Yes but it isn't a happy homecoming

Mary Jane stumbled down the block on wobbly legs, her lips coated with cum, her costume drawing even more stares than her usual attire. She the could feel the lust radiating from every man on the block. She saw at least four men pull out their phones and start clicking away. It was all so typical and yet her body vacillated between disgust and lust. MJ always got a bit of a thrill for being seen and recognized. She probably would have had a mental breakdown if she didn't. Maybe this was her breakdown.

She entered her building as the first catcalls started, those men would be astounded at the genuine smile on the bombshells face as the door closed behind her. With a quick shake of her red mane she began the four flight hike up the stairs to her and Peter's small apartment. Their empty apartment. It scared her as she opened the door and looked around, knowing she would likely never spend another relaxing day in Peter's arms on their cozy sofa, or a casual mid-day sixty-nine in their bed. No their life, her life, had changed too much in the past two weeks. Even if, Peter decided to be her cuckold, this was likely the last night she would spend in this apartment.

MJ couldn't help but look around. Breath in the smells of cheap pasta. Touch the frames of Peter's favorite pictures. A hint of anger in her eyes as she remembered his refusal to let her post it on her socials. The idealistic man was too stuck in the past. Nick had shown her what was possible just by looking at other models she knew. How could she have fallen for such cheap rhetoric. She knew it was because she loved Peter and her trust in him made her look over his so many flaws. He was a good man, but not a great husband, and a pathetic lover.

With a sigh, MJ moved on to the "bedroom" in their cramped one room apartment. Stripping down MJ put all of the clothes in the outfit in a plastic bag and walked to their shower. Her last shower in their apartment. No more morning shower BJ's, or wild nightly shower sex. She had to admit Peter's stamina was impressive as she thought back to the length of time they spent fucking, when they were actually together. Which had been dipping since their marriage.

How had she stayed faithful so long? Probably the years of rejecting photographers, agents and other models had got them used to the rejection, she actually wasn't hit on that often on set anymore. Nick and Craig were probably the first two to hit on her in over a year. Actually hit on her, not just catcall her from down the street, or up the ladder.

MJ let the warm water cascade down her body. Still painfully black and blue from the thrashing from the Kingpin. Nothing broken, just frightfully bruised. She had been practically covered in makeup when she left the limo. All those stares and catcalls, how many would have happened if they had seen her like this. Her face was still the same, the Kingpin had been careful not to leave even a handprint there, the man knew how to control his tremendous strength amazingly well. Toweling off stung, as she threw on her shirt, Peter's old college shirt and flopped into her bed before trying to pass out. However, sleep wouldn't come, something was missing. It hit her like a brick, as she looked around and found her eyes drawn to her toy drawer. In seconds she was asleep, her five inch dildo stuffed between her puffy lips. Tears streamed down her face as she slept, her pillow damp from tears and drool.