When I opened the door to Emma's apartment, the first thing I noticed was the smell. The stench hung so thick in the air it was like a wall, an acrid aroma of sweat, sex, and semen that permeated the entire room. It smelt like the night after a bachelor party; a noxious mixture of body odor, cigarettes, cheap wine, and cum.

The room was a mess, empty beer bottles and used condoms were strewn across the floor with wanton disregard. At the center of it all, I found Emma, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and looking every bit as filthy and used-up as her apartment did. She still wore a tube-top and miniskirt, but they were both bunched up around her waist, as if the men using her hadn't even bothered to take them off, instead just pushing them aside. Her panties—a sheer, lacy black thong—were dangling from one ankle, alongside the ripped remnants of a pair of stockings that looked like they'd been torn from her body in a fit of savage passion.

She lay on her stomach, facing away from me, and I could see her asscheeks were splattered with thick, creamy globs of semen, which had oozed down her alabaster cheeks to pool between them. A river of spunk leaked down her asscrack, dripping to the floor where it pooled between her bare thighs. Filled condoms had been draped across her back and thighs like vulgar decorations, as if she'd been treated as much as a garbage bin as well as a cum dump. An empty beer bottle was still inserted neck-deep in her spunk-filled pussy, having been used as an improvised dildo.

As I drew closer her face came into view, a face no better off than her used and abused body was. Slimy streaks of cum could be seen in her platinum-blonde hair, and leaking from the corners of her open mouth.