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  #11  
Old 18-Oct-16, 08:45
Sicod79 Sicod79 is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

Loved the story. Hope you get to typing soon! No rush, I just am hoping for it!
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  #12  
Old 27-Jan-20, 12:26
baller2242 baller2242 is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

I still check in on this story to see if that part two has come yet. I hope you get the motivation to write it one day, many of us enjoy your style.
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  #13  
Old 27-Jan-20, 20:02
EricRRobert EricRRobert is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

Quote:
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I still check in on this story to see if that part two has come yet. I hope you get the motivation to write it one day, many of us enjoy your style.
You know, I've had a whole bunch of PMs asking for this one. And I woke up badly hung over this morning and thought: if hotpocketshogun can spend three weeks animating two minutes of Mei sucking a frozen Zarya up her asshole for an incredibly specific audience of two hundred perverts... then I can write this fucking second chapter for my fellow authors.

And now four hours later I have! I'm just gonna proofread the thing and it'll be up in ten minutes or so.

Added after 24 minutes:

-------------------

I spent three months looking at Emmy’s phone number every night before I went to bed. I composed and discarded a hundred texts to her. But what was there to say? “Hi, it’s the guy who wouldn’t stop staring down your shirt two years ago and probably skeeved you out. Anyway, remember how my friend and I tried to force my way into your house and pin you to the floor and you kicked both our asses? Ha ha, good times. Wanna hang out? This is Kyle, by the way.”

I tried to just forget about her, but the edges of that Post-It note were fraying from how many times I’d turned it over in my hand. I sometimes actually hoped Tweaker would give us some more shit, but when we crossed paths at the card shop he was perfectly polite. And given the scabs on his face, the reason for that didn’t have anything to do with sobriety.

I probably never would have seen Emmy again if it hadn’t been for the HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme.

The HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme was a both a racquetball racquet and a stupid inside joke between Cody and me. I was just a smidge better than him at the game, and one week I beat him four straight matches. So naturally he went out and bought himself a $400 racquet. It had one Amazon review – which was from Cody himself – because no sane person would ever spend $400 on a racquet. It played maybe 2% better than my $30 racquet if that. But at least he enjoyed holding it over his head and shouting “Now you shall face the might of the HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme!” before every other serve.

It was mid-February, and Cody was throwing a temper tantrum.

“He can’t just steal my fucking racquet! I did NOT make a bet on that game!! Did I make a fucking bet, Kyle?”

“I don’t know, dude, it was weirdly ambiguous,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on the road. “You didn’t exactly not make a bet. Could you quit shouting in my –“

“I’m gonna call the cops, that’s what I’m gonna do. He’s got stolen property!”

“Code, you know they’re just gonna say it’s a civil dispute and we should talk to a lawy –“

“Well then let’s just go take it from him! There’s two of us and one of him!”

I snapped back at him without turning my head: “Yeah, how’d that work out for us against a fucking high school girl??!”

He went silent. There’d been an implied pact never to talk about that night. We’d been taped together in the freezing cold. Completely conquered by one small, incomparably sexy girl. It was the most emasculating thing imaginable.

After what seemed like forever, he spoke.

“You didn’t just –“

“Dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t –“

“No, you know what? Fuck you, Kyle. Fuck you! Let me the fuck out of this fucking –“

“Dude, I’m sorry. You know what? I’ll get your racquet back.”

He calmed a bit. “You’ll get my racquet back?”

“I’ll get your racquet back.”

“You’ll get the HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme back?”

“Cody, on my honor and the honor of all your dead childhood pets, I’ll get the motherfucking HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme back.”

…I had *zero* idea how I was going to get the motherfucking HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme back.


And then, six hours and five beers later – which was a lot for me back then – I did it. I drunk-texted Emmy Deidrich. I still have the text saved all this time later. The most important, and also the worst, text I ever sent.

“Hi, Emmy! This is Kyle! You gave me invitation to call you if Travis gave us trouple! Cody and I are dealing with a Travis-like situation. It isn’t Travis problem *per se* but it’s like that! Maybe you could be our hero again? This is Kyle by the way.”

When I woke up and saw that text the next morning, I wanted to cry and also to punch myself to death. There was no way she was ever going to respond to that at all, except maybe to tell me off. But as I was miserably eating cereal and drinking Gatorade my phone chimed:

“It sounds like somebody had quite a night Have you slept it off?”

If I had to relive three seconds of my life for all eternity, it would be those three.

I gave her the lowdown. Cody had not-exactly made a bet against an obnoxious jerk who looked like a seventies porn star. The guy had maybe-kinda stolen his four hundred dollar racquet. I needed the racquet to save the friendship. She had shown us she had a way of being very persuasive.

The more I typed, the more idiotic I felt. Here I was, texting a dirt poor "single aunt," asking her to be, like, my mob muscle… and all to get my friend’s expensive novelty racquet. An item that no one should ever even own in the first place. But weirdly, she was being friendly about it – almost enthusiastic. Her personality really shone through over text. She was just the coolest girl and I kept having to restrain myself from kissing my phone. She told me she’d be glad to help, but that she’d need a babysitter. And that if we were going to confront him at the gym she’d need gym clothes or they probably wouldn’t even let her in.

I was honestly kind of astonished. I thanked her profusely and asked what I could do to pay her back, and I still remember her response: “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

I jumped on the computer and overnighted some gym clothes to her house, and spent three hours trying to convince someone to go babysitting in the worst part of town, and then barely slept for two days, and that’s when I finally got to see Emmy again.

* * *

When I saw her, my mouth literally dropped open. I knew I’d been buying gym clothes that were on the sexy side. I couldn’t help myself. But on Emmy’s body they were practically pornographic.

The charcoal sports bra with lavender trim strained to hold back her D-cup breasts. Her tight, bare stomach had that perfect line right down the center. And just below her navel, the spandex lavender shorts hugged her crotch and perfectly round firm muscular glutes so tight you could see every curve. Her skin was utterly flawless. Even looking at her bare neck and shoulders would have frozen me in place, and she was showing a lot more than that. The only thing wrong with the outfit was the ratty, almost-falling-apart sneakers that stuck out offensively against the brand new workout gear.

“…Hi,” I said stupidly.

Emmy kind of giggled. “It’s cool, I made the same exact face when I looked in the mirror,” she said sympathetically. “I look really good, don’t I?”

“You look… incredible,” I nodded, wide-eyed. Kyle brain no work good.

“Let’s go get Cody’s stupid racquet back,” she laughed.


It didn’t take us long to find the guy. He was sitting on a bench with a towel around his shoulders, twirling – yes, there it was – the HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme. This guy was a real ass-clown. He had a big poofy head of sandy blonde hair, a thick blonde moustache, and he wore these red seventies-style short shorts over his pale hairy legs, with a matching headband. Like I said, it was this stupid stereotypical porn star look.

He was also in his late twenties, about six feet tall and probably almost two hundred pounds, and could eat me for breakfast.

I was going to talk strategy with Emmy, but she just strode right up to him. “Hi, I’m Emmy,” she introduced herself.

“Yeah, you are!” said Pornstar. I rolled my eyes.

“Let me get to the point. You took an expensive racquet off my friend. I want it back.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “It’s all yours if you suck my dick.”

“How about I break your face instead?” she snapped back. Fuck, she was sexy when she was mad.

Pornstar stood up. He didn’t really tower over her – Emmy’s about 5’10” – but he was definitely trying to intimidate her.

“See, now you’re hurting my feelings,” he said menacingly.

“Look,” said Emmy, rolling her eyes, “How about I play you for it?”

He looked her up and down, blatantly checking her out. It was gross. I felt a surge of – well, ridiculously, a surge of jealousy.

“You some kind of ringer?” he asked. “Some midwestern women’s state champion?”

“I’ve never played. I don’t have time for this kind of thing.”

Pornstar guffawed. “Damn, girl. Okay, so if you win, you get the racquet, and when I win, I get that blowjob?”

I could see Emmy’s hands curl into fists at her side. “Look, I’ll put up a hundred bucks against it,” I interjected hastily. I didn’t want Emmy getting arrested for assault.

“Fuck that, I want her,” he said crudely.

Emmy sighed. “All right, if you can beat me, you get sixty seconds to take naked pictures of me in the locker room.”

“Done!” he exclaimed, standing up and walking into the court.

I reached for her arm to get her attention, but stopped myself. It seemed wrong to touch her - she was like a goddess. I whispered: “Have you really never played racquetball before??”

“I haven’t,” she answered. “But I’ll kick his ass. Guys don’t do well against me at much of anything. Except I don’t think I can play in these shoes. Also, what are the rules?”

Her confidence amazed me. I was still skeptical, but oddly I was only skeptical. With anyone else I would have told them there was no way we were going to do something this stupid and insisted we leave. With her I tried to run down the rules of racquetball in two minutes. She nodded along.

She handed me her ratty sneakers – I couldn’t help but stare at her generous cleavage as she bent down to untie them – and a minute later I was sitting up on the second floor, watching the game through the net above and behind the back wall.

Pornstar protested that you can’t play racquetball barefoot, but Emmy just said “That’s how I’m going to play,” and he shut up about it.

She threw the ball up like an overhand tennis serve and I cringed. Other than that it was a valid serve, landing neatly past the line, but Pornstar made no attempt to return it. “My point?” she asked.

“No, that’s a fault. You gotta bounce the ball before you serve it, girly. Fuck, you really have never played this, have you?”

“Not once. That’s gonna make this real bad for you.”

She retrieved the ball, bounced it ball against the floor, and slapped it against the wall. Honestly it wasn’t a bad serve at all.

It also wasn’t a great serve. He easily smacked it into the opposite corner where she had no chance of returning it. “And now it's my serve,” he said confidently.

For the next fifteen minutes I watched with gritted teeth as he proceeded to take her apart. She was graceful and athletic – she didn’t make stupid lunges, and every one of her serves landed legal and impressively low for a beginner. But she just didn’t know where to put the ball or where to stand. She did ace one serve, win one extended rally, and returned one of his shots so low to the wall that he couldn’t pick it up. But after fifteen minutes the score was Pornstar 15, Emmy 2. I felt my stomach sink. This had been such a stupid idea.

“And that’s game! I’ll see those cute tits in the locker room,” he exclaimed triumphantly.

“It’s game. It’s not match, though,” said Emmy. “I’m told this is a best of three situation.”

“Just delaying the inevitable, girly,” he smirked. “Your serve.”

She served, the rally began, and I could tell she was improving amazingly quickly. They traded the ball back and forth eight times before Pornstar finally hit one she couldn’t return. “Ha!” he cried out triumphantly as he took back service.

He tried his high left corner serve, the one that Cody was so rarely able to answer, but Emmy had seen it about five times now and she smoothly glid to the right spot and hit it back to the wall with a perfect backhand. I couldn’t pull off a backhand like that until I’d been playing for a month.

Again, they traded the ball back and forth, back and forth. I noticed that Pornstar had to lunge for a lot of her shots, while she was just almost instinctively in the right place to return his. Finally, he knocked one low and Emmy let it go by.

“One-zero!” he cried out triumphantly. But he was breathing hard. He was breathing awfully hard for the first point of the second game.

As I watched, the rallies just kept getting longer and longer. Cody and I almost never rallied this long before someone either hit a killer shot or made a stupid mistake. Emmy was just so graceful. She seemed to dance across the court, her ponytail flapping behind her. Her shots weren’t deadly but her instincts were amazing.

The second game seemed to go on forever. After what must have been forty minutes, the score was Pornstar 14, Emmy 13. And he was not looking good.

“Okay,” he gasped. “One more point, and off to the locker room.” The cockiness was gone. He was drenched in sweat, slowing down visibly – it seemed like he was almost having trouble staying on his feet. Emmy’s shoulders and chest were glistening a bit, but other than that she seemed as fresh as the minute we walked in the gym.

“Serve it,” she said confidently. He served and she slammed the ball back directly into the corner, where it rolled back with no chance of return. “My serve!” she chirped. Pornstar’s face fell.

Emmy served, and Pornstar managed to return it, and they began another one of their extended rallies. I was pretty sure Emmy was doing it on purpose now – she’d learned how to hit those perfect corner shots in just under a single hour, but she wasn’t attempting any of them. Instead, she was intentionally drawing out the point, hitting the ball just within his reach, but only just, so he’d have to run back and forth, lunging to return it. Pornstar looked like he was going to have a heart attack – sweat was just dripping off him. And then as they crossed paths on the court, he slammed his shoe down on Emmy’s bare foot.

“OUCH!!” she screamed in pain. I was on my feet, shouting “THAT WAS INTENTIONAL!” He turned up to me and flipped me off.

I expected Emmy to lose her temper – I think he probably did, too – but instead she limped a couple times, shook out her foot, and said “Okay. Good rally. Your serve.”

He nodded a sort of "that's right" way, but looked miserable as he drug himself into the service box. He hit the ball too hard and faulted. Emmy giggled. “Forget how to serve?” she teased.

“Go fuck yourself,” he gasped bitterly. “Match point.”

He served again. She returned it. And once again, she was drawing out the rally. He was just one good shot away from stripping her naked in the locker room, and yet she wasn’t even trying to take the serve back – she was playfully tormenting him, pushing him way past his aerobic limits. And then, as their paths crossed again, he jumped in a way where I was sure he was going to try to repeat that foot stomp – and before he could, she moved first and spiked her bare heel down on the top of his tennis shoe on the other foot.

The crunch sounded awful even from up in my seat. “OH FUCK, YOU BROKE MY FOOT!” he wailed as he went down to one knee, clutching his foot.

“Oops. My bad,” Emmy said sarcastically.

Red-faced, humiliated, exhausted, he threw a punch from a kneeling position, apparently trying to hit her right in the crotch. And in one smooth motion, she caught his wrist, swung her right leg over his arm and shoulder, and caught him in a standing headscissors with his extended fist held up between her breasts and her legs pinching his neck and armpit. I could see the hard muscles bulge in her legs as she tightened them around him.

“I’ve had it with you,” she said sternly. “You stole my friend’s racquet. You ogled me and treated me like a piece of meat. You tried to break my foot. When you failed, you tried again. And you suck at racquetball.”

Pornstar was exhausted and broken. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Please…”

“No, fuck you,” she said, not angrily but just matter-of-fact. “You’re worse than some of my brother’s meth buddies. You’ve obviously had this coming a long time.” And her thighs tightened even more, causing the bigger man’s eyes to practically bulge out of his red face.

“Pleaaa… you’re breaaa…” he croaked.

A look of concentration came over her beautiful face as her legs exploded into two steel cords of hard muscle… and then seconds later she dropped his limp, broken body from between her tight lavender shorts onto the racquetball court in a pool of his own sweat.

She bent down, picked up the HEAD Graphene 360 Extreme, and looked up at me. “I think we’d better get out of here!” she called up.

“Yep!” I agreed, and leapt up from the bench.

Last edited by EricRRobert; 27-Jan-20 at 20:25.
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  #14  
Old 27-Jan-20, 21:06
baller2242 baller2242 is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

After the long awaited sequel we have Emmy at it again! That level of self confidence is inspiring.
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  #15  
Old 27-Jan-20, 21:43
EricRRobert EricRRobert is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

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Originally Posted by baller2242 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
After the long awaited sequel we have Emmy at it again! That level of self confidence is inspiring.
Thank you, I hope it didn't disappoint! Chapter 3 is set to feature more alcohol and fewer racquets with dumb names
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  #16  
Old 28-Jan-20, 09:10
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

There were a few things i really liked about this story, mate. First off, when they were in trouble with a big, mean bully the most logical course of action for Kyle is to call the stunning girl who took them both down months before. Next, Emmy is actually keen to help them, even at the risk of violence from a big gym thug. Smoothly avoiding violence, she grits her teeth and ignores his objectification of her, challenging him to his own game. Her confidence is intoxicating. Racquetball has never been a sexy sport for me, but I was fully invested as Emmy improved little by little, finally having him running from one side of the court to the other until he is nearly ready to pass out. Then, even though they were playing his own sport, he needs to cheat to beat her. Even at that he fails miserably, passing out between her thighs. Kyle is absolutely besotted with this girl, and I can understand that completely.

Thank you so much for writing this for us, mate. I for one really appreciate you taking the time to revisit a storyline from so long ago. You dusted off those old characters, hauled back with the bat Cody had left behind at her house last time and smacked it right out of the stadium. I really loved it. Thank you again.
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Old 28-Jan-20, 22:14
EricRRobert EricRRobert is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

Quote:
Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
There were a few things i really liked about this story, mate. First off, when they were in trouble with a big, mean bully the most logical course of action for Kyle is to call the stunning girl who took them both down months before. Next, Emmy is actually keen to help them, even at the risk of violence from a big gym thug. Smoothly avoiding violence, she grits her teeth and ignores his objectification of her, challenging him to his own game. Her confidence is intoxicating. Racquetball has never been a sexy sport for me, but I was fully invested as Emmy improved little by little, finally having him running from one side of the court to the other until he is nearly ready to pass out. Then, even though they were playing his own sport, he needs to cheat to beat her. Even at that he fails miserably, passing out between her thighs. Kyle is absolutely besotted with this girl, and I can understand that completely.

Thank you so much for writing this for us, mate. I for one really appreciate you taking the time to revisit a storyline from so long ago. You dusted off those old characters, hauled back with the bat Cody had left behind at her house last time and smacked it right out of the stadium. I really loved it. Thank you again.
Thanks, man, I really, really appreciate the feedback.

On this site, for every thousand people who read a story, ten hit the "thank" button and maybe one of them says anything.

Honestly before this post I was sort of freaking out over the anemic thank count on chapter 2 and wondering: did this land with anyone? Did everyone just think it sucked?
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Old 31-Jan-20, 04:29
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

The first story was wonderful. One of my favorites. Taking on two of them and easily beating them both, carrying them, totally dominating them with ease. It has been in my head since I read it back when. This one was almost as good. I am so glad you added it and really look forward to the next one. Emmy is great!
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Old 09-Feb-20, 23:25
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

Hey EricRRobert,

Just wanted to say, Emmy Keeps Us Quiet was one of those stories I kept going back to for years after first reading it (can't believe it's been almost 4 years!). One time I even forgot what it was called and spent a good amount of time scouring the site for it. You have a naturally flowing, funny, immediate writing style that is extremely rare (boyandy springs to mind, and believe me that's a HUGE compliment!). Emmy is an amazing dominatrix, not the cliché sadistic type, just matter-of-fact, by the way I can kick your ass and then some. Your dialogues are often hilarious. Your characters are real people with real feelings and authentic reactions to being dominated by a woman. So many writers focus solely on the physical side of domination, to me the real erotic effect lies in the emotional side.

The final scene in the part 1 where the protagonist breaks into tears and she comforts him saying now that you've learned your lesson I'm not your enemy is just one of the best scenes ever. It's so erotic for me for the girl to be a gracious winner, to comfort the broken and dominated male. It just adds so much to the effect of domination, and I'm so happy you chose to end it like that.

You have a unique talent for writing and I can only wish you see fit to create more amazing moments for us!

PS part 2 was amazing too and I hope to see some Emmy romance!

Last edited by warthog; 09-Feb-20 at 23:38.
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Old 10-Feb-20, 08:50
EricRRobert EricRRobert is offline
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Default Re: Emmy Keeps us Quiet

Chapter 3
Emmy Overdoes It

“Yes!!” Emmy shouted in triumph as I started the car. “Oh, holy shit that was awesome!!” She’d seemed so cool and confident as she was taking Cody’s bully to pieces, but one quick dash through the parking lot later, she was acting like a little girl on Christmas morning.

“You were incredible,” I laughed.

“Did you see the look on that guy’s face??” She was laughing along with me. “It said he could barely stand up, and he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t even believe what I was – how he had gotten himself into –“

“You fucked him up, Emmy. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. You’re incredible.”

“Pleeeeaaa!” she cried sarcastically, mocking his last words. “You’re gonna breaaa…”

Then she trailed off abruptly, and then there was this intense, electric moment between us. We were staring each other right in the eyes, and – I could hardly believe it, but I was almost sure she was leaning in. Like she was about to kiss me. Her big beautiful eyes were dilated; her lips were starting to part.

I could barely catch my breath. I started leaning into her as slowly and subtly as I could – definitely not trying to discourage the kiss, but not wanting to seem aggressive or presumptuous. Oh my God, this is happening, I was thinking. Emmy Fucking Deidrich is kissing me. The girl so impossibly beautiful that I had spent a year staring at her was about to kiss me. She was wearing a skimpy workout outfit ripped straight from my unlikeliest fantasy, and she was about to kiss me.

But then she didn’t. In an instant, her mood shifted completely. She slumped back in her seat and blew a stray strand of hair up out of her eyes. “Well,” she said in this weirdly sad tone, “I guess it’s time to get back to the niece.”

No!!

“I was really surprised you agreed to do this for us,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going, desperately trying to get the moment back. “I mean… we’re two idiots who tried to pick a fight with you in the middle of the night, and helping us get an expensive racquet back is such a silly favor for me to ask for, and – I’m so grateful, and you’re so awesome, and it was so amazing to see you take that guy apart, but I guess I just don’t… understand… why?”

Emmy took a deep breath. She looked at me and opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. She looked forward again and took another deep breath, then let it out in a sigh.

“Kyle,” she said, oddly deflated, “there’s all this stuff I want to talk about with you, but I honestly don’t think I can. I just can’t get the words out… not unless I got really drunk first or something, I don’t know. I’m sorry, dude. I want to. I’m just – I’m sorry I’m so weird.”

There was a really awkward pause.

“I know where we can get vodka,” I offered.

“Fuck yes!” she exclaimed abruptly. “Drive.” And I did.


The dorm wasn’t far. I pulled into the parking lot less than ten minutes later. At a stop light, I’d texted the girl I’d got to babysit and offered her a silly amount of money if she could stay a few extra hours. I’d been speeding pretty hard, feeling like if I took too long to get to the dorm, this goddess next to me would disintegrate into smoke and blow away. And yet we were here, and she was still in the car and still quite solid.

“So this is where I live,” I said.

“Cool,” she replied. “Hand me my shoes and my hoodie?”

“Oh – fuck!!” I flashed back to Emmy standing over Pornstar’s limp and drooling body, saying “I think we’d better get out of here,” and suddenly I could see very clearly, in my mind’s eye, getting up in a panic while her hoodie and ratty sneakers were still sitting on the bench in the viewing area above the court.

“Seriously, dude?” She laughed, but also gave me a sort of I’m-disappointed-in-you look that crushed me far more than it was intended to.

“I’ll buy you new shoes,” I said quickly. “Do you – do you want me to give you a piggyback to the dorm?” It was the middle of February. It had been a dry winter, so there wasn’t snow on the asphalt, but it was definitely freezing. Nothing I’d want to walk on.

“Fuck your piggyback!” she scoffed. “Why don’t I give you a piggyback to the dorm?”

“Um,” I chuckled. “I mean, I’m not the one with the, you know, with the bare… with the bare feet.” She’d caught me off guard. The thought of wrapping my arms and legs around her was instantly arousing to me, but of course there was no *reason* to jump on her back, to lace my fingers on her smooth bare chest just above that spandex top that barely concealed those perfect, firm breasts, to wrap my legs around her toned midsection – I didn’t have an excuse to say yes to it and my mind was racing to find one.

“Am I going to need to wrestle you down and steal your shoes before you say yes?” she teased.

That was all the excuse I needed. Ten seconds later, we were out of the car and I was on her back. The sprawling dorm lot was stupidly full, as it always was – it was probably a three minute walk to the front door. Emmy walked easily across the parking lot: the cold ground, the chill in the air, my weight on her back, none of it seemed to be affecting her at all.

It was weird – for about twenty seconds, I was in total heaven, wrapping my whole body around this impossibly strong, beautiful creature. And then, at that twenty-first second, reality abruptly sunk in. I was a grown young man in a jacket and shoes riding a half-naked barefoot girl to my dorm. We weren’t the only people in the parking lot. And people were watching.

“Um, Emmy?” I asked quietly, my mouth over her shoulder near her ear. “Maybe you should put me down, this is actually kind of embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it was really stupid of you to get on my back,” she quipped back. “I think you just wanted to feel me up.”

I laughed awkwardly – of course that was exactly right. “Okay, but seriously, let me – let me down… please?” I replied. Her arms were hooked under my knees, so if I let go of her upper chest myself, I’d fall backwards straight onto my head.

“Nah, I’m kinda enjoying this,” she chuckled back.

My face flushed red as I saw two girls about a hundred feet away pointing at us. “Emmy, come on,” I begged.

“Well, we didn’t come up with a safe word,” she said.

“What?”

“We didn’t come up with a safe word. So your safe word is ‘I’m a dainty little diaper boy.’ You say that, and I’ll let you down.” She was giggling, but she also seemed weirdly serious. She wasn’t slowing down her stride at all.

“I’m not saying that!” I protested.

“Good!” she answered.

She kept walking, and my face kept getting redder. I bounced slightly with every step she took, my crotch rubbing up and down her bare back. Her body was so firm, her skin so soft, her hair smelled so good, and the embarrassment only seemed to add to my arousal – and in less than a minute, my dick was rock hard and jabbing into her back with every step. Which only made me even more embarrassed; the humiliation was like a fucking feedback loop. I heard her giggle in front of me. Of course she could feel it.

“Emmy,” I whined. “I’m… could you –“ I didn’t want to explain the obvious – “could you put me down?”

“Well, say the safe word we agreed on!” she laughed.

I was not going to tell the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen that I was a dainty little diaper boy. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. I can’t even describe the feeling. Have you ever felt so fucking embarrassed you wanted to die and also like you were about to cum in your pants? No? Just me?

Fortunately, I didn’t die, and I didn’t cum, and when we finally reached the front door, she set me down. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I pulled my jacket awkwardly down over my erection. “Let’s get to my room,” I suggested.


I unlocked the door to my room and told Emmy I’d be right back with vodka. She went in and closed the door behind her and I immediately sprinted to the elevator, took it two floors up, sprinted down another hall, and pounded on Fat Gary’s door like my life depended on it. In retrospect, that wasn’t the best negotiation strategy; he charged me $60 for a fifth of McCormick. Fucker.

When I got back to my room, I was terrified Emmy wouldn’t be there – that she’d have suddenly figured out that I’m a fucking dork. Well, she was there, sitting on my bed. And there were tears running down her beautiful face.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?!” I asked as soon as I saw her, setting the bottle down on my desk and rushing over to her.

“There aren’t any sheets on that bed,” she said. Even though she was crying, her voice was clear. She was right. My bed was made up; the bed on the opposite side of the room was just a bare mattress.

“Yeah, I have the room to myself,” I said.

“Cody used to sleep there, didn’t he,” she asked sadly, like she already knew the answer.

And she was right. She was completely right. “We just needed a little space,” I protested. “His parents are loaded, he could afford an apartment.”

“You needed a little space after I taped you together in my garage,” she said flatly.

I didn’t know what to say. Of course she was right.

“Emmy –“

“Maybe you could go buy those shoes now?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” I said. With any other girl I’m sure I would have tried to comfort her, but Emmy was just so confident about what she needed. She needed space. It was my job to give it to her.


Dillard’s was a good fifteen minutes away. Finding the perfect shoes to match her gym clothes took a little while, too. Not that I ever had any doubt what exact shade those clothes were – the colors were burned into my brain, and still are to this day. Even so, it was almost an hour before I was back at the dorm and back in my room.

Emmy wasn’t crying anymore. She... also wasn’t wearing clothes anymore. She was lying on my bed naked as the day she was born, with her head upside-down off the side of the mattress. The door swung shut behind me as I dropped the bag with the shoes on the floor. Holy shit.

The first thing I noticed was that her body was glorious. I guess I’d known that for years, but I’d never seen her perfect stiff pink nipples or that little groomed landing strip of hair leading toward that immaculate pussy. I stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her for too long. She let me.

The second thing I noticed was that a third of the McCormick was gone.

“Hi!” she chirped.

“Did you drink all that while I was gone??”

“I’ve only ever cum four times,” she declared bluntly, completely out of nowhere. “Just four orgasms. My whole life. One, two, three… four.” She counted the numbers on her fingers as she held her hand in front of her face.

“Are you okay??”

“Ask me about them!” she snarled at me. She suddenly rolled over to her elbows and knees on my bed. My eyes met her beautiful face and I tried to keep them from drifting down to her full, round, perfect tits.

I hesitated. I honestly wasn’t sure at the time whether Emmy was seventeen or eighteen, but either way, it was not a good look to have a drunk naked girl her age in my room. And a third of a fifth... that's around 250 mL... is she going to be... well, I was finding it hard to do math right now.

But on the other hand, I was already painfully curious about her four orgasms. And I was seeing her naked for the first time. I was seeing Emmy Deidrich naked.

The tiebreaker, I guess, is that – well, I’ve tried to explain this, but when Emmy tells me to do something, I just do it.

I sat down on the bare mattress across from her. “Tell me about your four orgasms,” I said quietly.

“Yes, sir!” Emmy exclaimed. Then she laughed for about ten seconds. Then she suddenly stopped, and launched into a story.

“Orgasm number one,” she said. “I was thirteen years old. I was watching that movie Kick-Ass with Monica, and her brother Josh said it was retarded that Hit-Girl could fight like that because she was just a little girl, and I said ‘I’m just a little girl and I could beat your ass Josh,’ and he said I was a mouthy little bitch. I remember that, Kyle. ‘You’re a mouthy little bitch.’ is what he said, Kyle.”

I nodded.

“So we wrestled and he pinned my shoulders but I pulled my legs up between us and I wrapped them around his neck and I squeezed his neck between my legs and he wouldn’t give up, but I didn’t have them where I could knock him out or anything, so I squeezed and squeezed and Monica kept saying ‘You’re a high school wrestler and you can’t beat Emmy?’ and then Josh started to cry.” Emmy rolled over again onto her back, her nipples stiffening and pointing at my ceiling.

“And you had an orgasm??”

“Shhhhh,” she shushed me. “No, not just right then or anything, but that night I went in their bathroom and I stuck his toothbrush up my pussy and I came for the first time ever.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Orgasm number two!” she exclaimed abruptly. “Travis bought some MSM from GMC and he cooked it and hit it with a hammer and he sold it to some dude.”

I had no idea what any of that meant, but she had shushed me, so I kept quiet.

“So that dude came over with a knife and I completely broke his face, Kyle,” she concluded.

“You fought him?”

She sat back up and flashed me a wicked, predatory smile. “I knocked out some of his teeth and I had his blood on my hands and his nose was all crooked,” she slurred. “He hit me once and it hurt a little and it turned me on, but it turned me on more seeing his broken face and how surprised he was I broke it and how embarrassed he was I broke it and how he wanted to die. And then I stood over him and I pulled down my panties and rubbed my clit and I squirted all over his broken bloody face.”

“Fuck!” I cried out in surprise.

“And then I told him if he ever told anyone I’d find him and I’d kill him!” she concluded.

“Fuck,” I repeated.

“I’m a good person, Kyle,” Emmy insisted plaintively. “I was just protecting my brother from a criminal, Kyle, but I got so horny, and my pussy got so wet, Kyle.”

“Fuck.” I had forgotten all the other words.

“Orgasm number three was when I was sitting on your face while I was wrestling with Cody,” she said, abruptly abandoning the last story.

“What?!” The word fell out of my mouth before my brain was even done processing that sentence.

Emmy nodded. “I didn’t tell you but I came on your face.”

All I could do was stare.

Emmy laughed at the dumbstruck expression on my face. She drunkenly swayed back and forth, cross-legged and naked on my bed, and dramatically licked her lips.

“And then number four was ten minutes after I made you guys kiss my calves.”

I continued staring.

“I told you bitches that kissing my calves was some philosophy thing about keeping you out of trouble, but I just wanted to cum again.”

I couldn’t find any words.

“It sucked that I had to use my fingers,” she laughed. “I thought about how funny it would be to text you and asking if you used an electric toothbrush and if I could borrow it. I wanted to cum all over your toothbrush.”

She stopped talking. It was dead silent for a while. And then I finally found some words. “Emmy, are you telling me that half the orgasms in your entire life –“

“They were for you, Kyle,” she interrupted me. “And that’s why I said yes to you. That’s why I said I would get Cody’s stupid fucking expensive racquet. I wanted to cum again.”

Emmy was staring right at me. The drunken, lustful look in her eyes was disturbing.

As it turns out, I had every reason to be disturbed.
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