Donor - Ch. 15

15.

"Michael, I'm so sorry. I don't know what more to say at this point."

He sat there stonily, across the kitchen table in his apartment. A beer sat in front of him opened yet untouched, condensation building on the glass bottle, trickling down.

"I know what you can say," he finally burst out. "You can tell me what all of this is about, what the hell is going on with you these past months."

"I told you already," Samantha repeated quietly. "I was trying to help Janet. Trying to help get her through this rough spot. But that's all done now."

"What's all done?!" Michael threw his arms up in frustration, eyes widening. "Help how? What're we even talking about?!"

"I told you, I can't really talk about it."

"That's not good enough!"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in aggravation, mussing it up. Finally, he grabbed the beer, taking a swig before slamming it down too hard, looking off to the side angrily. Foam welled up the neck of the bottle and then spilled over like his bubbling emotions.

"Look, you know -- whatever. You're not going to tell me, fine. But it still doesn't change the fact that you put Janet first. You put her before our relationship. You put her before our wedding. You put her before me."

"She's my oldest friend," Samantha responded. "She's been my best friend ever since college."

"Still."

"You're right, Michael," she admitted. "I was wrong to do that. I thought I had no choice, but I was totally wrong. I was just trying to be a good friend."

Michael said nothing, only took another pull from his beer in silence.

"I'll never put her first ever again. Some friend she turned out to be anyway," Samantha added bitterly, more to herself than anything.

His countenance softened somewhat at that. Whatever had happened must've been really bad to come between her and Janet. He was angry, of course, but if he was really being honest with himself, he more or less would have expected Janet to come first, might even have been surprised if she didn't. They were practically sisters. It was just that the timing of all of this was terrible. Nonetheless, he felt some of his anger ebbing.

"Well, you missed out on some pretty damn good food," he offered grudgingly.

"Was it?" Samantha asked hopefully, picking up on the slightly improved change in tone. "I'm so sorry I missed out on that, honey."

"Look, Sam, if whatever is going on is really done, then it's fine. I don't want to fight with you, especially this close to the wedding."

A jarring thought occurred to him then. "You do still want to get married... don't you..?"

Michael thought he saw a flicker in his fiance's blue eyes, some brief hesitation, but a second later it was gone before he could be sure it was ever there in the first place. She rose from her seat and came around the table, putting her arms around the back of his neck, drawing him in.

"You're the best, Michael. Let me show you how much I want you..."

She planted a series of extremely sexy kisses on his lips.

A long time later, he would look back on that moment and realize she never answered the question.

***

"Ooh..."

Samantha moaned with a passion she didn't feel. It was wrong, all wrong. She should have been happy that she'd smoothed things over with Michael, enjoying this make-up sex romp session. She felt like a fraud for initiating it in the first place, but it seemed like the right, logical move, like the thing she would have naturally done if she'd really been truly relieved that her fiance wasn't angry anymore, and the best way to patch things up.

But somehow, there was just this feeling of detached apathy, that while this matter was settled, larger more important issues still were not. Why, though? Everything was fine between her and Michael, they'd go off and get married, and she'd never speak to or think about Janet ever again. Everything all neatly wrapped up. That's all she wanted, right?

Samantha, on all fours on the kitchen floor, felt glad that Michael was behind her, unable to see her expression. As before, it did feel good to be taken this way, to have him inside of herself, an affirmation of her core identity. At the same time, it was now an uncomfortable reminder having been in Michael's position herself, on the giving end only mere hours ago.

Giving it to Janet.

That was really what was so wrong -- how quickly everything had changed on a life-altering level, in so many ways, in such a short time. It wasn't even the whole crazy plan, taking the drug and everything else, which she'd had time to get used to for months now, but rather the events of this week alone. The days of raw sexual indulgence. The acknowledgement of their years-long mutual feelings for one another. The sudden betrayal. It was all too much, the pendulum of emotions swinging from one extreme to the other. To try to go back to normal after all of that was impossible...

You have to, Samantha told herself. Just try your best to forget. This is the only way forward.

She reached down between her legs, rubbing her clit, trying to get herself more in the mood. Michael was oblivious, his hands on her waist, pulling her back into himself, groaning. Using her.

The way she'd used Janet.

Janet with her nice, round ass, her tight, little wet snatch squeezing Samantha's cock, craving every inch of it...

Stop it, Samantha berated herself. Stop thinking about that.

Janet betrayed her. Janet lied to her. Janet manipulated her. She'd convinced her to take that stupid, crazy pill. The one that had changed her, that had altered her, made her into something else... and then Janet had used her. Used what she'd become. And in the end, none of it had been for Janet to conceive. It had all been for her debauched, illicit, carnal gratification.

That sick, perverted slut...

All she had wanted was Samantha's cock. She'd used it every which way. She'd spit on Samantha's thick, hard member, while squeezing it, rubbing it between her tits, sliding and smearing it around with her saliva and Samantha's dribbling pre-cum. Sucking the jizz out of it with her slutty mouth, her cheeks hollowing. Making those obscene noises when Samantha shoved it up her cunt. On her hands and knees, just like Samantha was now, looking back at her with those blue eyes, through her perspiration-soaked, dark hair, mewling.

Stop it, stop it, stop it...

Samantha was moaning now, lost in guilty reminiscence. The fingers behind her legs were working more urgently now, though she wasn't in need of it to stimulate her arousal any longer. Lubrication was running down her hand.

Stop thinking about her. She used you. She just wanted your cock. Because she's a sick, filthy whore...

Yea, that was right. That's all Janet wanted -- to get banged on all fours, just like this. Samantha was panting loudly, rubbing herself furiously. This was what Janet wanted, what Samantha doing right now. Getting fucked doggy-style. Like a dog. Like a horny bitch.

"Ohhhh...ohhhh... ohhhhhhh..."

Samantha was way past having to fake the noises of passion any longer. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was started to press herself backwards to meet Micheal's thrusts. She found herself wriggling her ass wantonly, as Janet would do to her, which had driven her crazy...

Michael liked it too apparently. He was ramming her hard now, letting out a grunt each time he buried himself inside. She could feel his cock starting to grow hotter, more rigid as his climax neared. She recalled so vividly just how that felt...

"Ohhhhhh... Ohhhhh...Ohhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Samantha's mouth was frozen in an 'O', her lips parted as the moans of pleasure escaped her throat. She was almost there, her clit starting to pulse and switch, the pressure building, just like she knew the pressure was building in Michael's cock, she was practically reliving that feeling of the burning semen welling up her shaft, her dick going extra-hard...

"Oh fuck..."

Each of Michael's thrusts were bringing her closer and closer to the edge, and Samantha felt her teeth clenching, her pretty face scrunched up in concentration. She was nearly there, so close, so close...

"Fuuuuuck..."

And then, just then, Samantha felt her clit pulse and bulge. Her eyes flew open.

No...

Earlier, she and Janet had wondered... Had the drug simply worn off? Or perhaps, she'd returned to her natural state once her lust had been thoroughly exhausted?

Oh no...

Now she knew. She knew it was the latter.

"Wait," she whispered.

Michael probably didn't even hear it. Even if he had, her body was sending the complete opposite message, shoving herself back hard as he slammed himself into her compulsively.

"Nuuhhhh... nuhhhhh... uhhh!"

Samantha wasn't able to even properly protest, her traitorous body overriding her brain, concerned only with the pending ecstasy.

No, she couldn't! If she did...

"Michael..!"

Her fingertips were pressed up against her clit hard, working roughly, bordering on pain, and she knew what was going to happen next, even as she was heedless to stop.

"Wait, Michael, don't--"

But even as she finally found her voice, Micheal let out a great roar, burying himself up to his balls as he came, filling her with his seed.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Feeling his semen splashed her inside, Samantha's orgasm was triggered as well, even as she screamed out in anguished pleasure, trying to stop the inevitable. Her clit twitched and pulsed intolerably before exploding out, gushing, and her massive phallus emerged with an immeasurable blast of mind-blowing euphoria.

Even as her mind screamed out in denial, the pleasure was not to be refused. And worse still, some perverse, depraved part of herself got off on the guilt and shame. Her hand had been smashed up against her clit, whether to hold her cock back or coax it out, she couldn't have said; whatever the case, now the hot, slippery, wet, throbbing cock meat filled her palm, her fingers instantly wrapped around the thick shaft, and she stroked herself hard, ejaculating messily all over the floor.

"Uhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhh! Uhhhhhhhhhh!" Samantha moaned noisily, mindlessly, with each earth-shattering spurt, abs clenched, pelvis convulsing.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh..!"

Samantha shuddered, eyes squeezed shut, clenching her still-erect member as it let out another weak squirt, which was excruciatingly intense in her post-peak hyper-sensitivity. For several moments, they were both silent save for their gasps of breath, savoring their climaxes, coming back down. With a groan, Michael pulled himself out.

And then, he cried out: "What the fuck?!"

Oh, no. Oh, fuck, no...

It was like a douse of cold water. Samantha slowly got to her feet, and turned to face Michael, her hands automatically, shamefully trying covering her crotch, even as her cock twitched, issuing a final paltry dribble, causing her to shiver.

"What-- you--- you have a..."

Michael was rooted to the floor, his own soiled manhood exposed and flaccid in his shock, his eyes fixed down on Samantha's mid-section, at what Samantha was unsuccessfully trying to conceal. She could see it all on his face: the horror and disgust, the anger and confusion, and then the dawning awareness and understanding of all that had been going on these past months...

She turned away, retreating to their bedroom, going straight for the closet. Michael had hitched his pants up, buckling his belt as he followed close behind.

"You... You've been taking those pills..!" Michael blurted out as she ripped a dress from one of the hangers and pulled it over her head. He was still pacing behind her as she fled out of the bedroom, before she reluctantly stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to face him.

She was saliently aware of the way that her still-erect member was jutting forward, tenting the fabric of her dress, which clung to it due to all of the fluids it was coated in.

"Michael, I am so sorry... Sorry for everything. I'll explain everything. I'll tell you everything."

"Jesus...

"You... and Janet..?!"

Samantha said nothing, looking away in silent, ashamed confirmation.

"This... this is beyond fucked up," he said, a look of awestruck incredulity on his face, but only a moment later his face hardened with a growing rage.

"This? This is the thing you had to do?!" He gestured roughly at her waist, a dark wet spot staining the front of her dress now. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you ever take those pills?!"

"Michael, please," she pleaded, reaching out. "Just let me try to--"

"Don't fucking touch me..!"

Nothing could have hurt her more in that instant than the way he recoiled from her, stepping back, his lip curling in genuine revulsion.

"You and me -- we are done," Michael fumed. "We are so done..."

Samantha only had to look at the set expression on his face, the coldness in his eyes, to know that it truly was all over. Whatever words had come to mind died on her lips. There was no coming back from this.

"I'm so sorry, Michael," she whispered softly, as she turned and left the apartment.