In Heat - Jenlisa

Chapter 68 - Limits

Days passed before Jennie realized it was perhaps atypical that she found it impossible to orgasm by herself.

It made sense, If Jennie hadn't had the exceptional fortune of sharing Lisa's heat, there is a genuine possibility she wouldn't have pursued sexual companionship at all.

Not since that tumultuous blood moon had anyone captured her interest like Lisa Manobal, with her bloodied teeth and tear-stained face. The very idea of someone holding a candle to Lisa after that was laughable, and if Jennie had wanted to fuck herself, she'd have done so long before Lisa planted the seed.

All in all, Jennie wasn't overly concerned when her first few attempts at masturbating ended without orgasm. No one goes from wholly inexperienced to master of their own pleasure without some trial and error. In any case, it would be ludicrous to assume Jennie could easily orgasm to pornography after experiencing Lisa Manobal in the flesh.

Tasting the finer things in life has an unfortunate side effect of souring cheap thrills, as she very well knows.

It had occurred to Jennie that she might have trouble orgasming in general, but not enough to seek medical attention. Not enough to ask the opinions of her closest confidantes—though Rosé undoubtedly would have had a good laugh at her expense before suggesting a range of treatment options, most likely beginning and ending with ramped-up psychotherapy. Admitting to Lisa that something may be missing in her, wrong with her, had been out of the question.

Jennie's ultimately glad she didn't create a fuss because the reality is that she is one wrong move away from coming all over Lisa's face atop a repurposed desk in the middle of a dusty dorm room—like a fiend.

While her thighs shake around Lisa's head, Jennie's mind whirls equally fast, cataloging the ease with which she's hurtling towards orgasm. The scientist in her is appalled at the difference between touching herself and enduring a veritable massacre of restraint at Lisa's hands. There's simply no comparison. Jennie's skin stings with heat, blood rushing to her temples as she does her damndest not to cry out.

Any worry she'd harbored over developing an orgasm complex is naught more than bones buried deep. Clearly, Jennie can orgasm just fine as long as Lisa's the one fucking her.

Lisa's teeth drag over her inner thigh, and when she pulls back, Jennie almost riots. How fitting that her pet could be so cruel in a moment of weakness. How apt that Jennie's first ever orgasm occurred in her bed, and now, she's about to experience another round laid out on a rickety desk.

When that doesn't garner the reaction she'd obviously been hoping for, Lisa snarls into her thigh, lips vibrating against Jennie's overheated skin. Her pet wants attention, does she? Jennie has to swallow back a hiss of her own. This close to an orgasm that's alluded her for so long, Jennie would have burned a new hell if not for the fullness of Lisa's finger sinking inside of her.

Suddenly, Jennie doesn't have the capacity for speech, let alone formulating arguments, and she's scrambling backward over the desk in a futile effort to escape what Lisa has chosen to inflict on her. This is the end, Jennie recognizes with a sense of impending doom. Any more of this, and she will come.

It irks her that she wasted so many hours masturbating when Lisa can unravel her to ruin with a snap—quite literally—of her pretty pink fingers.

Lisa's free hand clamps down on Jennie's hip, holding her in place as she licks and sucks and snarls, and when her finger curls inside of Jennie, all hope of withstanding this onslaught with dignity dies a humiliatingly noisy death. She does not go quietly. She does not go in peace.

When orgasm finds Jennie, it takes her with a scream.

***

Lisa can sense that Jennie is close.