A Good Day for Pretending

He was truly a bad influence on her, talking her into using long built up emergency leave for a week of hedonism. She had never blown more than a day of work in a row with some fake excuse and she could count on one hand the times she'd ever done that. It was hard to regret it while his hard shaft was rammed into her fully, stroking her in ways she had thought were the stuff of myth. He was good at everything he put his mind to and he'd obviously spent copious amounts of time pondering the art of sexual intercourse.

He was also a hell of a cook, she'd heard, but never fathomed the extent and was all too happy to allow him to serve his world class crepes and waffles to himself using her as the plate. She had always wanted to have him take her from behind over his desk, her kitchen table turned out to be a fine substitute. He licked every inch of her back in the process, her ass cheeks, her thighs. Kissed and nibbled the backs of her knees. Pulled her, from her position laid out on the middle of the table, until her feet hit the ground. Pounded her with his expert prick until she screamed. Pulling out — 'condoms were so yesterday' — he sprayed her ass with his release. Finally, ordering her off to the shower, him trailing in his uneven gate, pinching her playfully as they went and finally back to bed for a refuel nap.

The afternoon light coaxed them from their naked slumber. He was behind her, holding her to his chest in a way she'd never expect of him. His hand trailed slowly up her body and brushed her damp hair away from her neck and his beard began to tickle her in a way that she was fast becoming addicted to. "Middle aged men are not supposed to have all day sex fests. You must have been sporting a permanent hard-on as a teenager."

"I'm not hard now."

"But you…"

"Like nibbling on you. Yes. I like making you come. If I get lucky and get another hard-on great, otherwise I'll just embrace a little lesbian role play."

Just when she was sure that there was no way in hell any of this could really be real, because 'What guy ever says that?', her phone rings.

Softly, he demands she "Leave it." Grabbing her arm as she picks up the offending device from her nightstand.

"I'm expecting a call. I should take it," she explained.

He bartered as he let her arm loose. "Fine. Take it while sitting on my face at least."

"Hello…" she answered as she rolled her eyes and scooted away from him. She listened to the report from her MRI with mixed feelings. "Yeah. So no anomalies? Nothing that might cause abnormal or risk-taking behavior?" Not to be deterred, House disappeared beneath the sheets and his mouth found its way to her pussy. She wanted to protest, but his tongue was far too talented to push away.

Her breathing started to deepen as she ended the call. "Thanks, Harry. I owe you one. Later."

"Fuck. Hou… Don… that is… oh yeah, that's it, right there. No doubt you have a medical degree... " She tossed the phone to the side and grabbed the sheets as she came. House licked his way back up her body and planted a sloppy wet kiss on her lips as he rubbed his half hardened cock against her thigh.

"I think that Little Don is a fan of lesbian porn."

"Must be." She gathered his precum on her palm and began to stroke him. Still in wonder of his abilities. "I think it's hot too. Who doesn't get off on pussy eating?"

His fingers slid inside her wet folds. Once his index and middle fingers were coated in her juice, he pulled his fingers from her and started to place them in her willing mouth before pulling them away and sucking them into his own. She raised an eyebrow at his maneuver. After a final lick, he asked: "Have you ever gotten off eating pussy, Cameron?"

Just to fuck with him for denying her one of her favorite activities, she avoided answering. "You know, I have a first name, Don." But didn't stop stroking and encouraging his cock.

"Okay, Allison, don't avoid the question. I know you like licking pussy juice off my face and my fingers. Do you like licking pussy juice off of a pussy?"

"I've had a threesome twice." His eyes widened at her admission. "I enjoyed the pussy eating part both times."

"Please tell me at least one of those times was with Thirteen."

"Okay. At least one of those times was with Thirteen."

With that lie, she'd made him rock hard and he was inside her again a second later, his head buried in her neckline. She was beginning to believe he was purposely avoiding eye contact during sex. The off times they would catch one another's look, it practically burned and their eyes would close or dart away. She was as reluctant as he was to make the encounters any more intense and certainly no more intimate. Whatever this was, it couldn't last, so best to enjoy it for what it was and not get entangled.

She flipped him over, turned herself and rode him reverse cowgirl. Grabbing his ankles she undulated her pelvis taking him in and out at languid pace. He sat up and pulled her to him, so he could latch onto her neck and leave his mark yet again. She had no idea how she'd cover them all when she had to return to work, but she wanted them all the same. He pinched her nipple and she gasped. His fingers found her clit and she moaned. Making love to him had consumed her. It felt like what she was born to do.

She wanted him to come inside her, but for once she didn't cave into her baser wants. She was learning his body and could feel his cock getting tighter. "You're close aren't you?"

"Yeah. God, I love how this feels. Being inside you like this. Oh… Allison... "

"Mmm, I want to finish you with my mouth, Greg. Would you like that?"

"Fuck yes, woman! And it's still Don." He pushed her up and she turned around quickly, sucking his wet dick into her mouth. She loved tasting herself on him. Loved the combined flavor of his precum mixed with hers. He was big, and she couldn't take it all in, but she came close and that made him come hard into her throat. His grunt was entirely satisfying. She nearly gagged, but managed, thanks to pride, to swallow every drop and then licked him clean.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but how could she? It would be pointless and only hurt them both more.

She crawled back up his body and collapsed on his chest. Both of them exhausted. He played with her hair, and she nearly cried. She had to get her mind off the feelings that were threatening to overtake her.

"So, it seems you are real after all," she joked.

"It took swallowing my load for you to figure that out?" He replied without missing a beat; his fingers still gently running through her golden locks.

"Nope. The call. My MRI results. I had a scan. I was afraid something was causing me to lose my connection with reality. The whole messaging thing. The sexting. I wasn't sure it was real. Actually, I'm a complete mess."

Her tears could no longer be restrained. He held her to his chest and kissed her head as she cried it out. "Hey, I know. That's part of why I came. I could tell you needed me."

It was only the second time in all the time she'd known House that he'd shown concern for her like another normal human being. The first time, she'd helped a man take his own life. Now she wasn't sure she could continue living the life she had.

"I drink. A lot. I get anywhere from drunk to wasted every night except the night I have Greg. Ray is determined to cut me out of the picture completely. He's just waiting for an angle his prick lawyers can use to take the last of my time away. I pick up random men a couple of times a month and fuck them at their place or cheap hotel rooms, or bar bathrooms just so I can get off from human contact. I throw myself into work because that's the one thing I have some sort of control over. I'm tired and alone and miserable and I don't even have one real friend to talk to about it. That's why I started writing you. I, for whatever reason, could always talk to you. You grounded me, somehow. I know it's crazy, but you did."

"Shh. I'm here now. We'll get you through this. If I could turn things around, you can. You're not half as fucked up as me. Not yet anyway. And you're way prettier."

He made her laugh. He always could. She wanted to ask him a million questions like "What are you trying to accomplish here? Why are you here when this, whatever this is, can't work?" But she couldn't ask. Not then, anyway. He said he'd be here until Friday. She would just pretend until then that they were a normal couple in their first week of honeymoon bliss. Friday could be the day of explanation. Monday was a good day for pretending this thing was something she could have.