This is a story from when I was a high school freshman. I had been dating my girlfriend for three weeks. We were both extremely innocent, having only lightly kissed so far. We were at my house for an after-school study session, and my parents weren't home from work yet.
The silence in the living room wasn't heavy, not exactly. Just... *there*. Amplified by the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall, the only other sound the occasional rustle of a textbook page. Except neither of us had turned a page in probably ten minutes. My history book lay open on the coffee table, a dense block of text about the Reformation that seemed completely alien. Across from me, tucked into the corner of the sofa, sat Jenna. She chewed absently on the end of her pen, leaving faint teeth marks in the cheap plastic.
She was small. Not just short, but *small* all over. Delicate, almost. Her faded jeans hugged skinny legs, the knees ripped because that was the style, showing pale skin underneath. A simple white t-shirt clung loosely to her torso, hinting at the slight swell of her chest – breasts that were probably barely handfuls, if that. Her light brown hair, cut short, framed a face that still held a lot of kid-like softness. Three weeks we’d been "going out," whatever that meant. A few awkward, fumbled kisses after school near the bike racks. That was it.
Now, alone in my house, the air felt different. Charged. My palms were sweating, sticking slightly to the cover of my textbook. The clock ticked again, each second stretching out. Jenna sighed softly, dropping her pen onto her notebook. It clattered faintly. "This chapter is *so* boring," she murmured, tucking one foot underneath her.
"Tell me about it," I mumbled, finally looking up from the page I hadn't actually been reading. My voice sounded a little too loud in the quiet room.
Jenna offered a small smile, pushing her notebook aside. "Break time?"
"Definitely." Relief washed over me. Studying was the last thing on my mind. I slammed my history book shut, the sound echoing slightly. The clock in the hall kept ticking, marking time that suddenly felt less structured, more open-ended. Jenna stretched, her arms rising above her head, the hem of her t-shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of pale stomach above the waistband of her jeans. She yawned, a small, unguarded sound.
"So," she said, letting her arms fall back to her sides. "What do you wanna do?"
My mind went blank. What *did* I want to do? The real answer lodged itself somewhere in my throat, hot and unspoken. *Kiss you.* Properly this time. Not like those quick pecks by the dumpsters after school. I shifted on the worn armchair, the vinyl squeaking underneath me. "Uh..." I stalled, my gaze drifting around the room, landing on the TV, the dusty bookshelves, anywhere but her face. The silence stretched again, thicker this time.
Jenna watched me, her head tilted slightly. She wasn't smiling anymore, just... waiting.
Screw it.
I stood up, maybe a bit too quickly. My legs felt stiff. I walked the few steps over to the sofa and sat down beside her. Not too close, but close enough that our knees were almost touching. The sofa cushions dipped under my weight. I could smell her shampoo, something fruity and clean.
"Jenna?" My voice was barely a whisper.
She looked at me, her lips slightly parted. She didn't pull away.
Leaning in felt like moving through water. Slow, deliberate. My heart hammered against my ribs. I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Our noses bumped awkwardly for a second, a jolt of clumsy reality. I hesitated, inches away, seeing the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.
Then, I closed the distance. Our lips met. Soft. Hesitant. Just a press, really. Not like the movies. It was warm, though. Surprisingly warm. And soft. Her lips were softer than I'd imagined.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to see her expression. Her lips were slightly pinker now. She didn't say anything, just watched me.
Okay. That wasn't so bad. I leaned in again, bolder this time. Our mouths met, and this time it wasn't just a press. It was a kiss. Still closed-mouth, tentative, but a real kiss. I raised a hand, unsure where to put it, finally settling it gently on her shoulder. Her skin felt warm through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Her shoulder was bony under my palm. She didn't pull away. Instead, she shifted slightly, turning more towards me. Her own hand came up, resting lightly on my chest, right over my wildly beating heart.
The kiss deepened. My lips parted slightly, tentatively tracing the seam of hers. A tiny, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. Encouraged, I tilted my head, trying to find a better angle. My tongue nervously brushed against hers. It was wet, unexpected. A jolt shot through me, pooling low in my gut. We kissed like that for what felt like a long time, just exploring. Awkward angles, gentle pressure, the soft, wet slide of tongue against tongue. My hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, tracing the delicate bones, before settling hesitantly on her waist. It felt incredibly small under my hand, the slight curve of her hip surprisingly firm beneath the loose fabric. Beneath my jeans, I felt myself getting hard. Instantly, uncomfortably hard. Jenna pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, though our faces were still close. Her breathing was a little quicker now, her cheeks flushed pink. She licked her lips slowly.
"Wow," she breathed.
Her "Wow" hung in the air between us, charged with the static electricity of the last few minutes. My heart was still thudding, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. The hard ridge pressed insistently against the zipper of my jeans.
I swallowed, my throat dry. "Yeah," I managed, my voice sounding strained. "Wow."
My hand was still on her waist. I could feel the slight give of her flesh, the solid line of her hip bone beneath. It felt… good. Too good. Dangerous.
"So..." I started, then stopped. How to even say this? The words felt clumsy, wrong. "Do you... uh... do you wanna maybe... try some stuff?"
Jenna blinked, pulling back just a fraction more, though my hand remained on her waist. Her cheeks were still flushed. "Stuff?" she echoed, her voice small. "Like... what kind of stuff?"
My brain scrambled. What *did* I mean? More kissing? Touching? Where? The thought sent another jolt straight down, making the ache intensify. "I dunno," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze, focusing instead on the pattern of the sofa fabric. "Like... more? Touching, maybe?" My hand flexed slightly on her waist without me consciously telling it to. She followed my gaze down to my hand, then quickly looked back up at my face. Her brow furrowed slightly. She bit her lower lip, a nervous habit I recognized. The clock ticked loudly from the hall. Tick. Tock.
"Touching where?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
This was it. Point of no return. My own face felt hot. "Like... under your shirt?" I suggested, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Or..." My voice trailed off. Say it. Just say it. "...or maybe... you could, like... show me... you know?"
Jenna’s breath hitched. She stared at me, her expression a mixture of shock and something else... curiosity? Fear? "Show you... *what*?"
God, this was excruciating. "You know," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. "Down there. Your... your pussy." The word felt foreign, harsh, hanging in the suddenly heavy air.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She pulled her hand away from my chest, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Silence. Just the clock. Tick. Tock. She looked down at her lap, then back up at me, her gaze uncertain.
"Why?" she whispered.
"I just... I wanna see," I said honestly, my voice low. "I'm curious. Aren't you?"
She didn't answer immediately, just continued to worry the fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Her small chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The moment stretched, fragile, ready to shatter.
Then, almost too quiet to hear, she breathed, "Okay." She hesitated, then slowly, deliberately, reached for the button on her jeans.
Okay? Just like that? My brain stuttered. *Okay?* A jolt, stronger than any before, shot through me. My dick, already painfully hard, seemed to pulse against the confining fabric of my jeans. Holy shit. This was actually happening. I was going to see it. A real girl's pussy. Jenna's pussy. My breath caught somewhere in my chest. I leaned forward slightly, unconsciously, my eyes glued to her hands as they worked the metal button free. The sound it made – a faint *pop* – was ridiculously loud in the silent room. Her fingers fumbled for a second with the zipper tab. It was brass, glinting slightly. Then, the rasping sound of the zipper sliding down. Zzzzzzzip. Down it went, parting the denim.
My mouth went dry. My heart was a frantic hammer against my ribs, beating so hard I felt it in my ears. I felt hot all over, sweat prickling at my hairline despite the cool air conditioning humming faintly somewhere in the house. I couldn't look away. Every nerve ending felt alive, focused entirely on the patch of pale skin and whatever lay beneath the waistband she was now slowly, tentatively, starting to push down. Jenna glanced up, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second. She saw it. She had to see the raw excitement, the desperate curiosity plastered all over my face. She saw how hard I was staring, how my breath came a little too fast. A faint pink deepened on her cheeks, but a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk flickered at the corner of her lips. A little thrill seemed to pass through her, seeing the effect she was having. She liked that I was this worked up.
Her hands hesitated for just a moment more at the pale blue waistband of her underwear peeking above the pushed-down denim, before she continued to ease her jeans lower over her slim hips.
Her jeans slid lower, bunching around her upper thighs. The pale blue cotton of her panties followed, pushed down by her thumbs until they rested just below the curve of her belly. And there it was. My breath hitched. It wasn’t like the crude drawings guys passed around or the blurry shapes glimpsed in magazines hidden under beds. It was... small, neat, nestled right there between her pale thighs. A soft-looking mound rose gently, covered in a patch of fine, light brown hair – darker than the hair on her head, but soft-looking, curling slightly. It wasn't a thick bush, more like a neat triangle that tapered down, framing what lay beneath. The skin around it looked incredibly smooth, almost translucent.
My eyes traced the shape, utterly captivated. The mound sloped down into definite outer lips, plump but not thick, matching the pale tone of her surrounding skin. They looked soft, like pillows almost, pressed together neatly down the middle. They formed a gentle, curved seam, running vertically. No harsh lines, just soft curves meeting perfectly. They disappeared towards the back, tucked between the tops of her thighs. My gaze lingered on the texture, imagining how soft that skin must be. The sheer vulnerability of it, right there in front of me, made my own skin prickle.
Following that central line downwards, my focus narrowed on the very center, the seam where the outer lips met. Just at the top, almost hidden, was a tiny wrinkle of flesh, the delicate hood guarding whatever lay beneath. And right below that, the outer lips parted just slightly, revealing a hint of something else inside. A different shade of pink, maybe slightly darker, damper-looking. This was the slit itself, the entrance. It looked impossibly small, incredibly private, a thin dark line disappearing into the soft folds. Just seeing that glimpse of inner pink, the suggestion of depth and hidden wetness, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me, making my cock strain fiercely against my zipper.
My voice came out choked, barely a whisper. "Holy shit, Jenna... It's..." I struggled for the right word, my eyes still fixed on the soft mound and the delicate crease between her legs. "...amazing."
She shifted slightly, pulling her knees up a bit, though she didn't cover herself completely. Her jeans were still pooled around her thighs, the pale blue panties just below the soft V of hair. "Really?" she asked, her voice small. "It's... not weird?"
"No! No, not weird at all," I rushed to reassure her, finally tearing my gaze away to meet hers. "It's just... wow. I never... It's really beautiful, Jenna. Seriously." The heat climbed my neck again, but I meant it. It *was* beautiful, in a way that was completely different from anything I'd ever thought about before. Soft and private and... real.
A tiny smile touched her lips again. She seemed pleased, maybe a little relieved. "So... you liked seeing it?"
"Yeah," I breathed, glancing down again briefly. The insistent pressure in my own jeans hadn't lessened one bit. "Yeah, I really did." We sat there for another moment, the clock ticking. The initial shock was fading, replaced by a buzzing awareness of *what now?* The air felt thick with possibilities, unspoken questions hanging between us.
"So..." Jenna started hesitantly, mirroring my earlier awkwardness. She picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion. "What... what happens now?"
I swallowed, looking from her face, flushed and expectant, down to where her jeans were still unzipped and pushed down. "I dunno," I said, my voice low and rough. "I guess... we could kiss some more?" I paused, gathering courage. "Or... maybe I could... touch you? There?" I nodded towards her lap. "Or... maybe... you wanna see mine?"
Jenna's cheeks flushed even brighter. She shifted again, pulling the edges of her pushed-down jeans slightly closer together, though not zipping them up. Her eyes darted from my face to my crotch, where the undeniable evidence of my excitement was tenting my jeans, then quickly back to my eyes. "Um..." She chewed on her lower lip again, thinking. "Kissing more sounds... nice," she admitted softly. Her gaze flickered down towards her own lap, where her panties were still exposed above the denim. "But... you touching me?" Her voice dropped lower, laced with uncertainty. "I... I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. It feels... like a lot. Just showing you was..." she trailed off, shaking her head slightly. She took a breath, her gaze locking with mine again, a spark of nervous curiosity flickering within it. "But... maybe... maybe *I* could see *yours*?" The question hung there, tentative but deliberate. "Like, fair's fair, right? And... I'm kinda curious too." She paused, a little shyly. "But maybe... maybe we kiss some more first?"
"Okay," I agreed immediately, relief flooding me. Kissing first? Absolutely. And she wanted to see *mine*? Holy crap. "Yeah. Kissing sounds... perfect."
I leaned in again, and this time there was less hesitation. Our lips met more easily, finding a rhythm. It was still soft, tentative, but laced with a new kind of anticipation. Her mouth opened slightly under mine, welcoming the gentle sweep of my tongue. It tasted sweet, faintly of the soda we'd had earlier. My hand, still resting on her hip above where her jeans were bunched, moved slightly. I didn't push it lower, respecting what she'd said, but my thumb traced the curve of her hipbone through the thin fabric of her panties. She didn't pull away; instead, she made a tiny sound in the back of her throat, a soft hum that vibrated against my lips. Her own hand crept up from my chest, fingers tangling tentatively in the hair at the back of my neck, pulling me fractionally closer. The kissing deepened again, getting hotter, messier. My tongue explored the soft interior of her mouth, meeting hers in slick, sliding caresses. The hardness in my jeans was a constant, aching pressure, a physical reminder of where this was heading. I shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort, my thigh brushing against hers.
After a few minutes that felt both incredibly long and ridiculously short, Jenna gently pulled back, her breath coming in soft pants. Her lips looked slightly swollen, damp. Her eyes, when they met mine, were wide and dark, filled with a mixture of nervousness and definite excitement.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice a little shaky. "Your turn."
My heart leaped into my throat. *My turn.* Okay. Right. I took a shaky breath, my own hands suddenly clumsy as I reached for the button of my jeans. It felt oddly stiff, resisting my fumbling fingers. Finally, it popped open. Then the zipper. The harsh rasp sounded even louder than hers had, echoing the frantic pace of my pulse.
Zzzzzzzzzip. I pushed the waistband down, mirroring what she had done, revealing the plain white cotton of my briefs stretched taut over the undeniable bulge beneath. It felt incredibly exposed, even still covered. I glanced at Jenna. Her eyes were wide, fixed on my lap, her lips slightly parted in unmistakable curiosity.
Okay. My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest, the sound echoing in my ears as her gaze locked onto the straining fabric of my briefs. This was... weird. Showing this to her. Something I only ever saw myself, something I kept hidden. Now, revealed for Jenna.
She didn't say anything for a long moment, just looked. Looked at the bulge, at the way the white cotton was pulled tight over it. Her cheeks were still flushed, maybe even a little deeper now, but the fear seemed to be gone, replaced by that same wide, curious gaze.
"Wow," she whispered, repeating the word she'd used earlier, but this time it sounded different. A little breathless. "That's... really big."
I swallowed hard, feeling the compliment like a jolt. Me? Big? Compared to what? But hearing her say it, seeing her stare at it... it made my chest puff out a little, even as I squirmed internally with nerves and the intense pressure of being exposed.
"You think?" I croaked, the question unnecessary, just something to fill the air.
"Yeah," she confirmed, her voice firmer now. "Like... wow. It's... intense." Her eyes flicked up to mine, a nervous but excited energy sparking between us. "I mean... it's... hard."
"Yeah," I muttered, stating the obvious. It felt *painfully* hard. Aching for relief. We just looked at each other for another moment, then both of our gazes drifted downwards simultaneously, landing right on the exposed patch of fabric straining between my legs. The silence stretched again, thicker than ever, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Suddenly, Jenna spoke, her voice soft, almost reverent. "It's just... crazy, right?"
"What is?"
"Like... this," she gestured vaguely between us, her hand hovering over my exposed zipper area then her own. "It's just... it's weird to realize that we *could*. Like, we could just... have sex. Right now. I mean—God, not that we would or anything! Just... the fact that we're here and we could... it's a crazy thought."
The words hung in the air, naked and unbelievable. She'd dismissed the idea as quickly as she'd brought it up, but the thought still hit me with the force of a physical blow, taking my breath away. It was true. The potential was right there. Closer than it had ever felt, closer than I had ever imagined it could be with her.
"Yeah," I finally managed, the single word thick with the weight of the realization. "We totally... could." It seemed impossible, overwhelming, and yet... terrifyingly simple. My eyes fell to her lap again, to the pale mound, the neat triangle of hair, the hidden, damp crease between the pink lips. Then to my own straining briefs, the swollen, hard presence pushing relentlessly forward.
"I mean... wow," she breathed, her voice a mix of disbelief and fascination. "It's just such a... a powerful thought. I never imagined we'd be this close to... even the idea of it."
The sheer, raw, unbelievable fact of it hung between us, heavy and humming. The impossible ease of just... doing it. Like stepping off a curb. Except this felt like stepping off a cliff. We pulled at the edges of the thought, afraid but undeniably drawn. No parents. No interruptions. Just us. And *this*.
"But... like... wouldn't that hurt?" Jenna finally asked, her voice tinged with a fresh layer of apprehension. "I mean... it looks... tight." Her eyes flicked down to the head straining against my fly, then back to her own body.
My mind replayed those crass locker room conversations, the half-truths and exaggerated boasts. I didn't know. Not really.
"Maybe? I dunno," I admitted, the honesty surprising even myself. "But... we're not gonna, like... *do* it. Not all the way. Not like... you know."
Jenna was quiet, tracing patterns on the soft fabric of her exposed panties with a fingertip. "But... what if we just...?" she started, then hesitated.
My heart leaped. "Just... what?"
She met my gaze, her eyes wide. "Just... touch?" The word felt both safe and incredibly daring. "Like... touch the tip? Against... you know. My hole?" She flushed again as she said the word, but she said it. "Just... to see what it feels like? To... to put it there?"
A fire ignited low in my gut. Just the tip? Just a touch? That seemed... possible. Manageable. Still pushing boundaries, yeah, still utterly terrifying and completely wrong, but not... *everything*. Not jumping off the whole cliff. Just dipping a toe over the edge.
"Just the tip?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jenna nodded, slow and serious. "Yeah. Just... the very tip. To feel what it's like. But that's it. Okay? We just... feel it there. We don't... we don't push or anything."
It felt like a compromise, a risky, exhilarating compromise. A stepping stone onto a path we never thought we'd walk. My cock felt like it would explode just at the thought of its tip finally touching that soft, mysterious skin, that secret hidden place.
"Okay," I agreed, my voice rough with contained excitement. "Just the tip. To feel it. Nothing more."
The bargain was struck. The air thickened, humming with a new, unbearable tension. The quiet tick-tock of the clock seemed louder than ever, counting down to something inevitable. We looked at each other, breathless, scared, and impossibly turned on. The next few seconds were going to change everything.
The air between us hummed. Just the tip. The bargain, fragile and electric, hung suspended in the charged silence. Her eyes, wide and a little scared, were fixed on mine, searching. My gaze dropped, settling again on her body, on the pale curve of her hips where her unzipped jeans and panties were pulled down, exposing that soft triangle of light hair and the neatly closed, tantalizing slit it framed. It still looked impossibly small, impossibly soft.
My hand, trembling slightly, went to the elastic waistband of my briefs. Slowly, tentatively, I hooked my fingers under the cotton, pulling them downwards just far enough to free my cock. It sprang free with a tiny, almost audible sound against the denim bunched around my thighs. It was hard, aching, pointing upwards and slightly forward, rigid with a mixture of nervous energy and desperate desire. The head felt slick and sensitive in the sudden cool air. My palm traced the length of it, feeling the hard shaft, the sensitive glans, the pulsing heat that radiated from it. It glistened faintly, already producing a drop of pre-cum, a pearl of anticipation perched at the slit in the tip.
I leaned forward on the sofa, moving closer to her, bringing my body, my exposed cock, closer to hers, to that secret place. She didn't shrink away. Her legs, still slightly bent and spread just enough to give me the slightest glimpse, seemed to soften, shifting minimally on the cushions. My eyes locked on her cunt again. The delicate pink lips were still pressed together, moist and tempting. Taking a shaky breath, I held my rigid cock in one hand, guiding the throbbing head towards her. My other hand reached out, fingers brushing the pale soft skin of her inner thigh. It felt warm, impossibly smooth. I could feel her slight tremor under my touch.
Slower now. My hand hovered, positioning the engorged head of my dick over the small, soft mound. Just the tip. That was the deal. To feel the heat, the dampness, the promise. My cock, thick and hard, nudged against the fine, light hair carpeting her mound. Soft. It felt softer than it looked. A shiver went through her body, a little ripple under my hand on her thigh. She made a tiny, choked sound, a soft gasp.
Still holding my dick steady, I applied the lightest pressure. The engorged tip sank slightly into the soft hair. Then, guiding it just a fraction further, I nudged the glistening head against the delicate outer lips of her cunt. They were soft, like warm velvet. Impossibly yielding under the slight pressure. A jolt, electric and profound, shot through me as my cockhead finally touched that spot. Wet. It felt incredibly wet, even just the outside. The warmth enveloped the sensitive tip, a consuming heat that made me want to press forward, to bury myself inside. But I held back, remembering the bargain. Just the tip.
Her thighs relaxed a fraction more, her small cunt parting almost imperceptibly in response to the touch of my cock. I saw a glimpse of darker, glistening pink, deep in the crack between the lips. The sight, combined with the overwhelming sensation of my dickhead nestled there, just touching her, just feeling that incredible warmth and wetness, made my head spin. I felt dangerously close to coming right there, just from the sheer intensity of the contact. My body trembled. Hers did too, a matching tremor passing through her small frame. We just held that position, my tip pressing lightly against her incredibly soft, wet cuntlips, feeling. Just feeling.
The contact was unbearable, exquisite. My dickhead, thick and swollen, was right *there*, nestled against the soft, wet folds of her cunt. My hand on her thigh felt the tremor still running through her body, mirroring the tremor in my own. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat echoing the thrumming intensity low in my gut. The air was thick, heavy with unspoken desire, electric with the terrifying thrill of being this close. Jenna let out another soft whimper, her fingers curling lightly against the sofa cushion. She tilted her head back slightly, eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted in shallow breaths. The faint musk of her arousal, mixed with my own, hung in the air, a potent, intoxicating perfume. We were just supposed to *feel* it. Just the tip. Just touching. But now that we were here, the reality of it was so much more. My pre-cum was lubricating the outside of her cunt, making the connection feel slick and warm. The velvety softness of her skin against my hard, sensitive glans was almost too much to bear.
A new thought, insidious and intoxicating, snaked into my mind. What if... what if I just nudged forward? Not all the way. Not *fucking* her. Just a tiny bit. Just past the outside lips. Just enough to feel what it was like inside that incredible, hidden wetness. The bargain we'd made felt suddenly flimsy, drowned out by the pounding need in my body. My grip on my dick tightened. Slowly, cautiously, I began to apply the slightest pressure, pushing gently downwards.
Slowly. My hand felt the slick heat gathered at the head of my cock as I pressed, just nudging past the border of soft hair. My eyes were locked on the delicate lips, a place where they met, the narrow line of her inner slit. The world narrowed to this one point of contact. The unbelievably soft give of her flesh under the tip of my dick. It wasn't a push *in*, not yet, just a soft pressure *downward*, against her. Feeling the shape, the moistness, the slight resistance of her body right there.
Jenna's head snapped forward, her eyes flying open, wide and dark. A small sound, caught somewhere between a gasp and a choke, escaped her lips – "Mh..." Her small hands, which had been resting loosely on the cushions, clenched into fists, knuckles white. Her body tensed underneath me, a sudden rigidness rippling through her legs, her hips.
But she didn't push me away. Her gaze locked onto where my dick was touching her, her eyes glazed over with a sudden, raw intensity. I could feel the very tips of her outer cunt lips part the slightest bit wider under the pressure, like a flower petal being gently peeled back. More dampness flooded the area, soaking my dickhead, making the contact even more unbelievably slick and hot. Her own breathing became audible, shallow, ragged little gasps in the silent room. "Oh." A soft, shaky exhalation. The fine hair on her mound seemed to dampen down against her skin.
My cock throbbed violently against her. Just that tiny give, that soft parting, the raw, unadulterated feeling of her wet flesh against my head sent a searing jolt through my own body. My gut tightened, my breath hitched, and I felt dangerously close to losing all control, right here, just from touching her like this. Her sharp, indrawn breath and the sudden, undeniable clenching of her muscles were a response, a raw, pure reaction to my touch. And I was right there, feeling every nuanced tightening of her body around the velvet softness my dick was now resting against.
We froze. My dickhead, swollen and slick with pre-cum, was pressing right there, against the incredibly soft, yielding lips of her cunt. They were wet now, glistening in the dim light, clinging faintly to my tip with unbelievable warmth and softness. It felt like resting against velvet, alive and hot and pulsing. Jenna was rigid underneath me, her hands clenched into tight fists, her arms pressed back into the sofa cushions. Her breathing was shallow, ragged little intakes of air that did nothing to still the tremors running through her small body. Her thighs were tensed, pressed in against my own, trapping my cock right where it was. Her eyes, wide and startled, were fixed on that impossibly intimate point of contact, dilated and dark with a shock of raw sensation. I could see the fine hair on her mound flattened and wet right where my dick nested. Beads of sweat were appearing at her hairline.
The sensation was overwhelming. Being stopped right here, at the edge, felt almost worse than not starting at all. My cock throbbed with a life of its own, aching with the need to push, to slide past that incredibly tight, glistening opening. My muscles screamed at me to thrust, to bury the head deep inside her heat. But I stayed still, clenching my jaw, fighting the primal urge. Her cunt lips were parted just enough to feel the moist heat radiating from within, taste the faint metallic scent of her arousal thick in the air. I could feel the tiny wrinkle of her hood under the edge of my tip, incredibly sensitive, already slick with her wetness pouring out. Every nerve ending flared, vibrating with the intensity of it all. For a long, breathless moment, we stayed like that, locked in a frozen tableau of unbearable tension. The clock ticked somewhere in the house, marking seconds that stretched into an eternity. The delicate dampness of her cunt lips surrounding my head felt like coming undone.
Jenna finally made a small sound, a choked sob that broke the silence. Her clenched fingers relaxed slightly on the cushions, her small body giving a subtle tremor, before she slowly, tentatively, began to *move*. Not pulling away entirely, but shifting her hips, a tiny, almost imperceptible grind against my cockhead.
Jenna's movement wasn't a forceful shove or a wide gyration. It was something much smaller, much more raw. A tiny, almost convulsive tremor started somewhere deep in her core and rippled outward. Her hips tilted, just slightly, pressing the soft cradle of her cunt forward against my cockhead with the barest fraction of pressure. Her inner thighs squeezed infinitesimally inward, pulling my hardness closer, gripping it gently between them above her actual slit. My dickhead, already screamingly sensitive, rubbed against the swollen, wet lips of her cunt, slick with pre-cum and her own dampness. It felt like sliding over impossibly plush, hot silk. As she tilted, her outer lips, plump and glistening, stretched and parted around the very crown of my glans, gripping that unbelievably sensitive edge. The wet seam of her slit, that impossibly small, dark line, opened just enough to swallow the very rim of my head, just the widest part right at the tip. It slipped past the outermost folds with a soft, squishy give, embedding itself against the incredible warmth and unbelievable *tightness* just inside. It was the barest, tiniest entry – not the whole head, just the sensitive, rounded cap, nested against the softest, warmest flesh imaginable, just past the initial opening.
A sharp, broken sound, "nngh!" ripped from Jenna's throat. Her small hands flew up from the cushions, fingers splayed wide, trembling. Her body arched minutely, lifting her hips a tiny bit as the full, consuming tightness of her opening closed down around that narrow edge of my cock. My glans felt suddenly *trapped* in soft, hot, gripping muscle. Her outer lips were pushed back around the root of my head, revealing the inner lips underneath, a moist, pinker color, now pressed tight around my entering tip. Sweat beaded on her upper lip.
We were in. Just the very, very tip, but it was unmistakably *in*.
Her small body hummed, a taut string pulled almost to breaking. My dickhead, just the very crown, was now sealed in that impossibly tight, slick velvet. It felt like the world had narrowed to the circle of her gripping cunt muscles around my tip, the intense heat radiating from her insides, the slick wetness coating me. The soft mound of hair on her mound pressed against the base of my glans, slightly flattened, already damp. Jenna's breath came in short, ragged gasps, sounds that were more like raw animal sounds than human voice. "Mh... oh god..." Her back arched another infinitesimal amount, lifting her hips fractionally off the sofa, tilting her body into mine. The grip around my tip intensified with the movement, a soft, insistent clenching that made the blood rush to my head and my legs feel shaky. The outer lips, pale and slick, were stretched open now, pulled back gently around the entrance of my dick, exposing the pinker, wetter, inner folds. They were unbelievably delicate, wet and gripping tightly around that tiny portion of me. I could see a little ridge of darker flesh right at the top, her clit hood, pulled taut as my tip was inside, glistening with moisture pouring from her. The small opening of her pussy, that neat slit, had parted just enough to accommodate that part of me, stretching and clinging and gripping with unbelievable tightness.
Fighting the overwhelming urge to lunge forward, to bury my entire length inside her, I held absolutely still. My own body was vibrating, a live wire on the verge of snapping. Every inch of my skin felt electrified, every muscle tight with the strain of restraint. My dick, already hard to the point of aching, felt unbelievably sensitive, surrounded by her incredible heat and wetness, held captive by her gripping insides. She didn't say 'stop'. Didn't push me off. Instead, her hands, splayed wide on the cushions beside her, flexed. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric, gripping tightly, as another small, involuntary tremor wracked her body, sending a tiny ripple of her cunt muscles squeezing around my embedded tip. A low, guttural sound, full of raw feeling, escaped her throat. "Ahhh..." she moaned softly, a sound of surrender and raw sensation combined. The intense warmth, the gripping tension, the slick wetness – it was overwhelming. I could feel the pulse of blood deep inside her, echoing the frantic beat of my own heart.
Her small body trembled beneath me, holding me captive right there, just the tip of my dick nested in the damp, incredibly tight heat of her cunt. It felt like my head was pulsating inside her, every beat of my own heart echoing in the saturated, gripping flesh. The outer lips were pulled back, slick with wetness, pressing against the root of my glans while the muscles just inside squeezed, a raw, insistent tension that made the pre-cum ooze even more heavily, mingling with her juice, making the contact even more intense.
A flash hit me, sharp and clear. *We're fifteen.* High school freshmen. Sitting on the sofa in my living room. This was supposed to be about history class, maybe a couple of awkward make-out sessions. Not... *this*. Not having her cunt literally clenching around the head of my dick. We were just kids. This felt... wrong. Too much. We shouldn't be here. Parents could walk through the door any second, and what the hell would they see? Unzipped jeans, bare bodies pressed together, my cock buried just inside her? The thought sent a spike of panic through me, cold and sharp, cutting through the haze of heat and sensation.
But the panic was a tiny voice, easily drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears, the frantic hammering of my heart, the unbelievable, all-consuming sensation of her *cunt*. So tight. So hot. Gripping me, holding me, pulling me deeper even as I tried to stay still. Every tiny muscle in her twat seemed to pulse, squeezing, teasing, demanding more. It felt electric, vibrating with a raw, animal power I never knew existed. This intense physical reality, this raw, undeniable feeling of skin against skin, of hot, wet flesh molding around hard muscle, obliterated everything else. All the "shouldn'ts," all the "too youngs," melted away under the sheer, visceral truth of being *this* connected. We were here. Like this. And her cunt felt unreal. Amazing. Incredible.
Her hands were gripping the sofa now, knuckles white, but one hand slowly, cautiously, came up from the cushion and rested, trembling, on my hip.
Her fingers, tentative but firm, curled against the denim of my jeans pulled down at my hip. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental, a silent invitation, a raw permission. The slight pressure of her hand grounded me, tethering me to the moment, pulling me back from the edge of panicky thoughts. My cock, buried just the very tip in the wet heat of her cunt, throbbed with unbearable intensity. Her gripping muscles tightened again, a soft, insistent pulse around my glans. It wasn't enough. It was everything. It was agony and ecstasy, a raw, animal need that clawed at my insides. My mouth was dry, my body trembling, aching to surge forward.
Fighting the desperate urge to thrust, I shifted just slightly, rolling my hips forward another tiny fraction. It wasn't a plunge, just a shallow movement, nudging the tip fractionally further in, past the deepest fold of her outer lips, feeling them glide wetly over the expanding shaft of my cock.
"Oh!" A sharper gasp escaped Jenna, her grip on my hip tightening convulsively. Her breath hitched, a tiny, high-pitched sound. The damp velvet tightness around me squeezed harder, gripping my glans like a vise. I could feel the incredibly sensitive nub of her clit pressing against the underside of my dickhead, pulsing with sudden, focused sensation. Heat flooded me, hotter now, deeper. Her muscles were clenching and releasing, not rhythmically, but like tiny, involuntary pulses of intensity, grabbing at my embedded tip. The sweet, metallic scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling my nostrils, intoxicating. I leaned down slightly, needing to be closer, my forehead pressing against her damp hair as my hand tightened around my dick, steadying us, guiding me forward. Just this little bit. Just enough to feel the unbelievable reality of being *right there*. The soft resistance of her flesh giving way fractionally more, molding around my tip, holding me tight.
Her small hand, fingers lightly pressing into the fabric at my hip, was the spark. It wasn't a push away. It was... *permission*. Maybe not conscious, not spoken, but felt. Every muscle in my body screamed to surge forward, to bury myself in that insane heat and wetness that was already holding my dick's head so tight it felt like it would throb apart. Swallowing hard, tasting nothing but the dry air, I didn't thrust. Not yet. Just... leaned. Letting the weight of my torso, the force of my own frantic heartbeat, press me forward just a fraction. My hips rolled down, tilting my cock's trajectory towards the slit that felt like the center of the universe. A groan, low and raw, ripped from my own throat, mirroring the ragged gasps catching in hers. My dickhead, slick with its own urgency and her incredible wetness, pushed against the threshold. The outer lips, plump and unbelievably soft, seemed to stretch and yield, folding back under the pressure, revealing the darker, pinker inner flesh pressed tight together.
Then, a give. Not a sharp pop, but a slow, deliberate *stretch*. Like tight, wet rubber giving way. My glans, the sensitive tip, felt the distinct pressure as it pushed past the narrowest part of her opening. Her cunt walls closed down around the *widest* part of my head with an unbelievable, gripping intensity. "Nnngh!" Jenna cried out, sharp and involuntary, her hands on my hip gripping the denim like claws. Her small body tensed, arching into me even as she seemed to fight it, lifting her hips off the sofa just enough to embed my glans deeper, past the very edge of her outer lips, into the gripping embrace of her tighter, inner folds.
My cock was met by the most incredible, shocking tightness I could ever have imagined. It felt like trying to push something large and stiff into something small and wet that was already clenched shut around it. Her muscles squeezed around the head of my dick, milking the pre-cum from the shaft, holding me fast. The wetness seemed to pour out, covering my dickhead, slicking the entrance, but doing little to alleviate the raw, friction-filled sensation of stretching her impossibly tight cunt. It felt like the threshold was pushing back, clinging to me, holding me suspended right there, impaled just the head. The very tip of my dick was now past the point of no return, locked inside the unbelievably gripping velvet heat of her cunt.
Her small body, tight and rigid, didn't just tremble anymore. A different kind of instinct kicked in, something primal and raw. Her hands, still clutching my hip, tightened, pulling me closer. Then, with a raw gasp, "Ungh!" her hips hitched upward. Not a planned movement, not deliberate. It was a sudden, animalistic surge. Her small cunt tightened around my dickhead as her body lifted, dragging the impossibly tight, wet entrance higher onto my shaft. I groaned, involuntarily, a sound torn from my gut. My body responded before my brain caught up, instinctively pushing downwards as she lifted upwards. Slick, wet flesh stretched and gripped as my dick plunged deeper. Past the head, past the pulsing rim. It slid into a shocking furnace of heat and unbelievable tightness. Each millimeter was a fight, a raw friction that scraped against my sensitive shaft. Her hips arched higher, tilting back, impaling herself harder.
"Ohgod... Ahhhhh!" The sounds ripped from her, strained, breathless cries as my dick worked its way forward, stretching her, filling her. Tight, hot, wet. That was all. Raw sensation screaming through my body, silencing everything else. My balls clenched tight against my pelvis as my length buried itself deeper and deeper. It wasn't smooth. It was a raw, friction-filled glide, her muscles fighting and yielding at the same time, stretching around my thickness. The damp hair of her mound pressed against me as I drove deeper. Deeper. Past the curve of her hips, I was pressing into her core.
Her small body writhed, arched back against the cushions, legs parting wider now as I plunged forward. My dick slid through a heat and wetness that felt almost unbearable. Each push buried me deeper in that impossibly tight tunnel, past a resistance that yielded inch by grinding inch. Her hands were no longer gentle on my hip, but clawing, gripping, pulling me closer, burying me deeper inside her furnace.
My own body responded, driven by instinct and the searing, mind-numbing pleasure of stretching her, of being so tightly embedded in her pulsing heat. My hips began to move, a primal rhythm taking over. In and out. Ploughing deep into her unbelievably tight cunt. It gripped and clung, wet velvet molding around my hard shaft, milking sensation from every nerve ending. Slick, ragged sounds filled the room now. The *slap-slap* of my balls against her slick thighs, the wet *squish-squish* of my dick sliding in and out of her cunt. Her cries turned into breathless moans, broken and raw, as my body hammered against hers.
"Y-yeah... oh... YEAH!" Her legs, trembling violently, wrapped tighter around my waist, locking me to her, urging me deeper still. My gaze dropped to where we were joined, seeing my dick burying itself in the wet, stretching pink of her entrance, disappearing completely into her as I drove in, pulling out just enough to drive back in again, lost in the rhythm, lost in the raw, animal heat of it all. Her cunt lips were pulled back, wet and swollen, pressed tight against the base of my shaft with every thrust.
My hips were pistons now, a frantic, mindless rhythm driving me in and out of her. Each pull back was a desperate fight against her gripping muscles, each push forward a visceral act of filling her, stretching her, burying myself in her relentless heat. Her small body bounced against the sofa cushions, her back arched like a bowstring, legs wrapped around my waist, holding me tight, pressing her soaked cunt harder onto my pulsing shaft. The sounds filled the room — the wet squish of our bodies, her ragged moans, my own guttural groans.
My gaze flickered down, compelled by the raw, visceral truth of it. My dick, slick and thick, was burying itself in the stretched, pink entrance of her cunt, disappearing completely. The sight cut through the haze of lust with a single, sharp, undeniable thought: *This is it. We’re doing it.*
The bargain, the hesitations, "just the tip"—it was all a stupid, flimsy lie we’d told ourselves to get here. This wasn't a game or a compromise. This was sex. We were really having sex.
That sharp realization gave the frantic rhythm a final, desperate purpose. There was no pulling back now, no holding on. My body was no longer mine; it coiled with a singular, primal urge to finish this. Every plunge was now aimed at an ultimate, deeper destination. My mind emptied of everything but the overwhelming need to fill her, to pour all of this unbearable heat and pressure deep inside the very core of her that was gripping me so tightly. And I prepared for one final, deeper thrust that would finish what nature intended.