Erotic Stories: Only the Tip—For Now with Jenna
- 4 days ago
- 5 min read
This Erotic story is written with XXX Story AI Writer
The moment Jenna’s back hit the sofa cushions, her white-pink lace bra straining against her chest as she arched beneath me, I knew our bargain of "just the tip" was already shattered.
The torn knees of her jeans—those fucking jeans—were splayed open, the denim clinging to her thighs like a second skin, the zipper already undone from my impatient fingers. Her breath came in sharp little gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as I hovered over her, my cock already throbbing against the damp heat of her through the thin barrier of her panties.
“You promised,” she whined, but her hips rolled up, grinding against me, her voice thick with need. The way her lips parted, swollen from our kisses, the way her tongue darted out to wet them—fuck, she wanted this as much as I did. The pretense was gone. There was no turning back now.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her jeans and yanked, the denim peeling away from her skin with a rough drag. She lifted her ass just enough to let me strip them down her legs, leaving her in nothing but that flimsy bra and a pair of black lace panties that were already soaked through. The scent of her—sweet, musky, desperate—filled my senses as I pressed my mouth to the inside of her thigh, biting just hard enough to make her whimper.
“Shut up,” I growled against her skin, dragging my teeth up higher, my breath hot through the damp fabric. “You like breaking the rules.”
Her back bowed off the couch as I finally, finally pulled her panties aside and ran my tongue through her folds. She tasted like sin, like salt and honey, her thighs trembling as I circled her clit before diving deeper. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her moans turning breathless, broken. “Fuck—please—”
I didn’t make her beg twice.
In one rough motion, I flipped her onto her stomach, her ass in the air, that bra still clinging to her as I dragged her panties the rest of the way off. The sight of her—spread open for me, glistening, needy—made my cock ache. I spat into my palm and stroked myself, the sound obscene in the quiet of the living room, before pressing the head against her entrance.
“Still think this is just the tip?” I taunted, pushing in just an inch, just enough to make her whine.
“Fuck you,” she gasped, but her body betrayed her, pushing back, trying to take more.
I gripped her hips and slammed home.
The cry that tore from her throat was half shock, half relief, her nails scraping against the sofa cushions as I bottomed out inside her. She was tight, so fucking tight, her walls clenching around me as I pulled back and thrust in again, harder this time. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with her breathless moans and the wet, obscene sounds of her taking every inch.
“God, yes—” she sobbed, her back arching as I reached around to pinch her clit, rolling the sensitive flesh between my fingers as I fucked her. “Don’t—don’t stop—”
Like I could.
I leaned over her, my chest pressing against her back as I drove into her, my teeth grazing the shell of her ear. “You’re mine,” I snarled, my hips snapping against her ass, the impact making her whimper. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she choked out, her voice raw. “Fuck, I’m yours—”
Her body locked up, her walls fluttering around me as her orgasm crashed over her. I didn’t let up, pounding into her through it, drawing out every last shuddering gasp before my own release hit me like a freight train. I buried myself deep and came with a groan, my cock pulsing inside her as I filled her, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
We collapsed onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs, her bra still half-on, her skin slick with sweat, her breath coming in ragged little pants against my shoulder. The air smelled like sex, like us, and when she finally turned her head to press a lazy, satisfied kiss to my jaw, her lips curved into a smirk.
“So,” she murmured, her voice husky. “Still think we can stick to bargains?”
The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the sweat-slicked curves of Lena’s body as she arched against the rumpled sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps. My cock throbbed in my grip, the swollen head already glistening with precome, the heat between us so thick it made the air hum. She’d begged for this—begged for me—and now, as I pressed the broad tip against her dripping entrance, her inner walls fluttered in anticipation, as if trying to pull me in before I even pushed.
“Just the tip,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her nails digging into my forearms. “I swear, I can take it.”
I smirked, dragging the crown in slow, teasing circles over her soaked folds, letting her feel the weight of it, the promise. Then, with deliberate slowness, I fed just the first inch inside. Lena’s back bowed off the bed, a broken moan tearing from her throat as her tight, clenching heat enveloping me. Her muscles rippled, trying to drag me deeper, but I pulled back before she could take more.
“Such a good girl,” I murmured, watching her whimper as I lined up again, this time pressing the tip against her puckered back entrance. Her breath hitched, her body tensing—not in fear, but in that delicious, nervous excitement of the unknown. “You want this too, don’t you?”
She bit her lip, nodding frantically. “Yes, but—just the tip. Please.”
I chuckled darkly, spitting onto my fingers before working them in slow, tightening circles over her tight ring. The moment she relaxed, I pressed forward, the resistance giving way as the flared head breached her. Lena gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her thighs trembling. “Fuck—oh god—”
“Shhh,” I soothed, withdrawing just enough to leave only the tip inside, letting her adjust to the stretch, the fullness. Then, without warning, I pulled out completely and dragged the slick crown up to her mouth. Her lips parted instinctively, her tongue flicking out to taste herself on me before I pushed just the tip past her teeth. She hollowed her cheeks, swirling her tongue around the ridge, her eyes watering as I hit the back of her throat.
“Such a greedy little slut,” I growled, pulling free with a wet pop. “Which hole do you want it in next?”
Lena panted, her chest heaving, her skin flushed pink with need. “My—my pussy. Please.”
I obliged, lining up again, this time sinking the tip inside with a slow, twisting motion that made her whine. Her walls clamped down, desperate, but I retreated before she could take more. Over and over, I teased her—her cunt, her mouth, her ass—each time withdrawing before she could get what she really craved. By the time I pressed the tip against her back entrance again, she was a trembling, begging mess, her body slick with sweat, her voice reduced to broken, needy sounds.
“Just the tip again, right?” she rasped, her voice thick with sarcasm, but her eyes pleaded—for more, for all of it, for me to stop toying with her and fuck her already.
That’s when I grabbed her hips and drove forward—not just the tip, not just an inch, but all of me, burying myself to the hilt in her ass in one brutal, claiming thrust.
Lena screamed, her body locking up as the burn of the stretch gave way to a deep, shuddering pleasure. But then her eyes flew open, wide with shock, as she felt something else—something thick and unyielding pressing against her lower back.
“What the—? THIS IS NOT JUST THE ... TIP”
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