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"You poor dear, and I had you come over here. Let me at least fix you something to drink."
"It's ok. I don't want you to go into any trouble for me. I will just go back home and go to bed. I'm sure I will feel better tomorrow," Jen said, opening the door.
"It will be no trouble at all."
"Maybe a rain check? I just want to go to bed," Jen told her from the hall.
"A rain check it is, then," Camila told her.
Jen walked to her apartment and quickly went inside. She poured herself a glass of wine to help her calm down before going to the bathroom.
She pulled off her shirt and bra and put them into the hamper. As she pulled down her panties, she realized how soaked they were.
There is no fucking way that I got excited over getting my face raped, Jen thought as she sat on the floor and started crying again.
She remembered how Donald just used her without regard to how she felt. The more she thought about it, the hotter she got, and before long, she realized that her hand was rubbing her clit. She stifled a moan as her fingers picked up speed rubbing her clit before moving lower until she started fingering herself.
Some part of her realized that she was making a lot of noise and if she weren't careful, she would wake up Stan. She looked down at her other hand, still clutching her soaked panties.
This is so fucking wrong, Jen thought as she brought them to her mouth and pushed them inside.
She dropped her hand to her breasts and picked up the pace of the hand buried in her pussy. A few minutes later, she started squirting cum all over the floor. After she caught her breath, she reluctantly pulled her hand out of her pussy with a squishing sound.
This is so gross, Jen thought as she found a towel to clean up the mess she had made on the floor.
She put the soaked towel and panties in the hamper before sneaking into her room for night clothes. After she dressed, she climbed into bed and fell asleep.
