Kayla awoke the next morning with her head pounding. She managed to open her eyes and was greeted by the rude rays of the sun dancing in through her open window. Groaning and stirring, she felt an unfamiliar figure next to her. Startled, she jumped. She realized the guy from last night was in her bed. Except, instead of being a sexy nerd, there was a pimple-faced, crooked glasses, twig of a specimen lying in bed next to her. She had no idea what had happened. Horrified, she looked down and saw blood all over her sheets. There was a huge gash on her right foot. Glancing down at her naked body, she noticed a large purple bruise forming on her inner thigh. Looking further around the room, she saw a condom and its wrapper strewn amongst her clothes all over the floor.
Kayla was a very proud woman and she just knew she would never stoop to the level of the beta male in the bed next to her. As she walked into the bathroom to examine herself, she noticed mascara and eyeliner running all over her face, as well as her red, puffy eyes. She had been crying. She didn’t remember exactly what happened, but she knew, deep down in her heart, that she would never be slutty enough to sleep with such a man. She swore on her word.
Daniel stirred half an hour later. He looked around and realized he wasn’t in his own room. Looking around, he too saw the condom on the floor and cursed himself for not being able to finally lose the V card which seemed destined to latch on to him for eternity. He called out for Kayla but received no response. “No bother,” he muttered to himself, “She probably just went to get coffee for a hangover cure. Better than she doesn’t see me, anyway, after I couldn’t get my dick hard for a girl who was a solid 9.” He gathered his clothes off the floor, put them on, and walked out into the living room. He chuckled as he saw the glass covering the living room floor, and as he tiptoed around it, he made a mental note to hit the gym so that next time he tried to pick a girl up he wouldn’t drop her and break any more furniture.
Just down the street at Jenny’s apartment, Kayla and Jenny rehashed the night and tried to piece together what had happened. Neither of them could remember. Kayla believed she had been raped and was set on it. She had dozen of texts from her just as drunk friends, saying things along the lines of, “Where are you?!?!”, “You didn’t go home with that guy did you!!!” Jenny, being the good friend that she was, encouraged Kayla to go to the police and report the incident.
The cops showed up at Daniel’s apartment later that day, to his utter bewilderment. They told him that he had been accused of rape and needed to go in for further questioning. They put him in custody and he was forced to spend the night in jail as no one he knew had the bail money to get him out.
Over the next several months, the case went to trial. With Kayla’s word, and the incidents taking place around the apartment, the judge found Daniel guilty on charges of rape. Despite his tearful pleas and testament of the story that actually happened, the judge believed the sobbing, pretty girl sitting on the plaintiff’s side of the courtroom. As the judge’s hammer fell, sentencing Daniel to ten years in jail a wave of anger, depression, and despair washed over the innocent man.
Kayla was devastated for the next six months until a Prince Charming DJ for a local radio show came along and swooped her off her feet. He dumped her, but this relationship paved the way to a healed heart. Kayla continued on to rack up a notch count of 48 cocks taken in her life. Eventually, when she was 37, she married an accountant who was 33. They had two children together and raised them in the suburbs. Kayla told her new husband, Anthony, the entire story of how she was raped 14 years ago when she was 23. What she never told him about was the doubt that had crept into her mind as soon as the judge’s gavel fell, sentencing the boy she couldn’t even remember.
In fact, she never told anybody.
Daniel lived the next 10 years of his life in jail. After he was released, he was 32 years old. He had no degree, no job prospects, and he worked long hours in an welding shop to make ends meet. He never had another alcoholic drink in his life. When friends brought girls around, he would just stare coldly at them. He gained weight through the depression, turning to pizza and ice cream because female company wasn’t something he ever wanted. He died of a heart attack at the age of 56.
He died a virgin.
The only problem was, nobody believed him.