more or less unattainable.

About an hour ago, she'd followed up on a promise to come by and look at an interesting anime we'd discussed earlier. We'd watched the first episode, agreed that is was pretty good, and sat down to talk about it for a bit. Being a bit of an otaku, I'd mentioned that I identified with the main character's copious porn collection. This wasn't exactly a point of pride, but it had slipped out in casual conversation. Much to my relief, it only really elicited an eyebrow raise.

A few minutes later, the conversation turned to hard drive space. I took a look to see just how much of mine was empty. To my immense chagrin, she'd asked the question that I was most hoping to avoid: "well, shit- how much of that is porn, anyway?" I couldn't do much besides laugh. Neither of us had had anything to drink, but it was late at night, getting towards the peak of exam season, so there was a certain sort of intoxicating quality to the tiredness. That was probably why I decided to take the "manly and courageous" approach and be honest.

"Yeah, probably a couple of gigabytes of images, if I'm being honest."

She seemed surprised by that, but, to my relief, not totally disgusted.

"What, just a few gigs? Lame."

In my mind, this was already absurd. I was talking about my porn folder with Steffi Goldman, the girl I'd had a bit of a crush on more or less since I first saw her, and who'd always seemed in that mysterious female dimension several miles above my own. In that spirit, without really thinking much, I pressed my luck a little further.

"Hey, some of us save for quality, not quantity. Prime material."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like an idiot, wincing a little as I braced for the inevitable. Instead, she responded with a bemused laugh, sitting back on the couch with an utterly nonchalant slouch.

"Pff. Yeah, right. Probably a parade of totally generic lesbianism and overkill tits."

"Come on now, I'm not that boring."

The next words might as well have been a shotgun blast. But, with a shrug, I set hand to trackpad and reacted when she said, "Prove it."

Grimacing with embarrassment but, for some reason, determined to stick to my guns, I double-clicked the folder entitled "Female Appreciation" and began the "show." In an attempt to mitigate the awkwardness- not really her concern, but I definitely felt it- I kept up a running commentary as I ran through the files. By a few minutes, I was appreciating the Youtube-esque commentator quality of my voice, and feeling oddly comfortable in the bizarre moment.

"...so yeah, that's a penis. And that's a ballgag. That... well, she's cute, that's about all there is to it. That's pretty damn dominant. Oh look, so's that one." I realized that I'd hit a vein of BDSM content, nestled in between plenty of more conventional material. "Yep, she's doing some interesting stuff with his penis. That's a gag again. Neat. Mhmm. Handjob. A little dull, but I liked the visual style."

Right around there, I felt the first contact. A few seconds later, there was no doubt that, for some inexplicable reason, she was playing with my chest. I had no idea how to react. This was decidedly not in the playbook. With no other options presenting themselves, I kept rolling forward, trying not to let my confusion leak into the "guided tour."

About a dozen pictures later, I was hoping, increasingly frantically, that my collection would take a turn in a different direction. In the back of my mind, I berated myself for not organizing. Right about then, I felt my voice catch for a split second, slipping a few syllables and forcing me to take a second to restart. My pulse accelerated a little. More surprisingly, she laughed.

"You were saying?"

I swallowed, still far from capable of rationally dealing with the situation. She seemed to lean in a little closer, an unignorably present warmth next to me, hand casually wandering over the front of my shirt. Breathing a little more heavily, but trying as hard as I could to keep it under control, I kept talking, pace slightly accelerated as I worked to keep speaking without paying heed to the rest of the situation.

At some level, I was fully aware that I enjoyed it. Even so, nervousness carried the day by a huge margin. Her side was in contact with mine. Her hand was on my chest. I was confused.

"Hey, you know, I can stop if you want. I'm tired, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate as all hell."

"No, it's okay, I... I don't mind."

I felt blood surge to my face as soon as I shut my mouth. Any sort of decision-making capacity had been utterly bypassed for that one. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how much I didn't mind. Her arm slipping around my shoulder did nothing at all to help the situation. Part of me wanted to reciprocate, but I was terrified of overstepping some sort of boundary. Nothing about this was remotely predictable. Frantically drumming my fingers on the arm of the couch for a moment, I reached back to the laptop, clearing my throat and attempting to do the one thing that I understood here.

"If you're sure you're okay with this... well, might be fun if you took your shirt off."

I coughed a few times, not entirely clear on what I'd just heard. I looked over to her, taking a deep breath and making eye contact. This made things a little better: she was more confident than me by a long shot, but I could make out a clear note of uncertainty. This was just as unplanned for her as it was for me. Somehow, that was reassuring. Even if she was completely taking the lead, she wasn't a machine. Relaxing enough for a small smile, I nodded, holding the moment before realizing I hadn't moved yet, hurriedly fumbling with the suddenly complex bottom edge of my shirt.

She responded with a brief flash of a grin, resting her chin on my shoulder and reaching down to help me, her hands seeming more stable than mine by several orders of magnitude. Between the two of us, we soon had my torso bare, leaving me to slightly shiver at the realization of just how little stood between my body and her.

"Don't be scared, Jon. I'm having a good time and I think you are too. Just relax. You're in good hands."

The message was a simple one, but the tone of responsibility made it unexpectedly calming. An upperclassman, slightly taller than me, and quite clever, Steffi was easy to trust. While I was still more than a little nervous, letting her take the wheel felt like a safe decision. She seemed to notice the moderate sense of relaxation, gently rubbing my shoulder while venturing down towards the contours of my stomach.

The lower chest was one thing, but the skin of my stomach was much more sensitive. I couldn't help but squirm at the unexpected sensation, leaning towards her for support before I fully realized what was happening. The new closeness was warm, with her quiet laugh for a soundtrack. She seemed pleasantly surprised, slowly moving her palm over my stomach and enjoying my slight wriggling movements.

"Here. Let's try something a bit more comfortable. Looks like you appreciate some contact, let's do something for that. Right here."

She sat up, moving over a little, leaning back, and slightly opening her legs, gesturing for me to sit down. Looking at me with a slightly appraising glance as I stood up, she let a hand trail along my leg, somewhat more confidence in her smile, but still tempered with the same note of concern. The overall impression was almost motherly as she reinforced the invitation: "Sit. You'll like it." Commanding, sure, but gentle. She meant it.

Hesitantly, very much aware of the tiny shifts in position and balance as my body moved, I lowered myself into her lap, my breath deepening and pulse accelerating as her legs met mine and her chest pressed against my back. I felt my jaw shake, shuddering for a few seconds with a mind of its own. This was very different. Despite my feeling distinctly vulnerable, her responses did a lot to calm my nerves. I knew her well enough not to worry about any completely bizarre turns of direction, and her concern for my consent had put me at least somewhat at ease.

"Is this okay?"

Her body cradled mine from behind, a presence that somehow made me feel both childlike and appreciated for attractiveness. More to the point, her fingers were dancing around the heat between my legs. I somehow hadn't realized it, but I was partially hard by now, enough to be visible to anyone with a clue as to what happened in situations like this. Her simple question wasn't really unexpected, but it was still more than enough to make me draw a few deep breaths before answering.

"I..." This wasn't going to come out in one breath. The reality of what was about to happen tripped my words, leaving me to stumble every few syllables as I coaxed a response out of myself: "Yeah. That- I... please..."

I knew I was blushing again. My stomach twisted, certain I had embarrassed myself in a big way by such an inarticulate response. Almost as soon as it began, the sensation stopped. She wrapped both arms around me, soothing my worries with a tight hug and softly instructing me: "Try to do it yourself. This is nice, I'm enjoying myself too. Fuck, it's weird, but we both like it, right?"

Breathing through my nose and nodding, somehow sure that she understood, I undid my belt. My hands weren't shaking too badly, but a slight rattle from the buckle reminded me that I was still tense. I could feel every rise and fall of my chest in exquisite detail as my heart pounded in my ears, keeping a reasonable pace but reaching a seemingly deafening volume. I somehow opened the fly without major incident, leaving nothing but a layer of cotton between her hand and my penis.

I opened my mouth to try to say something. It may well have been something fairly clever. That didn't matter, though- any words I might have had were swept a thousand miles away as she laid her hand on my crotch, softly gripping the whole package and moving up and down. My hips jerked in response, thighs coming together and head collapsing back in one movement.

"Easy. Come on. Stay still for me."

She kept stroking, sticking to a fairly subtle motion until my squirming motions subsided somewhat. My breath was coming in shudders, stopping altogether every few seconds as particularly intense hot points of sensation came up.

"Alright, I'm taking these off. Don't go thrashing around too much, alright?"

I quickly nodded, a small sound in my throat, halfway between a whimper and an affirmative grunt the only vocal response I could muster. I tried to hold my breath as her slender fingers worked inside my briefs, patiently playing along the length of my partial erectness, which almost immediately responded to the touch. This wasn't the first time I'd been touched by a woman, but Steffi had an utterly unique way of handling it, much less pressure and room for error. She had the lead, and I was completely comfortable with that.

"Ahh- too sensitive!" Her finger had brushed across the opening of my urethra, which was, frankly, far more stimulation than I could handle for the time being. "Not yet- please, just be gentle." She withdrew for a second, laying a hand on my cheek.

"Of course- all you had to do was say so. Don't worry, we can have lots of fun with the basics."

Her palm left a trail of subtle heat as it drew across my face, and I closed my eyes to savor it for a moment.

"Why me? Why now? This almost doesn't seem real."

She laughed, just a little, subsiding into a low hum as she simply held me. "There really isn't a reason. Shit just happens sometimes. If you didn't pick up on it, I have a bit of a take-charge streak in these matters. Your 'collection' seemed like a bit of an invite, I was tired, might not have been the brightest idea- but hey, here we are. Might as well enjoy, right?"

I was content with that, making a few more throat sounds as she moved my underwear out of the way entirely, taking me in one hand and, achingly slowly, beginning to move. The first time her finger brushed the sensitive spot just under my glans, I couldn't contain the noise, releasing a pleasured hum and closing my eyes as I quickly filled out the rest of my full length. I wasn't spectacularly endowed, but I didn't feel worried about that. It just didn't seem probable that she would do anything to make me feel bad about it.

Such practical concerns, in the space of a moment, seemed nearly irrelevant. Her finger tracing the back edge of my glans elicited a long, thoroughly unsubtle groan. The pleasure was rapidly going to my head, leaving me in a dazed, thrilled near-stupor as I made it the rest of the way up, twitching on occasion from the stimulation. I mewled with pleasure, any pretense at classical masculinity out the window as I sat in her lap, my whole body warm from the sensation of her breasts against my back and electrified by her hands.

She had told me to try to stay still, so that took up most of my mental energies. The combination of consistent stroking and the occasional curious, exploratory venture into the various contours of my painfully erect penis kept a steady procession of heady, powerful sensations through every last part of my body. I drew breath in near-perfect time with her rhythm, each stroke eliciting a shaky gasp of a breath.

Before I knew it, a few clear beads of precum had made their way out, providing a welcome bit of lubrication. This seemed to amuse her, leaving me to try my best to endure her efforts to smear the slippery fluid over the entire member, producing tingling sensations that nearly forced me to cry out with every tiny movement. I hummed and crackled internally, more flooded with feeling by the second, and practically overwhelmed with a strange, very intimate sort of gratitude.

Functionally enthralled by her touch, I writhed in her lap despite my best efforts not to, savoring every last point of contact with her body. My mind was increasingly blank, not thinking about or perceiving much of anything beyond her, my body, and the glorious interaction between the two. Whatever it was that she wanted, I wanted. Unable to help myself, I desperately reached for her free hand, brimmingly eager to somehow return a little bit of the physical attention she lavished on me.

She took my hand with sound vaguely similar to a purr, almost laughing at the same time.

"Don't go getting too romantic, now- just appreciate what we have."

Even so, she intertwined her fingers with mine, making matters worse by gently cooing into my ear from behind, as if I needed another dimension of sensory input. My body felt ready to burst, my mind was completely devoted to an impatient, reverent sense of "almost there." Almost every breath carried some sort of a muted moan, my fingers unconsciously flexing and unflexing within hers, my body squirming against the warm, soft presence behind me.

"You're getting close, right? Heh- looks like I'm good at this after all!"

The nonchalant happiness in her voice put a smile on my face even through the dense pink fog on my mind, managing to inject an element of friendship even into this situation. I might have even laughed a little, in between hopelessly aroused whines and groans. With what I can only describe as a sort of sense of showmanship, she leaned her head over my shoulder, playfully adding a new element.

"Hmm.What do you think, Jon? Should I make you beg for it like the girls on your laptop?"

Retrospectively, she may well have meant it as a joke. Unfortunately, my capacity for non-sexual thought had been functionally exhausted on our "friend moment" seconds ago, and it simply registered as words from the lovely, wonderful person who was generous enough to make me feel the incredible sensations in which I was essentially bathing. Considering that I was barely able to do anything besides non-verbally express pleasure, the fact that I responded with words bordered on miraculous.

"Mm... whatever you like, of course... just, please, don't deny me for too long. Please. I want to."

A lot of the words were blurred into groans and desperate whines, but I think she got the idea. Gripping my hand, pressing her cheek against mine, and accelerating the tempo slightly, she whispered into my ear, obligingly taking things a little more "seriously" in the moment:

"Close enough. Alright. Fine. Go ahead. What are you waiting for?"

That was all I needed. She had me quivering on the edge, and she had just given me a way to fulfil my desire to please. I concentrated on appreciating every stroke as much as possible, biting my lip and letting every electric flicker of stimulation heat me closer to boiling over, diving deeper and deeper to lose myself in the floods of ecstasy. My eyelids fluttered, stuck somewhere between open and shut, a sharp contrast to the resolute openness of my mouth, panting for breath as she brought me closer to the beautiful, beckoning inevitable. This time, I was truly ready to fall in response to her urges.

"Now."

That one simple whisper was enough. It was more than enough. All the tension, the confusion, the anticipation, the excitement of the moment collapsed into a singularity of pleasure, drawing in all the superfluous elements of my conscious mind and compressing them into one overwhelming burst of distilled pleasure, burning away any hesitation or restraint I might have had left. In that instant, my mind was blank, written over with the pure white of release. A seemingly endless series of pulses wracked my body, serving a similar purpose and propelling my impossibly hot seed out with abandon. I didn't even have time to be embarrassed about the mess I had just made. Instead, I simply collapsed into her lap, heaving deeply satisfied breaths and overjoyed to be in her embrace.

As the thrill of sex slowly faded from my body, I gradually regained a more rational awareness of the situation. In an instant, I realized that I had just enjoyed myself entirely on her efforts.

"Steffi... was that alright? Is there anything else I can do? I mean, you didn't- I didn't do anything for you, did I?"

"Relax. That was fun. Just take it at face value for now, don't sweat it too much. Wouldn't have done that if I didn't enjoy it, now would I?"

She reassuringly patted my shoulder, which seemed to add nicely to the floating glow my mind seemed to be experiencing. To my pleasant surprise, she didn't immediately get up, making small talk and holding me as I returned to a more normal state before eventually standing up, gently stepping out from under me.

"Alright, I think we both need some sleep. And, tough luck, but cleanup's on you. I had a good time, though, thank you for that. You know..."

She fell silent for a second, looking oddly philosophical for a woman in sweatpants and glasses.

"Hmm. Ehh, what the hell. Look, this might sound odd, but I was thinking it before that happened, might as well follow through. We should get coffee or something sometime. I'm not done with you on this season's stuff, you have a couple of wrong opinions in there that we need to iron out."

I laughed, simultaneously relieved and elated that things had ended well. Wearily, I half-muttered a happy reply.