Lost

Trish kicks you to the floor, screaming something about your whore mouth and your slutty body that you share around with everyone....

You feel yourself getting fucked and fucked. It feels like someone or perhaps a large number of someones have been pounding your vag till it feels numb...

There's Trish again, throwing a bucket of water over you. Oh wait, no, that's a bucket of cum...

Finally you jerk awake, looking around wild eyed. All a dream. All a fucked up dream! It takes a few seconds for you to process it all. You're in a small but cozy looking room, not that much larger than the bed you're on. And there's a big hunky arm wrapped around your waist. Henry. Looks like he's still asleep, but unlike you his dreams have to be good ones. When you note the very stiff pole poking against your bum you decide they have to be really good dreams.

Feeling a man getting turned on from being near your body makes you think of Trish, but that just leads to a whole spiral of strange feelings. You haven't a clue about what you should do, how you should feel, whether you should be furious with her for not trusting you or furious with yourself for actually listening to that vile bitch.

You look back at Henry's smiling face and wonder what the hell you're supposed to feel about him. He certainly seems to like you. He reacted way better to the idea that someone tricked him into knocking you up than expected. He even seemed half-way happy that he was going to be a father. Against your better judgement you let your muscles relax, allowing your ass to press back against his manhood once again. Yeah, no doubt, he seems to like me. But I can't, right? I'm still with Trish... right?

Soon enough you're **** to get up and find the washroom. Stupid stupid bladder. Sigh. Luckily you remember to grab your purse on the way out of the room so that once you're in the washroom you can take care of your appearance. Crying, rain, more crying... it really didn't do much for your looks. Plus, putting on makeup and dealing with your hair has become kind of meditative. For a good half an hour, as you tease out tangles and apply new eyeliner, you try to work out what to do about your girlfriend, who's kind of also a boyfriend, and the man who managed to knock you up at a distance.

You don't really deserve all the shit and **** Trish has throw your way, but with that video, those comments, can you blame her? And how could you convince her of the truth?

Henry... you don't really know him, but he seems nice. He didn't need to take care of you like that with the towel and food. He didn't need to let you stay the night, although from what you remember you kind of fainted on him. He seemed kind of happy or at least not unhappy about being a father. He's not as over the moon as Trish was...

Damn, damn, okay - don't work on the makeup until you've figured this out. Otherwise you're just wasting makeup. That Trish bought you when she loved you. Bwahh!

It takes a good long time for you to work your way through all the craziness, all the emotions. You spend a lot of time crying and then cursing at how weak you've become. At long last you feel good enough - no, that's not it. You don't feel good, you feel stable enough to apply that makeup and head back to the bedroom. You find Henry still lying there, sleeping peacefully. You've come up with a plan, an idea or at least a direction.