Page 43 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

These enthusiastic shorts show unrestrained passion—something everyone seems to be searching for. But despite my best efforts to keep my thoughts away from her, when I’m touching myself, it always becomes my fantasies with Rachel. What I would do to her. How I would worship every inch of her body. Make her come so many times she can’t even walk. Lose myself completely in here. And I can’t bear to voice that again. Not when she’s out with someone else.

Instead, I stroke faster and grit my teeth against the urge to say her name. It hovers on the tip of my tongue like it has every single time I’ve done this since becoming HRD4U.

The orgasm builds rapidly, and I shoot my load up across my abs with a grunt. Hot spurts hitting my skin and cooling almost instantly, the same way my moment of bliss disappears in the blink of an eye.

I lie panting on the bed for a moment before I force myself up and glance at my laptop. As expected, the usual comments, hearts, and flower emojis fill my screen. I lean forward and scroll through them until I reach the bottom and freeze.

INEEDSOMED is back.

The one who had me thinking hard enough that I needed to go to confession and traumatize Father Lafayette with my filthy side-hustle.

INEEDSOMED

Thanks for the show tonight, HRD4U. I don’t know what has you so down tonight, but I suspect it may be a special someone. I’m telling you, any woman who doesn’t jump on the opportunity to be with you is a moron.

11

FLYNN

Another Sunday morning, another church service. At least this time, I don’t have Rachel brushing up against me and her scent wrapping around me while I lock eyes with the man on the cross.

I’m not sure I could take that today.

Not after her date with Dan last night.

Even doing a live feed and relieving the tension didn’t help with the pain of knowing what she might be doing with him.

Her porch light was off by the time I finished my feed and walked back to check the window—even though I promised myself I wouldn’t. So, I knew she got home okay, but I couldn’t stop wondering if she was alone or not…

No.

Even if that damn statue wasn’t staring right down at me, those aren’t the thoughts I want in my head. Not at home. Certainly not here. I close my eyes and shake my head to try to clear the mental images.

Don’t think about it.

It’s not your business.

I set them up because I thought they had a lot in common. It was the act of a good friend. One who should be happy if they like each other, not jealous. Something I’ve been reminding myself of since the moment I watched him walk up to her porch to pick her up last night. Something I will have to keep reminding myself of since her late return suggests things went well. If it hadn’t, she would have been home well before I resorted to the sin of lust to try to forget about what she was out doing.

Be happy for them.

Smile.

Breathe.

I force my eyes open as Father Lafayette rises to his feet and motions for the congregation to do the same.

Thank God it’s almost over.

This entire Mass has been unbearable.

Father’s eyes keep drifting my way—especially during the sermon on lust that seemed very pointed and rather timely planned. And there was a look…almost like he knows it was me in the confessional and chose that particular topic today specifically for me.

It’s supposed to be anonymous—a place to seek forgiveness without judgment. Yet, the conviction in his gaze now leaves no question—he knows what I do every night. As if it’s not bad enough that the big man upstairs and his son are judging me, now I’ve got Father Lafayette doing it, too.

So much for anonymity in the confessional booth.

The words of the final prayer ring out, and as soon as the choir starts the closing hymn, I lean down to Mom. “I’ll meet you at the diner for coffee.”

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