Disabled Man but the kingmaker
This story is so real. I want all the nymphomaniac bitches who try their cheap ways and the bastards with fake accounts. If you try genuinely, I’m sure you will get the right partner. This story is about the kingmaker of the state’s rule. Today, Vasant is the kingmaker. He decides which party should rule. You all should know how it all started. The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room. Its rhythmic whirring is a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing between Vasant and Damini. The guest house was luxurious, with every detail meticulously chosen, from the plush velvet couch to the abstract art on the walls. Yet, none of it mattered to Vasant. All he could see was her. The way her lips curled into that teasing smile. Her eyes burned with a mix of determination and desire. “Vasant,” Damini said, her voice low and smooth like velvet dragging against bare skin. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. Why?” He shifted uncomfortably, his right leg aching faintly beneath him. The old wound was a reminder of the barrier he’d built between himself and the world. But with her, it felt different. She didn’t see him as broken. She saw him as… something else. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to be. “I’m not avoiding you,” he lied, his voice steady but his heart racing. “I’ve just been busy.” “Busy?” She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. “Busy ignoring my calls? Busy pretending you don’t feel the same way I do?” He looked away, his gaze landing on the large window across the room. The sun was setting outside, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. He could feel her presence like a magnetic pull, drawing him in despite his best efforts to resist. “I told you,” he said, his voice firmer now. “This… this can’t happen. Your father—” “My father doesn’t own me,” Damini interrupted, her tone sharp. “And he doesn’t get to decide who I love.” Vasant’s chest tightened at the word. Love. It felt too heavy, too dangerous. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. “This isn’t just about you, Damini. It’s about me. About everything, I’m not.” She closed the gap between them in two quick strides, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Her touch was warm and grounding. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Stop,” she whispered, her breath tickling his lips. “Stop acting like you’re someone I need to be protected from. You’re not broken, Vasant. You’re perfect.” He wanted to argue, to push her away, but the way she looked at him—like he was the only thing in the world that mattered—made it impossible. His defences crumbled, piece by piece, until nothing was left but the raw, unfiltered truth. “Damini,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “I can’t give you what you deserve.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “Let me be the judge of that.” And then she kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was fierce, hungry like she’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain it anymore. Her lips moved against his with a desperation that mirrored his own. Her hands tangled in his hair to pull him closer. Vasant felt himself melting into her. His resolve dissolved with every brush of her tongue against his. He couldn’t think, breathe, or do anything but feel. And oh, how he felt. It was as if every nerve in his body had come alive, sparking with electricity at her touch. When she pulled back, his chest was heaving, his heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. “Don’t you see?” she murmured, her forehead resting against his. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. You. All of you.” He didn’t have the words to respond. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands sliding down her back to pull her flush against him. She gasped, her eyes widening slightly, but didn’t pull away. “Vasant,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need you. All of you.” He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with doubts and fears. But then she kissed him again, and all those thoughts disappeared. She led him to the dining table, her hands never leaving his. When she pushed him down onto the edge of the table, he didn’t resist. He watched, transfixed, as she knelt before him, her eyes locked on his. She slowly, deliberately unzipped his pants. “Damini,” he said, his voice shaky. “You don’t have to—” “Yes, I do,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.” And then her lips were on him, hot and wet, and any protests he might have had evaporated into thin air. His head fell back, a low groan escaping his throat as she took him deep into her mouth, her tongue swirling around him in a way that made his toes curl. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support. “Damini, you’re—ah—you’re going to kill me.” She pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m just getting started.” She continued her ministrations, her mouth moving with a skill that left him breathless. He’d never felt anything like this before, every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. It wasn’t long before he was teetering on the edge, his entire body coiled tight like a spring. “Wait,” he gasped, his hand tangling in her hair to gently pull her away. “I don’t want to—not yet.” She smiled, standing up and pulling him to his feet. “Then it’s my turn.” She walked backwards toward the bed, her fingers tugging at the hem of her dress. By the time she reached the edge of the bed, the fabric was pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra and panties.