Latest sex stories about Hypersensitive Emma – added for who looking to read new experience of teenager narrative Hypersensitive Emma – story.
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#Exhibitionist #Zoophilia
By HanSolo
Emma has hypersensitive sex organs, she is triggered by the slightest of vibrations or friction in her privates. Today changed everything…
The morning sun had barely crept through my curtains when I felt the first stirrings of my condition. I woke up already on edge, my body primed for sensations I couldn’t control. Rolling over in bed, the mere friction of the sheets against my skin sent a ripple of pleasure through me, a soft moan escaping before I even opened my eyes.
I decided to forgo underwear, choosing only a loose dress to minimize any contact with sensitive areas. Breakfast was a quiet affair, my senses already heightened, every movement of my body a potential trigger. Even the simple act of sitting down at the kitchen table was fraught with tension, the chair’s surface threatening to ignite another climax.
Work was the usual minefield. I navigated the office with caution, avoiding too much contact, sitting at the back during meetings to reduce the risk of accidental stimulation. Yet, there was that one moment when I leaned over to pick up a pen, the fabric of my dress brushing against me in just the wrong – or right – way. A shiver ran down my spine, my breath catching. I quickly sat back down, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, hoping no one noticed my brief moment of ecstasy.
Lunch was a brief escape. I sat in the park, the breeze a welcome distraction. But even there, the wood of the bench felt too close, too intimate. I shifted, trying to find a position that wouldn’t betray me, but the day was relentless.
The train ride home was where my control was truly tested. I found a seat, my heart pounding with dread and anticipation. Across from me sat a teenage boy, his eyes occasionally flicking up from his phone to observe the world around him. I tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the vibrations of the train were relentless. It started with a subtle warmth spreading through my body, a familiar warning. I clenched my fists, my breath hitching as I felt the first waves of an orgasm building.
I was losing the battle. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal, the dual sensations fighting within me. I tried to think of anything mundane, anything to distract from the inevitable. But the moment I looked up, I caught his gaze. He was watching me, confusion and then realization dawning on his face as he noticed my struggle.
The intensity of his stare, the public setting, it all compounded, pushing me over the edge. There was no stopping it now. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle any sound, but my body betrayed me. I felt the orgasm crash through me, my muscles tensing, my breath coming in short gasps.
Then I saw it – a noticeable bulge in his trousers, he was erect! The sight sent another wave through me, part shame, part thrill. It was a perverse cycle; the more I tried to suppress my reactions, the more intense they became because of the situation. The thought that he might go home and think of this moment, maybe even masturbate because of it, was both mortifying and exhilarating.
That train ride felt endless, each stop a countdown to my escape. When I finally disembarked, the cool air was a relief, but the memory lingered, a mix of humiliation and a dark thrill.
Back home, I wanted peace. I changed into my t-shirt nightie, the freedom of no underwear a small relief. I decided to watch TV on the sofa, seeking normalcy. But as I sat down, the fabric of the sofa grazed my bare skin, igniting an immediate, intense orgasm.
I grabbed the sofa, trying to push forward to escape the stimulation, but my movement only worsened it, my hips grinding against the material. My yelps of pleasure and surprise echoed, and Max, misinterpreting the sounds, bounded over, eager for play.
His enthusiasm was my undoing. Jumping onto the sofa, he knocked me back, my head against the cushion, my body at an angle with my backside off the edge, Max stood between my legs.
As Max tried to lick my face and play, he stretched to his full length, his warm sheath inadvertently brushing against my most sensitive spot. That accidental touch was like igniting a fuse; it set off an explosion of sensations, one orgasm bleeding into the next, rendering me powerless. I tried to push him away, but my arms felt like jelly, my resolve melting under the relentless tide of pleasure.
Lust was clouding my mind, weakening my protests as my body responded to the stimulation with an intensity I couldn’t control. Max, feeling my wetness, reacted on instinct, his own body responding to the primal cues. It wasn’t his fault; he was just following the signals my body was helplessly broadcasting.
Then, in what felt like my worst nightmare, it happened. His hips bucked, and there was a moment of penetration that sent shockwaves through me. My mind screamed for this to stop, but my body was in a state of ecstasy, unable to distinguish between right and wrong, desire and decorum.
For the next five to ten minutes, I was trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and physical sensations. Each thrust from Max only intensified my situation, sending me into deeper spirals of pleasure. I was lost, uncertain how to react, the line between human control and animal instinct blurring in a haze of carnal delight.
Then came the moment I feared yet, in some dark corner of my mind, anticipated – Max knotted with me. The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced, a mix of pain, pleasure, and an overwhelming fullness that pushed me to the brink of sanity. When he ejaculated, it was like an electric current running through me, each pulse sending me into a new level of orgasmic insanity.
I lay there, my mind a mess of guilt, pleasure, and confusion. The physical connection was undeniable, the psychological turmoil equally so. As the knot eventually subsided, allowing Max to finally disengage, I was left in a state of shock, my body still tingling, my mind racing to process what had just occurred.
I knew this was not Max’s fault; he was driven by instinctual responses. But for me, this was a moment of profound loss of control, a merging of the boundaries I had so carefully maintained. The aftermath was a silent battle within – between the part of me that felt violated and the part that had reveled in the forbidden pleasure.
As I lay there, coming down from the height of my physical and emotional upheaval, I knew I’d remember this night forever, a stark reminder of my condition’s power over me, of the thin line between control and chaos, and the deep, dark well of my own desires.
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By HanSolo
#Exhibitionist #Zoophilia
