How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

... one disappeared inside her. By the third, her moans were louder, more desperate, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to accommodate them.

But the fourth one... that was where the challenge lay. John lubed it up with Jeanie’s own arousal, his fingers expertly teasing her in the process. Her whimpers filled the room, a mix of pain and pleasure, anticipation and fear.

Positioning the ball at her entrance, John started to push. Jeanie’s hands clutched the edges of the pool table tightly, her knuckles white. The ball resisted, stubbornly refusing to go in despite John’s efforts. With a deep breath, he pushed harder, determination evident on his face.

Jeanie’s scream pierced the air, a raw, primal sound that spoke of both pleasure and pain. Her body convulsed, her back arching off the table, but John didn't relent. He kept pushing until, with a final, guttural moan from Jeanie, the ball popped into place.

She lay there, panting heavily, her eyes dazed and unfocused. The sight of her, so full, so overwhelmed, sent a thrill through me. John, equally affected, ran a hand through his damp hair, his cock twitching with unsated desire.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, bending down to capture Jeanie's lips in a possessive kiss. Their bodies, glistening with sweat and arousal, moved together in a dance as old as time, a testament to the raw, carnal energy in the room.

John, standing tall and confident, pointed a finger at Jeanie, who was still panting ...

... heavily from the sensation of being filled with the billiard balls. "Don't you dare let them slip out, Jeanie. I expect you to hold them in."

She whimpered in response, clearly struggling to keep them contained within her. The sheer weight and size were clearly testing her limits.

John's eyes then darted to an open space in the lavish living room. "Conjure up a couple of those fuck benches for me, Jeanie. Remember the ones we saw at that exclusive club? The ones where you're strapped down on your back, legs spread wide and tied down?"

Jeanie, despite the discomfort and the commanding nature of John's voice, obediently waved her hand, and in a shimmering display of magic, two lavish, black leather benches appeared. The design was explicit, crafted for one purpose and one purpose only. They looked intimidating, with various straps and restraints placed strategically for optimum access and restriction.

John turned his piercing gaze to me. "Emily, get on the bench," he ordered.

My heart raced. The fear, the anticipation, the uncertainty of what was about to unfold made my entire body quiver. Hesitantly, I approached one of the benches, looking to Jeanie for guidance. She gently guided me to lay on it, my back against the cold leather. Swiftly, yet with a tenderness that contrasted with John's harshness, she began strapping me down. My legs were spread apart, tied securely to the ends of the bench, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

"Jeanie," John's voice echoed, ...