How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

... that this was only the beginning.

As John moved towards me, his arousal was evident. My heart pounded in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears. The entire situation was surreal; it felt like a fever dream, one I was desperate to wake up from.

"Before we can start, we need to get you ready," John explained, his tone matter-of-fact, as if this were a normal conversation. "Jeanie has had some practice, you see. You're quite new to this."

Before I could process his words, he was inside me. The sudden intrusion stole the breath from my lungs. It was like an electric shock, sending waves of pain, pleasure, and a discomfort I wasn't familiar with, coursing through my body. The sensation was overwhelming; the intimate invasion, the cold air against my exposed skin, the pulsing throb of my heartbeat reverberating throughout my being.

John didn't move. He just stayed there, deep within me, stretching me in a way I'd never felt before. His hand reached out to the nearby pool table, fingers wrapping around one of the billiard balls. His lips curled into a smirk as he glanced at me, his eyes reflecting a cruel satisfaction.

"Just a few more seconds, Emily," he cooed, his voice deceptively gentle. Despite the fear coursing through me, I couldn't help but respond to the sound of his voice. It was hypnotic, lulling me into a false sense of security. I forced my eyes shut, bracing myself for what was to come next.

John's dark eyes fixated on Jeanie, and with a smirk, he ...

... ordered, "Jeanie, you're going to have to make her wet as fuck."

In response, a tingling sensation swept over me. From deep within, a flood of warmth cascaded, leaving me dripping. It was an involuntary response, and I gasped, feeling a torrent of lubrication pour out.

John, seemingly satisfied with the effect Jeanie had over me, took a step back. As he withdrew, the emptiness inside was palpable. The chill of the room made itself known against the hyper-sensitized skin of my intimate area. I braced myself for what was coming next.

My heart raced as he reached for the first billiard ball. Its smooth, cool surface looked almost benign, but the size was daunting. I watched, frozen, as John began to align the ball with my entrance. Every little sensation was magnified; the initial touch of the cool, hard ball against the soft, slick folds sent an uncomfortable shiver through me.

With measured force, John pressed the ball against me. The pressure built agonizingly slowly. The hardness of the ball felt foreign and intrusive, and I whimpered, feeling the firmness of it pushing past the resistance of my body. The sensation was one of intense stretching, a feeling of being filled in a way I had never experienced before. The rigidity of the ball offered no give, no comfort, as it slowly began its journey inside.

I gasped as the widest part of the ball started to penetrate. My body instinctively recoiled, the discomfort verging on pain, as the ball was forced past the ...