Post coital bliss?

Meg's eyelids fluttered open, her vision slowly coming into focus. Confusion clouded her mind as she took in unfamiliar surroundings. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of a computer screen. Posters and figurines of scantily-clad anime girls adorned every available surface.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her brain. Her body felt heavy, muscles aching in places she didn't know could ache. The air was thick with the musky scent of sweat and sex.

Meg's gaze fell on the figure beside her - a doughy, pale man snoring softly. His greasy hair clung to his forehead, his round face dotted with angry red acne. She frowned, struggling to place him in her memory.

Instinctively, Meg's hand drifted between her legs. Her fingers came away sticky and wet. She stared at the milky fluid coating her fingertips, and suddenly everything came rushing back.

Meg's mind reeled as fragments of memory began to coalesce. She recalled entering this cluttered room, her nose wrinkling at the stale odor. Jeffrey had seemed so nervous, his pudgy hands trembling as he offered her the box of condoms.

She struggled to reconcile the passionate encounter with the snoring figure beside her. How had this basement-dwelling bitch, this greasy-haired, acne-faced boy, reduced her to a quivering mess? Meg used to prided herself on her standards. Yet here she was, sticky and sore, in a stranger's dirty matress on the ground.

Flashes of their coupling played through her mind, Meg's fingers ghosted over the marks on her hips, evidence of Jeffrey's bruising grip. The slight pain sent a shiver down her spine, a echo of the pleasure she'd felt.

Jeffrey stirred beside her, his eyes blinking open groggily. He yawned and stretched, wincing slightly as his muscles protested the movement. The intense session had clearly taken its toll on him as well.

He rolled onto his side, facing Meg. His blue eyes, usually dull, held a hint of post-coital warmth as they focused on her face. Jeffrey's brow furrowed as he took in Meg's pensive expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep and concern.

Meg started slightly, not having noticed when his snoring had ceased. "N-nothing," she stammered, averting her gaze.

Jeffrey propped himself up on one elbow, his doughy stomach folding into soft rolls. "Are you sure?" he pressed, worry evident in his tone. "Did I... did I do something wrong?"

Meg hesitated, unsure how to respond. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the lewd posters and figurines that seemed to stare back at her accusingly. A half-empty bag of cheese puffs lay discarded on the cluttered desk, alongside several empty energy drink cans.

Meg's eyes flitted nervously around the room, unable to settle on any one thing. The garish colors of anime posters seemed to mock her with their exaggerated proportions. A half-eaten pizza congealed on a paper plate, perched precariously atop a stack of manga. The air was thick with the mingled scents of stale food, sweat, and sex.

Jeffrey shifted uncomfortably, the mattress creaking beneath his bulk. His eyes, wide with concern, searched Meg's face. She could see the insecurity blooming there, threatening to overtake the post-coital glow.

"M-Meg?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "P-please, tell me, what's wrong? Do you n-need something?" His fingers twitched nervously, plucking at a loose thread on the rumpled sheets. "Please... talk to me."

Meg sighed deeply, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She placed one hand delicately in the center of her chest, fingers splayed as if to calm her racing heart. Her other hand toyed absently with a strand of her chestnut hair, twirling it around her finger as she struggled to find the right words.

"Nothing's wrong," she began slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. She paused, taking a steadying breath before continuing. "It's just... God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." Meg paused, her teeth grazing her lower lip. Her vibrant green eyes met Jeffrey's, a hint of wonder shining in their depths. "That was... that was the best sex of my life."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Jeffrey's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock. Meg felt a blush creep up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink.

Jeffrey's face transformed, his features lighting up with unbridled joy. His blue sparkled, a stark. A wide grin spread across his round face, momentarily erasing the angry red acne that dotted his skin.

"R-really?" he stammered, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "You mean it?"

Meg nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I do," she confirmed softly. "I've never felt anything that intense before."

Jeffrey flopped back onto the mattress, his arms spread wide. His chest heaved with elated breaths, a look of pure bliss etched across his features.

"Wow," he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. "Wow, wow, wow."

Meg sighed deeply, her mind awash with conflicting emotions. As she watched Jeffrey's face light up with unbridled joy, a strange mix of affection and trepidation welled up inside her. His boyish enthusiasm was endearing, yet it sparked a flicker of concern in the back of her mind.

Her gaze wandered over his doughy form. If he could reduce her to a quivering, pleasure-drunk mess in his current state of insecurity, what might he be capable of with a boost of confidence? The thought sent a shiver down her spine - equal parts excitement and apprehension.

The way he'd growled about impregnating her, the forceful way he'd filled her again and again... It had been intoxicating in the moment, but now it gave her pause. If he truly believed he'd given her the best sex of her life, would that embolden him? Make him even more determined to claim her, to mark her as his?

Meg's heart raced as she contemplated the precarious situation. Every encounter with Jeffrey would be like walking a tightrope, balancing intense pleasure against potentially life-altering consequences. His unbridled enthusiasm and disregard for the future made him a dangerous partner. Each encounter would be a delicate dance, balancing ecstasy with consequence.

This boy - this man-child really - touched places inside her, both physically and emotionally, that she hadn't known existed. But therein lay the danger. Jeffrey seemed to have no concept of consequences. His only goal appeared to be the pursuit of pleasure, living solely in the moment with no thought for the future. His fervent cries about impregnating her echoed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine.

Meg, on the other hand, had her whole life ahead of her. Her career aspirations, her dreams of becoming a lawyer - all of it hung in the balance. One careless moment, one burst of unprotected passion, could derail everything she'd worked so hard for.

She thought of her pristine office at McCarthy & Associates, the crisp suits hanging in her closet, the respect she'd earned from her colleagues. How quickly it could all crumble if she let herself be carried away by the intoxicating pleasure.

She had worked so hard to get where she was professionally. Just a few weeks ago, she'd successfully handled her first major case. Her meticulously organized office, the framed law degree hanging proudly on the wall. The respect she'd earned from her colleagues, the way clients' eyes lit up with trust when she explained their cases. It had taken years of dedication to build that reputation, to prove herself as more than just a pretty face.

If word got out about her liaisons with Jeffrey, it would all come crashing down. She could picture the scandalized whispers, the sidelong glances. The pity in James McCarthy's eyes as he explained they could no longer keep her on. Her promising career, snuffed out before it truly began.

All for what? Moments of mind-blowing pleasure with a basement-dwelling pervert? Meg's fingers ghosted over the marks on her hips, remembering Jeffrey's bruising grip. The way he'd filled her so completely, reducing her to a quivering mess of sensation.

A small smile played at the corners of her lips. The risk... that was part of the thrill, wasn't it? The danger of discovery, of consequences, made each encounter electric. It was the stark contrast between her polished professional life and these raw, primal moments that set her blood on fire.

Meg's eyes traced Jeffrey's form, taking in every imperfection. His doughy belly hung over the waistband of his stained boxers. Angry red acne dotted his pale, sweaty skin. Greasy hair clung to his forehead in limp strands. By any objective measure, he was far from attractive.

And yet...

Her body tingled with remembered pleasure, muscles still deliciously sore from their passionate encounter.

Who would willingly bed such an unappealing specimen? Meg's lips curled into a wry smile as she answered her own question: I would. Oh fuck, I would I would I would I would.

Meg hesitated for a moment, then slowly shifted closer to Jeffrey on the mattress. She pressed her lithe body against his soft, doughy form, molding herself to his curves. As she settled in beside him, Meg draped one toned arm across Jeffrey's ample midsection. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, his belly expanding with each inhale. The fine hairs on his stomach tickled her forearm as she nestled closer.

Jeffrey's arm came up to wrap around Meg's shoulders, pulling her tighter against him. His fingers traced lazy circles on her upper arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Meg rested her head on his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing rhythm beneath her ear.

Jeffrey turned his head to look at her, a huge grin spreading across his round face. His eyes crinkled at the corners, nearly disappearing into the folds of his cheeks. Yellowed, crooked teeth peeked out from behind chapped lips.

Oh what the hell, Meg thought to herself, even his smile is hideous.