Donor - Ch. 11

11.

Samantha woke up blearily, unsure of where she was, the sunlight streaming in through the window, still feeling drunk and also incredibly horny. She planted her feet on the bed and spread her long thighs wide before reaching down between her legs, gripping her massive sticky erection and jerking herself off.

She murmured in pleasure as she gave herself a few hard strokes before her eyes flew open.

Oh what the fuck..!

She still had a fucking cock! She leapt out of bed, standing before the floor length mirror as last night's events came flooding back to her. Samantha was shocked at her reflection, showing a disheveled blond in a slinky, short black nightie, whitish, dried cum stains brightly contrasting against the dark, velvety silk, her huge member jutting out in front of her.

Oh god... What the fuck did we do?!

And afterwards, she had passed out without even taking the pill to reverse things! Jesus!

She tore out of her bedroom to the bathroom, her cock ludicrously bobbing in front of herself all the while. She immediately grabbed the pack of T&C and popped out a tiny pastel pink pill, dry-swallowing it.

It was only after she felt that wave of slightly euphoric calmness settle over her, and her erection first softened, then wilted, then receded completely, that Samantha's heart began to finally pound inside of her chest a little less. She let out a deep breath before leaving the bathroom again, now heading into the living room.

She found Janet, laying on the couch fast asleep. She was immodestly sprawled out, still in her evening dress from the night before, the bottom half of which was mostly entangled around her waist, exposing her long, slim legs all the way up to just above her hips. Janet's sex was visible as well, and while Samantha felt a thrill of guilt at this invasion of privacy while her friend was vulnerable and unaware, nonetheless, she could not look away, transfixed to see it dribbling a veritable puddle of oozing semen.

She shuddered, knowing that the ejaculation was her own, the fuzzy recollection of having put it there in the first place replaying in her mind. Despite having taken the pink pill, she was taken aback as she felt a prurient stirring in her own loins.

This... this is so messed up...

She finally managed to tear her gaze away and, admonishing herself all the while, quickly bathed and changed and then quietly slipped out of the apartment before Janet awoke.

***

Samantha hadn't realized how early in the morning it was until after she'd gotten into her car, but she headed into the office nonetheless. Where else was she to go at that moment anyway?

She settled in front of her computer with a cup of coffee and some ibuprofen to help with her growing headache. Being awake for a hangover to set in was something Samantha considered tantamount to torture and it looked like she was in a for a rough day, but at least she had a few hours to cope with it on her own before the rest of the office began to file in.

The bigger issue was that as her hangover began to fade, her clarity sharpened, as did her recollection of the previous night. It was all completely insane. She couldn't believe that she and Janet had ended up doing... that.

How could they have..? If anything, it was she herself that had initiated everything. Why?

When they had first gotten together for the evening, things had been so strained. Samantha was more than happy to overindulge a little to take the edge off of things. The tension... it was all because of Janet's idea. Because of those pills. What they did to her body. She'd been hesitant, naturally, about taking them, but she hadn't anticipated the way they would mess with her head, making her think all kinds of crazy things.

And then somehow amongst all of these new illicit and atypical thoughts, Spring Break kept resurging as well, and as the night progressed and the drinks kept coming, gradually the two began to blend and interweave together into something really unexpectedly scandalous.

She'd waited, getting drunker and drunker all the while, barely listening, waiting for the conversation to steer back to Janet's idea, but it never had, and then in the end, intoxicated and with little remaining inhibition, she'd just blurted out that they should try it again.

Janet hadn't argued, which she'd been encouraged by. And then, when they'd gotten back to the apartment, she'd half-stumbled into the bathroom and taken that blue pill, unable to think of anything other than that last night of Spring Break, that alcohol-soaked, passion-filled last night...

She'd emerged from the bathroom after the pill had done its work, and she'd found Janet fast asleep, and at that moment Samantha had had every opportunity in the world to not go through with it and go to bed herself.... but instead she'd gone to her bedroom and changed into that scandalously short little black silk nightie and woken her roommate up.

You're totally sick... Something is seriously wrong with you, Samantha berated herself.

The shock and self-deprecation however, did nothing to assuage the accompanying arousal that flared up as the echoes of last night's pleasures reverberated in her brain. The way it had felt to stick that hard, throbbing cock inside of Janet. All of the repressed fantasies that had filled her mind these past weeks were nothing, nothing compared to the reality. How wet and hot and tight Janet had been... The feeling of her cock fully enveloped, squeezed. The lubricated friction as she rubbed it back and forth, slowly, deliberately, each stroke feeling so indescribably intense, bringing her closer and closer until finally she had erupted...

She rubbed her thighs uncomfortably at her desk, trying to forget about it, focus on her work, but it all kept coming back to her -- the way it had felt to bury herself in and ejaculate inside of Janet, inseminate her, just the knowledge of performing the act somehow made it feel even better, how right it felt, lighting up the pleasure centers of Samantha's brain. It was some primal instinct that felt like it hadn't come from within herself, and yet it was somehow so deeply, intrinsically ingrained.

Fucked up. This is so fucked up... You're in a relationship for chrissake. You're supposed to be getting married...

At that, Samantha thought to check her phone and looked at the long list of missed calls and unanswered texts from Michael. If he only knew what she'd been doing last night. Who she'd been doing it with...

Until now, she'd been able to justify her actions -- at least enough to assuage her guilty feelings -- and tell herself she'd only been doing her duty as Janet's friend. But she couldn't explain things away now; yesterday had crossed the line. She had cheated. There was no other way to put it.

Samantha shivered slightly. Despite herself, there was something... exciting about the idea. That she'd been unfaithful to Michael, and with her best friend, her girlfriend, no less. The way that she had cheated... She immediately felt disgusted and ashamed, but that thrill was still coursing through her body.

What kind of person was she? What was she turning into..? She'd never stepped outside of a relationship, not with Michael, not with anyone before him. The very notion of cheating had always seemed so distasteful. Now, there was some kind of enticing... allure. That she wanted something so badly, something that she wasn't supposed to want, that she should try to resist... How good it felt to give in...

How twisted things had become in her own head... She felt corrupted and illicit. Depraved. There was something very mean and nasty and selfish yet exhilarating about wanting to indulge in sexual gratification, reveling in the desire to cheat once again.

It was a long, unproductive day, and by 5 o'clock Samantha had long since stopped admonishing herself, the guilt lost in her flustered frustration. She couldn't remember ever being so aroused before, and the impulse to rub herself at her desk was almost irresistible, though she'd managed to hold off until she was back in the relative privacy of her car.

Arriving at Michael's, her boyfriend had barely opened his mouth to say a word when she practically pounced on him, tearing his clothes off, and they ended up doing it right there on the floor. If he was at all angry about the night before, it was instantly forgotten. Her mind was a jumbled, blurred mess, wallowing in the pleasure, thinking of Janet all the while. The knowledge that her fiancé was completely oblivious got her off in a very debased way.

***

"Man, not that I'm complaining babe, but what's gotten into you lately?"

"Hmm?" Samantha wasn't paying attention as she typed on her phone while she and Michael sat underneath the covers, side by side in bed later that evening.

'How's everything?' Samantha tapped out on the screen, deliberating a minute before hitting Send.

Now that her needs had been sated, it was like she had come out of a fog, her sanity returned and she was completely mortified by what she had done, left only with the guilt and shame without the excitement. And yet even that paled still, by something that was bothering her even more.

All she'd been thinking the whole day was hot it had been to cheat on Michael, and somewhere deep down inside was the mostly unacknowledged notion that she... wanted to do it again. But now, she was incredulous with herself that she hadn't at all considered the possibility that Janet wouldn't want to.

The truth was, she had no idea what Janet was thinking at all. What if she was angry about what had happened? Or, worse... repulsed? They'd both been very drunk -- what if she felt taken advantage of? What if Janet never wanted to speak to her again? The fears and doubts rushed in like the aftermath of Spring Break times a thousand. How could she ever look Janet in the eye again after this?

But to Samantha's relief, her phone chimed quite quickly, though it was short-lived as she wasn't sure what to make of the text message she received.

'i'm good' That was it. She tried to figure out in what tone to read Janet's reply.

"Samantha?"

"Huh?" She glanced over to see Michael looking at her with a waiting expression.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on with you..?"

"I don't know," she answered absently without looking, brow furrowed as she continued to stare at her phone, as though some deeper clarity was forthcoming from it. "Pre-wedding jitters. Time of the month. Something like that."

"Hey..." Michael put a hand out, pushing her phone down, trying to get her full attention. "That's not even a real answer. Come on, talk to me.

"You know, I called you like a billion times yesterday and you never even picked up. I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry." She shrugged him off, pulling her phone away. "Give me a minute here, I'm talking to Janet..."

Samantha couldn't think of anything that resembled a normal response and she decided to just be direct.

'I'm so, so sorry about last night. I don't know what I was thinking. It must have been the alcohol. I'll never do anything like that again.'

She re-read what she wrote, took a deep breath and hit Send once more.

"Is everything all right between you guys?"

"I don't know, Michael!" Samantha snapped. "Can you just give me a minute here?!"

She felt momentarily guilty upon seeing the look of surprise and hurt on his face, but then her phone chimed again and she immediately looked back down to her lap.

'it's ok'

Samantha was troubled by the terseness of the response, but then another message came in right after that.

'you don't have anything to be sorry about. you've done so much for me and i really appreciate it so much. you're the best <3'

She breathed a sigh of relief. Janet wasn't mad at her after all.

"Everything's fine, Michael." She turned toward him, a beaming smile on her face. He seemed on the verge of asking more, but Samantha gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she reached behind him, snapping off the bedside light.

"Good night!"