Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't.

Maybe it's your brain trying to block the **** shame you're feeling, maybe that orgasm was so strong you blacked out.

Whatever the truth, you're now naked, in your own bed, still covered in the sweat of the work day, with the added exertion of sex, the musk of a male suitor and, yes, the unmistakable smell of sperm. You're drenched in human secretions. Your pussy is filled with cum and dripping, your lips taste of it. You can feel it snaking on your nose and down your cheek. The asshole came inside you, and non content to fill you up, he finished himself on your face. You can feel the drops that connect your pussy and your mouth, tracing a line across your belly and your breasts.

As you come to your senses, he walks back in. Showered, dressed, dashing, and, finally, spent.

"Well, you don' have to thank me, babe. I'll always be there for you if you need to be reminded just how lacking that cuck of yours is. Oh, and your stuff's in the living room. I figured you wouldn't care much for a walk downstairs with that special makeup. You little slut."

He blows you a kiss filled with irony and disappears away. Oh, Lord. You're close to tears. He's such an asshole and you made such a mess of, well, everything.

And what was that word again? Cuck. He's right. You just made your adorable penguin of a boyfriend a cuckold. And you enjoyed it. And, in your heart, deep within, you know he somehow deserved it, because it is true. It's is horrifyingly true. You're a slut. He chose a slut. And he doesn't have the brawn, the stamina, the tools to satisfy you as Brad does. As humiliating as it is, it is true. You hate Brad for treating you like a slut. You hate Jake for allowing this to happen with his absence, with his lack of manliness, with his nerdiness. But, more than anything, you hate yourself for being weak, for being a slut, for letting a male overpower you.