His Nasty Little Pussy

JUSTIN

I let out a groan and drop my head back to the weight bench. There’s no way in hell this arrangement is going to work. I just can’t be around her. Plain and simple. I’ll just tell her that she needs to leave. Easy, right? I’ll be super nice about it so it doesn’t hurt her feelings, and I’ll tell her that it just isn’t working out. My ankle isn’t holding me back all that much anymore. It’s just a pain in the ass, but I can work around that.

Once I’ve made up my mind, I grab my crutches and head for the shower. With my leg all wrapped up in plastic, I manage a hasty shower and a quick masturbation session. The memory of watching Savanna lick her own fingers clean is too vivid in my mind to not do anything about it, but my hand on my cock feels more mechanical than anything else. It’s just a means to a much-needed end, but I wouldn’t classify it as being enjoyable.

Nothing feels good enough anymore. I want Savanna’s hand on my cock, her mouth around it, and her wet, tight pussy clenched around it. Everything else is just a sad imitation that leaves me feeling depressed and wanting more.

The sooner I get her out of this house, the better.

Deep down I know that’s a load of shit, but I tell that part of my brain to shut the hell up as I dry off and throw on some clothes. When I open the door, I’m hit with the mouthwatering smell of something delicious cooking.

Curious, I follow the smell and stop when I see Savanna out on the deck off the kitchen, grilling a couple of steaks like a pro. She’s so fucking sexy. My brain freezes a bit every time I see her. Her body looks amazing in the tank top and little jean shorts she’s wearing, and I can’t help but remember how good her body had felt against mine that morning, how perfectly she’d fit me. I also remember how fucking amazing she’d tasted, and knowing that I’m the only person to ever kiss her makes me happier than I care to admit. It also makes my cock come roaring back to life.

I can’t have her I remind myself. My cock tells me to fuck off by growing a bit more, but the rational part of my brain is congratulating me on being such a mature adult about all of this. It doesn’t make me feel any better.

Savanna turns around and gives me a big smile before taking off the steaks and coming back into the kitchen.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she says with a wink.

God, yes, I am.

I watch as she flits around the kitchen, looking completely comfortable and at ease. She looks like she belongs here. For the briefest of moments, I let myself think about how amazing it would be to have Savanna here as mine, as my wife, as the mother of my children. Fully and completely mine.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

The ache of wanting it is almost too much to bear. I shove it from my mind, reminding myself that I need to ask her to leave. But as I watch her stirring something on the stove while she hums a little tune to herself and see the way her eyes light up when she turns to look at me, I just can’t do it.

Instead, I sit at the table and say, “It smells amazing, Savanna. Thanks for cooking.”

“I hope you like it,” she says, and I can hear the excitement in her voice.

I’m touched that she’s gone through all this trouble just for me, and I’m also impressed. I knew she liked to cook, but I hadn’t realized she was quite so good at it. The plate she sets before me looks better than anything I’ve ever had in a restaurant, and I tell her so. She beams with pride and watches as I take my first bite of steak, waiting to see if I’ll like it. I do. She’s managed to not overcook it, and whatever the hell she marinated it in has made it tender and juicy, and I want to ask her to marry me right on the spot.

She laughs when she sees my obvious delight and then digs into her own plate. Savanna’s body is to die for, but she doesn’t starve herself. I’ve always loved her voracious appetite and watching her eat is nothing short of a sexual experience. She closes her eyes and moans around forkfuls of steak and potatoes, savoring every bite. Once, when she opens her eyes, she catches me watching her, and I notice a light blush travel up her neck and face, making me want to bend her over the table right then and there.

That rational part of my brain is asking me what the fuck happened to our plan, but my cock and heart are clearly winning this battle, so he slinks off to wherever the hell rational parts of the brain go when not in use.

When both our plates are empty, I reach down to grab a crutch and start to carry my plate to the sink.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I set the crutch against the counter and grab a sponge.

“I’m doing the dishes.”

“No, I’ll do them,” she says, jumping up to stand next to me. “You should rest.”

“Savanna, there’s no way in hell I’m going to sit on my ass and watch you clean all this mess. You’ve already done more than enough by cooking me the best meal I’ve ever tasted.”

Refusing to budge, she says, “Well I’ll help then,” and begins gathering up all the used dishes.

We work in a comfortable rhythm together, and soon the kitchen is spotless and the dishwasher quietly humming in the background.

Before I can try and think of some excuse to go back to my room before I end up doing something we both might regret, she says, “Do you mind if I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?”

It takes my sex-hungry brain a second to switch gears. “Sure,” I finally say, trying very hard to not picture her beautiful naked body underneath one of my shirts.