Asking for a Friend

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been fifty five days since my last confession. I have broke the law, had sex out of wed-lock, and have partook in drugs. It was a good time." 

Only one Catholic church is in the surrounding area of Pinch, West Virginia. I try to make it a point to drop in for confessional often, but I have greatly lacked in the faith department. The deacon is surely disappointed. Although I understand his death combined with losing my home has molded my personality, I do not think it has made me a bad person. My libido required everything Sebastian is. Improvement is needed of course, but living me is most imperative.

I wish to understand the psychology behind sex. What is programmed in our brains that make it exciting for certain events to make our heart race or our libido jump? To learn why thoughts of my unlocked cell phone surrounded by traffic inserts a little 'umph' in my panties. Teaching a Sunday school class added joy to my life and doubling that joy in a raunchy way is something simply out of my control. Is it that others will know I had sinful intercourse, thus painting that scene in their brain every time they see or think about me? Imagining another person viewing me in a sexy situation, full filing my desires and rights as a human being, living life the greatest way, with love and an active, dirty, exciting, mind blowing sex, Sebastian comes to my mind. Sebastian, my greatest pleasure in life to date, Sebastian my lust, Sebastian my cherished best friend, Sebastian my love, Sebastian my unicorn. I do feel as if I am the cliche, luckiest gal in the world. I do not want another person to have what I have with Sebastian. It would surely be my demise. It feels as if every one of those people are jealous. I feel beautiful, popular, and in a sense, above them. Feeling emotions this way is new, but rewarding. If feels wrong and condescending. 

Brynlee is a close second to the greatest person in my life. She is everything Sebastian is, minus the intercourse. When Brynlee asks me how I am, she is genuinely concerned for my well being. Ever since I have been focusing my efforts on Sebastian, I slacked in panty slinging with Preston. Nor do I want to. It turned into a lucrative business, however, it holds hands with the dope. I am a happier person off drugs and on cock. I have not mentioned Anne's whore ass to Sebastian yet, although I crave the words to come out of his mouth debunking any desire he may carry. I do not crave the feeling my body experiences when her ugly face gets plastered in my mind. The odd sensation that buzzes through my senses was sickening. I most definitely do not want the emotions of my boyfriend with another woman to be inside me. Forgetting my troubles for now, I turn my attention and get lost in Brynlee's latest triste. "We failed to get home before getting down to it. Making out while he was driving nearly killed us, so I unzipped his fly and freed his willy. My mouth was on his big poppa thirty seconds before he had to pull over and cum! The sexiest thing I witnessed a man do was pull me into the back seat, lift up my dress and go down on me. We couldn't fit in his tiny car, so the door was open and half his body was hanging out with my legs draped over his shoulders, cars driving by and everything. But, in some weird way, it excited me more and my orgasm was intense. Does that make sense?" A look of approval on my face, I responded quickly. "Absolutely. Getting caught or having an audience amplifies our excitement. I know just what you are talking about."  "I rode his cock after, on the truck of the car."  I looked at Bryn's face in shock now, my blue eyes very wide. "Yeah..." Brynlee said in response with a slight grin on her face. "I will do it again too. It was an experience I will never forget." Good for her. I wish I could instill that thought process into everyone. Before leaving I excused myself to the rest room. Her laundry basket caught my eye. I couldn't help leaving with a few of her dirty gussets to save me time.

My adrenaline was pumping when I rolled up on Preston at his filthy trailer. Anne's beater wasn't in sight, forcing my mind to wonder what the loser was doing. Being a mother or working a job wasn't an option. "Where is your whore girlfriend?" Was the first thing out of my mouth. Preston rolled his eyes and set the hammer he was using down on a cooler. "Grow up already, Liz. She isn't a whore, she isn't my girlfriend either." He took another hit off his cigarette shaking his head. "I haven't spoken to her in a couple days. Not really. She is short when I do hear from her. Spending time with her daughter is what she is doing and that is what she needs to be doing. Not getting caught up in this bull shit life we are living." I immediately felt my blood boil. "We?! You dragged me into this bull shit mess of a life! I was grieving for my husband and just lost my home!"  Smiling at the ground, I knew Preston was about to ream me hard. Not the good way. "You know what, Elizabeth? You can stand there in your Calvin Klein dress and Jimmy Choo shoes and pretend you are better than me, but the whole world sees you are not! You were selling your pussy juice stained panties before you ever crawled into my living room looking for comfort! I don't care if you deny, deny, deny, I know you came here that night looking for a dick to ride! Judge me with your holier-than-tho attitude, but you came here for dope and to be a bitch! You're a bitch, Liz! And a bit of a whore!" Stunned, I was speechless for a moment. He resumed his place fixing the shutters that most likely fell off from time. Finally I found my voice again and gave it right back to him, only louder.

"Fuck you."  Preston turned around to look me in my face, his eyes round and his hands shaking a bit. "What did you say?" Oh, you need me to be louder? Okay! "Fuck you! Fuck you, Preston! Claim again that you are a friend! A friend would try to remedy a problem, not invent one! Pushing that pipe in my mouth was the worst thing a friend could do! So, fuck you!" Preston's hammer went flying across the yard and his stride picked up as he came closer, finger pointing right at my face. "Fuck me? Fuck you, Elizabeth! I had compassion for you when your husband died and you lost your home. This is how I live my life and you came to me. You are an adult and make your own choices. I shouldn't have to censor what I say or my actions around you because your life is hard. You are a judgybitch!"  Turning, he spit the built up saliva incurred from his tantrum and looked back in my eyes, with his eyes now wild. His sclera seemed to disappear and darkness from anger appeared. I didn't care though. I was angry and I had to take it out on somebody. "You mess with the wrong kind of people that will always bring you down. Keep you down and not motivate you. I'm sure there were more before that skank, Torie. I was hoping with her gone you would have a different outlook on life and want better than her. Nope! You hop on to the next dope whore who fucks her way to any resources for life!" Preston laughed an angry, unbelievable laugh, his head shaking. He was still looking at the ground when he started to speak again.   

"Elizabeth, I will say it once more. Anne is not a whore, you're jealous. If you do not like her then maybe we shouldn't be business partners."  Before I could expel the words to rebuttal his ridiculous sentences, we were interrupted by bass of a car stereo system. Casually looking in the direction of the trailer next to his, we both did a double take as we watched Anne's car pull up. But the driver was not Anne. Fixing her frizzy, 80's style band hair, the woman in the driver's seat was oblivious to any surrounding. She was also oblivious to the very angry, embarrassed, Anne that sprinted from the trailer door to her own car. Anne knew better than to look our way. Although she tried to eliminate the seconds of our eyes on her, Preston and I both witnessed Mrs. Slut of the Year, doing the walk of shame. The oldsmobile noisily found its way out of the gravel path to the main road as Anne slouched down in the seat as much as possible. Letting the noise from her car diminish, Preston looked at me defeated. In that moment I felt sympathy for him. He didn't speak so it was up to me to break the awkward silence. "So...when you're hanging out with someone, but you're not official, but you're sleeping with them, it is an unspoken rule that you don't sleep with anyone or fuck their neighbor right? Asking for a friend."


Own My Gussets

Own My Gussets
What Tickles Your Fancy