Sometimes I lie awake at night tracing this ugly scar across my belly and wonder if he even remembers what my pussy feels like. The way he used to worship my body before Mills came along... before I became this stretched out, scarred mess. I can still feel his cock inside me from that last time, how he'd whisper how beautiful I was while fucking me so deep. Now he comes home smelling like perfume that's not mine and I'm just supposed to believe he's working late. Fuck. Maybe if I wasn't so fucking insecure I'd just grab his dick and remind him what he's missing instead of crying in the bathroom.