Deal with the emergency - text Omar

You grab your iPhone from the console and go through Facebook. Your friends have changed... you're obviously a "Prom Queen" type, and as far as you can tell, not a very educated one.

Well, damn. So much effort wasted. On the other hand, damn. You look incredible.

You then checkout your Contacts app. Three clearly stand out: Mom, Honey and... Omar Bootycall. Okaaaay.

What the hell.

You checkout the conversation between the two of you. It's... enlightening? Especially the part where you tell him that your boyfriend doesn't mind as long as he gets his cock sucked. You are a slut, apparently. The part where Mr Bootycall tells you he can enlarge your pussy till you drip with his cum and you'll beg for his baby is a bit over the top, but the ones where he sends pictures of his "friends" playing with his... little friend? All right!

"Wanna suck da BBC bitch?"

"Another of my baby mamas getting it. Wanna try?"

The pictures you send back are... risqué.

Then there are the texts that show you did invite him over... and the pictures you sent to your husband. Wait... wife. This is really impossible to keep track of. You decide to refer to "her" as "your husband" until you can fix things one way or another. You hope there is some way to access the damn coin. It must be somewhere... right?

While you're thinking, your hands type.

"Wanna come over?"

"Sure bitch. Need a good fuck again? You gonna walk funny!"

Well, that's what you need. Definitely.

"- Tammy! I'm done, you can get the shower if you want! Don't spend too much time in the swimming pool or sunbathing today, or you'll get sunburns! Love you babe!"