The boys don't let you answer, and you don't talk to Jacob for several hours

Your hands reach for the phone, fumbling blindly. Just as your long-nailed fingers touch it someone whisks it away, turning it to vibrate before pressing it against your tired but still game clit. Another mini-orgasm rocks you.

As boy after boy uses your body like a blow-up doll the phone periodically vibrates, and each time you find your more and more worn-out body stiffening in a small orgasm.

Just like every other time you've cheated. It's never about the physical pleasure, it's about the possibility that your boyfriend could find out, that one of the boys might answer and tell Jacob what's happening.

It's a phone call that finally wakes you to the realization that the endless gang bang has ended.

You try to twist to look at the alarm clock, thinking yourself to be at home, and yelp at pain in your neck. The jolt wakes you up even more and you realize you're not in your bed and the phone isn't on a nightstand. In fact the phone is inside your body, vibrating and chiming merrily within your painfully sore twat.

"Oh God," you groan. "It was real! Jacob will... Jacob!" you gasp, and your fingers stab into your pussy, making you wince as the long nails pierce the raw, swollen tissue, fishing deeper and deeper while the phone vibrates and rings. Finally your finger nails tap the edge of the case and fight for purchase.

Grimacing against the intrusion you nonetheless insert multiple fingers to try and pull out the phone, the swampiness of your cunt constantly thwarting you. As your grip slips again and again you're certain the ringing will stop and voice mail will pick up but somehow it just keeps ringing.

At long last you manage to nudge the phone forward little by little, sharp nails scraping your sensitive membranes as you draw it forward.

Just as you get it out with a triumphant cry it stops.

"What? No...." you moan, lifting the older-model phone, grimacing at it. Male cum coats the entire phone, making it difficult to see the display. Instinctively you dial Jacob's number, waiting and waiting for it to pick up, ignoring the icky fluids coating the phone as you press it against your ear and cheek, willing him to pick up.

"'ello?" a groggy voice answers.

"J...J..." you croak, unable to get the words out, desperately trying to gulp down saliva to moisten a throat that feels swollen and as dry as a desert.

"Who's there?" Jacob crossly asks.

"Me!" you manage. "Jen..."

"Jenny? What the... It's four o'clock in the morning, what're you calling me for?"

"The movie..." you say, wanting to explain, not understanding why he isn't insisting on an explaination.

"What? Movie? Oh. Right. I couldn't find you."

"I, uh, turned off my phone," you say, which isn't entirely a lie. Someone did turn it off. "I got so into the movie I didn't hear it vibrating."

"You liked the movie?" he asks, sounding like he's going to nod off at any moment.

"Loved it! I, uh, totally got the character. Really felt like it was me up there," you lie, drawing a complete blank. What movie did you see, anyway?

A tired chuckle comes from your boyfriend, and in spite of the aches you feel relief welling within you.

"Good to know. Look, I gotta go. It's the middle of the night. Call you later," he says, and before you can say a thing, like 'love you' or 'bye' he hangs up.

Sighing you slide the phone down your face, forgetting about the slime covering it, and nearly fall asleep before a breeze makes you stir.

Did you forget to close the window, you wonder, and for the first time realize you're not indoors.

"What? Where?" you gasp, struggling to get up. You groan and fall back, your aching neck and back protesting, and your crotch not exactly happy with the movement either. Your hands fall on plastic, and you realize you're lying on garbage bags.

After more wriggling you fall between the bags and reach solid ground. With groans and weak limbs you eventually manage to scramble to your feet, slowly forcing your way clear of the garbage. Looking around you realize you're standing beside the road outside your apartment building.

Quickly you look around, but find no sign of your purse. Grimacing with every movement you climb the fire escape, using the broken window latches of your room to get inside, where you find your purse and clothes lying on your bed.

The vibrating of your phone makes you yelp and nearly drop it.

"Jacob?" you cry into it, and a chuckle you don't recognize greets you.

"Naw, not Jacob. One of your new pals. I was checking if you'd be up yet."

Your throat seems to go even drier than before, the relief that Jacob wasn't mad being replaced by fear that the boys might return.

Before you can think what to say he hangs up, but not before saying, "The boys were thinking we'd have a party next weekend. You know, invite the whole gang over to your place for a real blast. Sweet dreams."