Mary Jane goes back

Tears streamed down MJ’s face as she dressed and began her walk of shame back to her cabin. She felt like the world had turned grey as it hit her how hard she had fallen for the skinny young man. It was unnatural. She couldn’t get the look on his face as he pulled out and left. It wasn’t the anger written on his face she fretted over; it was the pain. She had hurt him deeply. She wished she had his phone number, to contact him and let him know she had made a mistake, to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness. At least that was her first thought.

As she snuck back into her cabin, it didn’t even register to her as she grabbed some clothes that Peter, her husband, was curled up in their bed, tears streaming down his face, as he thrashed around in agony; awash in his own nightmare, his eyelids open but showing only black.

Staring in the mirror, MJ let the water heat up as she touched her neck, feeling the hickies, memories of Craig's hasty, sloppy and immature attempts at love-making. He was a good, no, a great fuck and he had a cute side, but he really didn't know how to please her outside of his giant cock. Perhaps her comment this morning was accurate.

She loved his cock, she liked him and had feelings for him, but in the light of the day, she didn't love him. She knew she had to do some deep soul searching on how to deal with him and her husband; not to mention Katzenberg. She felt a slight stirring in her loins as she thought of how he had taken her and made her scream. If she had to classify it, Peter was love, Craig was someone to fuck, and Katzenberg was someone who fucked her.

Jumping in the shower, MJ washed her entire body in under a few minutes. She let the water run off her for a much longer time. The hotter the water got on her skin the angrier she got at Craig. Why was Craig being such a whiny little bitch about a misplaced word, well misplaced in his mind. Sure, maybe she should apologize, but she was Mary fucking Jane. Runway model, men chased her, she didn’t just throw it to anyone, especially after she had been married. Craig was a druggy loser with a nice cock, she would show him. She had Peter and if she wasn’t satisfied with him, she could find some side cock somewhere. Craig was too addictive, well his cock was, fuck.

Opening the door to the shower and blindly groping for a towel MJ felt a hand grab her wrist and twist her arm behind her back, bending her at the waist slightly. With a yelp, MJ felt what she could only describe as a bar of hot steel shove against her exposed sex.