Fabulous Filthy Friend, page 5
Rachel’s almost walking in on me making naked pancakes. The way Christ seemed to judge me from the crucifix. Mom’s comments at the diner. All of it built and built until I couldn’t contain it anymore.
My mind won’t stop spinning, going over everything Mom and Rachel said. And now, I can’t stop seeing the shock and pain on Rach’s face when I told her to drop it.
I’m the one who takes that look off her face, not the one who puts it there. I’m not one of those guys she dates, the ones she has zero chemistry with who use her and then dump her like she’s nothing. That’s not me. I would never hurt her, yet I let myself get so wound up, I did just that.
There’s only one way to relieve the stress and tension.
And it’s the thing I’m best at.
I’m good with numbers and managing portfolios, but when it comes right down to it, jerking off seems to be my true calling.
I make these people happy, and I get a release.
It’s a win-win.
As long as I don’t think about what I’m doing.
As long as I’m HRD4U and not Flynn.
I reach down and grasp my cock, letting it harden in my hand before I log on and hit the button that will send an alert to all those who have signed up to let them know I’m live.
Standing in front of the computer, my abs and dick fill the entire screen. Almost instantly, the little icon in the corner that shows the number of viewers ticks up.
Five.
Ten.
Thirty.
Eighty.
One hundred and twenty-two.
Three hundred.
Four hundred and twenty-one.
A good number for a Sunday night.
“Good evening, ladies. And gentlemen.” I never want to leave out a big part of my viewers. “Tonight, I thought we’d take a nice long, hot shower to unwind after a tiring weekend.”
Oh, my God.
You didn’t reply to my PM. Did you see it?
Yes, get wet for us.
I would love to shower with you. Are you sure I can’t come join?
How about a double-feature tonight?
At least I’m putting a smile on someone’s face today. It’s a minor consolation for the day I’ve had, but I’ll still take it. It may be the only one I get for a while.
“I know all of you would love to have an opportunity to come experience this”—I grab my cock and shake it gently—“live, but unfortunately, you’re going to have to settle for the show.”
Boo.
That sucks.
Don’t leave us hanging.
I chuckle as I stroke myself with one hand and slide open the glass door to the shower with the other. “Have no fear, I would never leave anyone hanging. I’ll make sure you get a good show tonight.”
With the computer angled toward the shower, they won’t miss a second.
The hot spray hits my skin, and I release a sigh. “Do you folks want to hear what I would do if you were here with me right now?”
Through the glass, I can still make out the responses.
Yes!
Oh, my God, dirty talk! Tell us!
Tell us what’s in that filthy head of yours.
Talking myself through it helps me visualize the real thing. The real thing I’ve been fantasizing about for so long, I can’t even remember a time it wasn’t in my head.
Rachel.
Always her.
“On your knees, babe. I want to see that filthy, hot, wet mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”
A vision of Rachel under the cascade of water fills my head. Rivulets flowing over her breasts. Down her stomach. Disappearing between her legs.
Her bright-green eyes shine up at me as she opens her mouth eagerly. I shove past her soft, pink lips and down her throat. She moans around my hard flesh, the vibration almost making me come on the spot.
I close my eyes and let out a strangled groan as I use my free hand to steady myself against the tile. “Fuck, yes! Make that noise again.”
Long, hard strokes.
The continued sensation from her soft moans and the glide of her tongue along the underside of my dick.
The water surging over us.
Steam enveloping us, giving her an almost ethereal look even down on her knees.
A slow tingle starts at the base of my spine.
“Suck my cock, baby. Make me come. Take it.”
Small, soft hands grip my ass and tug me toward her. She swallows me even deeper until the base of my dick presses against her lips and the head rubs against the back of her throat.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God. Yes, keep going. Deeper. Swallow my fucking cock.”
She complies and swallows, her throat moving and rippling along my length. I withdraw, and she sucks in a deep breath. Her hand slips from my ass to grip the base of my erection and squeezes with every stroke while she sucks harder with her mouth. She works me higher and higher. Drags me closer and closer. Then she deep-throats me again.
Jesus.
“Yes, babe, I’m gonna come.” My hips thrust forward aggressively, fucking her face, making her gag on my cock. “Swallow every fucking drop. Take it all.”
Take all of me. As if you don’t already have it…
A wave of ecstasy rolls through me, and I can practically feel the muscles of her throat contracting around my dick as I empty myself into her.
RACHEL
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave slamming into the beach only a few miles away. A massive explosion of pleasure coursing through my veins, settling in my limbs, shattering my body, and leaving me spasming.
Holy hell.
I lie back against my bed and force open my eyes to watch the aftermath of HRD4U’s cataclysmic release perfectly timed with mine.
God.
His dirty talk is like throwing gasoline onto a raging fire. And I have had one burning for a long time. Hiding what I really want in a partner is more frustrating than I ever imagined it could be. All the nice guys I date can never measure up, and I was too afraid to ask them what I wanted for fear of losing the relationships I had.
But this guy…
My mouth salivates, thinking about being in the shower with him, having his cock rammed down my throat, tasting his cum as I swallow down every drop.
Salty.
Sweet.
Imagining his hard muscles rippling under my fingertips has them itching to touch him in real life.
My clit throbs, hyper-sensitive after my orgasm yet craving more.
I would touch and lick and kiss every inch of that man.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And something tells me he would do the same.
He’s not just a taker. He’s a giver. Something about the way he talks to the viewers—even with the electronically distorted voice—elicits a sense of calm, like he’s everyone’s best friend and an incredibly caring man.
Who would be the perfect lover.
At least in my head.
In real life, he probably has some major fault—they all do. Perfect men only exist in pornos and romance novels. They don’t live in Redondo Beach, California.
Is it really so much to ask?
Although, even if there were one here, how would I ever find him?
I can’t exactly advertise what I like. Not only would I be fired if the parents found out their kids’ kindergarten teacher is a closet freak, but it would also invite sick weirdos into my life instead of sweet, decent guys who know how to talk dirty and have superb fucking abilities. The two co-existing is such a unicorn that I’m convinced it can’t happen in real life.
One experience in college, one amazing night with a dirty-talking, spanking, hard-fucking guy from that frat, changed my life. Without that, I would never know what was missing now.
Why did he have to be so damn good?
I’ve been ruined for “ordinary” sex ever since. I might as well accept that I’ll spend the rest of my life alone watching HRD4U with B.O.B. rather than coming on some perfect man’s cock.
Pathetic.
But it’s my life. And after the sort-of argument I had with Flynn today, I needed something to make me feel better.
He’s never snapped at me like that. Never pushed me out and completely shut down. It was the first time in all our years of friendship when I’ve felt like he was hiding something from me, something that might be important.
Maybe he thinks I’ll be jealous if he has a secret girlfriend, or that I’ll be mad at him for not telling me about her right away.
I wouldn’t be, though. Not really. Not if she makes him happy.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, and tonight I needed to forget about the argument. To forget the weirdness of today. To be happy, even for a few minutes.
HRD4U was the only one who came to mind who would do that.
That’s even more pathetic.
Sitting home alone, watching internet porn…
How did my life come to this?
The comments on-screen come fast and furious, like he and I just did.
HRD4U! That was so hot.
Oh my God!
I would suck your dick!
Can I please come over? We can do this for real.
I read while I wait for my heart rate to return to normal. It continues to thunder against my ribcage staring at the mysterious man with the perfect six-pack and muscles so hard and tight they look like a Roman statue.
HRD4U slowly grabs a bottle of shampoo, and his hands disappear, presumably up to his hair. Not being able to see him from the collarbone up makes it difficult to know for sure, but every little movement sends his rock-hard muscles rippling. With the water cascading over his skin and the steam floating up around him, it’s like a damn wet dream come to life.
God, the man is well-built.
Beautiful body.
Beautiful dick.
And he’s so damn nice and down to Earth with the women who watch him. He treats them respectfully, doesn’t make sleazy comments, or take any of them up on their offers of sex—at least, that’s what he says.
He seems like a genuinely good guy, and he’s single, too, according to the comments he’s made.
I guess good guys—and girls—do finish last and have to pretend to be good always. At least if they want to keep up appearances and maintain their jobs. Both things that are, unfortunately, necessary for me, which doesn’t leave me a lot of options. So, HRD4U is the plan for now, and for as long as it takes to find the perfect man.
My eyes follow every movement as he grabs a bar of soap, lathers it, and massages it over his body…slowly and deliberately.
Chiseled chest.
Bulging biceps.
Washboard abs.
That damn V thingy that makes my knees weak.
Then down over that magnificent dick that’s already hardening again.
The man knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s a master at it.
His hand wraps around his cock, now slick with soap, and he moans.
“Well, ladies, who’s ready for round two?”
He strokes himself slowly from root to tip, rolling his palm against the head.
I grab my vibrator from where it fell between my legs and fire it back up. If he’s going again, so will I. Maybe five or six times.
Just remembering how goddamn hot this all was will be enough to keep me going all night, even after he logs off.
But before I start up again, I reach over with one hand and type out the first comment I have ever made on any of HRD4U’s videos.
INEEDSOMED
Why don’t men like you exist in real life? Why is it so hard to find a nice guy who can talk filthy and fuck dirty? If you know where to find one, I want one. So please, let me know. I’d appreciate any help I can get.
6
FLYNN
If I have to stare at this screen full of numbers much longer, I’m going to throw my computer off this damn desk. I pinch the bridge of my nose and rub at my tired, aching eyes.
“Be a stockbroker,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said.
Well, it sure as hell isn’t like it is in the movies. No lavish parties with overflowing champagne. No yachts with dozens of beautiful models throwing themselves at you. No mansion and expensive car.
I’m not rolling in the dough, and in this economy, neither are my clients. All the red on these portfolios gives me a migraine, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the distortion creeping into the edges of my vision.
Maybe if I don’t look at it, then it won’t be true. But when I open my eyes again, the same numbers taunt me like angry little assholes.
No one saw this coming. No one could have predicted the way the market tanked over the last year. I know I’m not the only one who lost money—their own or their clients’—but it doesn’t make me feel any better when I have to explain that this is a part of the deal if they’re going to play the market.
It’s a gamble. One that could make you millions or put you in the doghouse. My personal losses necessitated HRD4U in the first place, but my clients don’t have the luxury of becoming someone else for a while to make extra cash. Most of them have businesses, important jobs, mortgages, wives, and kids…
Things that a lot of people lost when their portfolios ended up in the shitter. And it doesn’t look much better now than they did six months ago. The only hope on the horizon is the rumor that the Federal Reserve may be making an interest rate cut soon. But with the government, we never know if it’s all bullshit or if it will really happen.
It would mean a nice surge in a lot of portfolios, including my own. Not enough to make HRD4U unnecessary, but it would be something. And for clients with larger investments than my own, it could mean millions.
A knock on my door has me jerking out of my pity party. Dan leans against the jamb with a knowing grin and his sandy-blond hair a disheveled mass instead of slicked back in perfect placement like usual. He looks like he may be having the same type of day I have had. “Does your Monday suck as much as mine?”
I nod and shove my office chair away from my desk with a groan. “How could you tell?”
He chuckles and holds up his hands. “Lucky guess.”
Or I look as shitty as I feel.
I glance at the clock on the far wall. It’s only 4:30, but I can’t stay for another hour. Not after the weekend I had. Not after my fight or non-fight whatever the hell it was with Rachel.
My meltdown.
That’s probably the most accurate description.
Dan hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “You want to get out of here and grab a drink?”
A drink or five…
I wouldn’t normally be going out for drinks on a Monday night, but a cold beer or nice whiskey or bourbon sounds pretty good right now. “Yeah. Actually, that sounds awesome.”
With a heavy sigh, I push out of my chair and lean over my desk to shut down my computer, letting the numbers that have given me so much grief over the last few months vanish—at least until I get in tomorrow and have to deal with them again.
I follow Dan out to the hall, and we weave through the central secretarial cubicles on our way to the elevators.
“Mr. McAllister?”
I grimace at the sound of my name coming from Darlene’s lips, but I turn back to her with a forced smile. “Yes?”
She waves a stack of pink message slips at me. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed earlier, but you have a few messages.”
Not wholly unexpected, given the fact that I’ve been shut away in my office all day without taking any calls. Though I don’t want to know the answer, I need to ask all the same. “Anything urgent?”
She bites her lip and glances toward Marty’s office, but with his door shut, there’s no way the boss can hear whatever she’s about to tell me. “I wouldn’t say it’s urgent per se, but Dustin Kelly called again, right before lunch.”
“Shit.” I glance at Dan, who gives me a sympathetic look.
He’s heard all about my issues with Mr. Kelly over the last few months, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about him again.
“Did he leave any specific message this time?”
Darlene shakes her head. “Just that he wants to talk to you.”
I run a hand through my hair and groan. “I don’t know what the hell he expects me to say?”
All he does is rant about how much money he lost like there’s anything I can do about that. There are only so many times I can explain it to him and have it go in one ear and out the other. There are no guarantees in this business, and that was made clear.
Darlene twists her hands together and shifts uncomfortably. “I know, sir, that’s why I didn’t interrupt you with his call.”
I pat her on the shoulder in an attempt to help assuage some of the dismay on her face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with him…”
Eventually.
But not today. I don’t have it in me today. Hopefully, by the middle of the week, I’ll have the energy to tolerate another tongue-lashing from Dustin Kelly.
Darlene glances between Dan and me. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah.” Thank God. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I follow Dan to the elevators and lean against the back wall of the cab as we descend. The steady motion and slight rock of the elevator only makes me more tired. I drop my head back against the metal behind me and squeeze my eyes shut.
It does nothing to help quell the ache building in my head.
Dan leans next to me. “So, Kelly still giving you shit?”
“Yeah. And a few others.” I open my eyes and glance at him. “I really wish people understood that when we warn them about high-risk stocks, we mean it.”
