A Clean Slate

Josie storms out after catching Clark red-handed, or so she thinks. He chases after her, begging, but she keeps walking right into the street and gets smashed by a car in front of his eyes. Weeks later she’s laid up in bed, blank as a fresh sheet. Best friend Felicia hovers, fluffing pillows and cooing, asking how Josie really feels. Josie says she can’t remember jack from that day or any of the days before it. Felicia promises she’ll stick around no matter what, then steps out. In the living room she plants a sloppy kiss on Clark like they’ve been doing behind Josie’s back all along. They whisper that the accident wiped Josie’s memory clean and maybe the universe is handing them another chance. Guilt flickers for a second, then they talk themselves into it harder, voices getting husky. Clark’s hands slip under Felicia’s shirt, squeezing those big tits, and she moans, shoving her tongue deeper. Clothes hit the floor fast. He drops to his knees, spreads her, and laps at her wet pussy before standing again so she can taste herself off his mouth. Then Felicia wraps her lips around his cock, blonde hair swinging, slurping like she’s starving. Clark lifts her onto the couch, fingers sliding deep, working her open until she’s panting. They fuck right there, risky and loud, convinced Josie’s too weak to hear a thing, but that smug relief might not last.