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I was with my boyfriend, Ryan, for about three years. He was short and well built. He had brown eyes, brown hair and his skin was pretty pale. He was handsome for being so average looking but his dick was definitely not average. It was thick and pink and he knew how to fuck a girl. He'd tear it up in the sack with his rock hard cock. He'd made my pussy scream in ecstasy as he would slam into me and pull it covered in my wetness, over and over. His cum would shoot out like a white fireball, thick and hot. It turned me on watching it seep down the lips of my pussy. We had an amazing sex life but we had emotional difficulties within our relationship. We fought about everything and anything. I would get yelled at if a man ogled me when I walked down the streets of downtown. I'd yell at him if his ex called him to go out to lunch. As our relationship continued to crumbled, he'd spend more and more nights drinking alone in the bedroom. I have to say it was better than him drinking at a bar then fucking some bimbo in an alley. Since he spent most nights drunk I'd walk around the apartment complex going up and down the elevator, walking back and forth through the hallways of the twenty-two floor building.

One night, as I left Ryan drunk as fuck in our apartment, I made my way to the seventh floor, four floors below mine, I noticed movers hauling boxes from the elevator into a room. There was a petite woman with curly red hair and an ugly pink tank top ordering the men to put the boxes here or there. I stood and watched her boss them around for about two minutes before she finally glanced over at me and demanded, " What ...

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