Self Depreciation!

Sleep finally claimed her, her breathing evening out into soft rhythms. I lingered a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips parted slightly. Reluctantly, I eased away, pulling the door shut behind me. Back in my room, I stripped down and collapsed into bed, but sleep didn't come easy.

My mind replayed the night—her tantrum, her sulk, that bulge pressing insistently. I palmed my cock, stroking slowly to the image of her under me, but stopped short, guilt winning out. The house felt smaller, charged with our shared secrets, the attraction simmering like a live wire.

Morning light filtered through the curtains when I woke, the scent of coffee pulling me to the kitchen. Georgia was already there, pouring a mug, her hair tousled but her posture straight, no sign of last night's wine haze. She turned as I entered, her eyes soft and apologetic, green depths holding a warmth that twisted something in my chest.

She was in a loose tank top and shorts, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at her toned body, her futanari traits subtly outlined in the morning light.

'Hey,' she said quietly, setting the pot down. 'About last night... I'm sorry. I was a mess, and you handled it right. Didn't push, didn't take advantage. Thanks for that.' Her voice carried genuine regret, mixed with that emotional vulnerability that made her seem both strong and breakable.

She stepped closer, handing me a mug, our fingers brushing—a spark that reignited the tension instantly.

I took a sip, the hot liquid grounding me as I met her gaze. 'Did I?' I joked, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the heat building low in my belly. 'Felt more like I was wrangling a wildcat. But yeah, maybe I did.' The words came out lighter than I felt, but inside, the craving surged—imagining her body beneath mine on that kitchen counter, her cock hard and leaking as I thrust into her, breaking every rule for the sake of that forbidden rush.

She laughed softly, the sound easing the air between us, but her eyes lingered on my mouth, on my chest, the sexual tension thick and unspoken. We stood there, mugs in hand, the house sharing our secrets, the day stretching out with possibilities that pulled us closer to the edge.

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