Sort of...

You can't bear not knowing if your friend has responded. You pick up the phone and find two messages:

Hey babe. I am so confused. I feel terrible but also cnt stop thinkin about ur amazing body. R u really pregnant? This is all so weird. Hope u r ok. Can I see u tomoro?

And then, several hours later:

I've jerked off like six times thinkin about u. I cnt believe I might have knocked u up. U thinkin about me?

What a fucking loser. That first message almost made you feel warm about him. Amongst the drivel, it had everything it needed apart from the start of a very big apology. You were so close to having happy (rather than just sexy) thoughts about the man you fucked this morning who'd been you friend for twenty years, and then he sends that other message. Still no apology, still obsessing over you like a piece of meat, and then asking if you were thinking about him! ... Even though you have been. A lot. But he should have some fucking awareness at least that you're **** right now.

Ugh. You slam the phone down in disgust and turn away. You try to settle down to sleep, uncomfortably aware of how big your breasts feel, pressed against the mattress. It takes a long time to find a comfortable position, as what's good for your boobs is at an angle that puts pressure on your curvy hips.

Eventually you find a position that kinda works, and you drift off to sleep, with lust-filled dreams of riding Alex's fat cock as your swollen belly and huge milky tits jiggle with every thrust...