Submission

by Michel Houellebecq

Myriam came over at seven. “Happy birthday, François…,” she said in a tiny little voice when I opened the door, then she threw herself into my arms. Our lips and tongues met in a long, voluptuous kiss. As I walked her into the living room, I saw she was dressed even more sexily than last time. She had on another black miniskirt, even shorter than the one before, and stockings: when she sat down on the sofa I could see a garter, black against the top of her very white thigh. Her blouse, also black, was very sheer. I could see her breasts moving underneath. I realized that my fingers could still recall the touch of her aureoles. She offered a hesitant smile. There was something momentous and undecided in the air. “Did you bring me a present?” I asked, in what I hoped was a joking tone of voice, to lighten things up. “No,” she answered gravely. “I couldn’t find anything that seemed right.” After another silence, she suddenly spread her thighs wide; she was naked under her skirt, and it was so short that I could see the line of her pussy, waxed and nakedly innocent. “I’m giving you a blow job,” she said, “a good one. Come here, sit on the edge of the sofa.” I obeyed, letting her undress me. She kneeled down and began by tonguing my asshole, slowly and tenderly, then she took me by the hand and raised me to my feet. I leaned back against the wall. She kneeled down again and began licking my balls, all the while jacking me off with short quick strokes. “Tell me when you want me ...