Page 50 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

“No, not a pervert.” That makes it sound so illicit. “Just a nice guy who knows how to have some fun and get dirty in private.”

“You mean a nice guy like Flynn?” She raises an eyebrow.

Why does she have to keep bringing up Flynn like that’s ever going to happen?

She can’t accept we are only friends and always will be. I had hoped explaining what I’m looking for would help her understand once and for all why we will never be more than friends.

“Yes, like Flynn, only dirty. Why can’t there be a dirty version of Flynn?”

She chuckles. “Maybe you can make him dirty? Dirty him up?”

I shake my head and enjoy my mimosa as I contemplate a dirty Flynn.

It only makes me laugh uncontrollably.

I just can’t. He’s too nice. Too clean. Too wholesome. I mean, he attended Catholic school his whole life and still goes to church with his mom. He volunteers for overtime at work so that other people can have holidays off. He opens the door for people and always finds ways to cheer me up with something innocent like kicking my ass at mini golf. There isn’t a dirty bone in his body.

Nice guys like that don’t talk dirty or fuck girls brainless. They’re sweet and “make love” all the time. That certainly has its place and time, but not all the time.

“That will never happen.” I wave a hand at her. “Anyway, I messaged the guy last night.”

She freezes. “You what?”

“I mean, I didn’t message him directly, but I commented on his video.”

“Did he reply to your comment?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t logged back on. But I doubt it. I commented one other time and never noticed a response.”

She scrambles to set her glass on the table and grabs my phone from next to my plate. “Let’s check. What’s the website?”

“H-R-D, the number four, and U, then dot com.”

A laugh bubbles out of her mouth. “Hard for you? Really?”

“Just open it.”

She giggles and leans forward across the table so I can see as the familiar site pops up. Her eyes widen at the very prominent picture on the cover page of his hard cock and torso. “Jesus, you’re right. This guy’s hot, and what a damn package!”

“I know.” A warm flush floods my cheeks.

“And he does live feeds and also posts things on the site?”

I nod. “Yeah, he’s got pictures of his dick, pictures of himself doing things in the nude, and then he does live video streams, and occasionally, he’ll post them to the site, but it’s mostly just for subscribers to see the lives.”

“Well, shit. I don’t see anything from last night.” She scrolls on the screen for a second. Then her eyes drift up to the corner where my screen name is displayed. “Wait, is this your name? INEEDSOMED?”

I slip my hand over my face that’s likely as red as a tomato right now. “It’s all I could come up with.”

“Jesus, girl”—she laughs—“you need help.”

“I know.”

I really, really do. The question is, what kind of help? Mental? Physical? Both?

Probably both.

A good, hard fucking with a little therapy thrown in for good measure might be just the ticket to finding sanity.

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