Filthy Sluts

  FILTHY SLUTS

  By

  Laran Mithras

  Background by DepositPhotos.com

  Filthy Sluts is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 - All Rights Reserved

  “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.”

  ~ John 8:36

  CHAPTER 1

  The man pointed at his erection. “Cock. Mouth. Now.”

  The phone trembled in my shaking hands. “Gwen, are you—”

  My friend looked up at me, the man’s cock in her grip. “Just hit the record button, okay?” Her wedding ring sparkled with accusation from where it rested on the man’s sexual shaft.

  Panic, fear, and guilt wracked me.

  This is wrong.

  Gwen was my friend and she was married to a great guy. Chris was a lawyer, too. When he found out, he’d sue everybody. I didn’t even know this guy’s name and I was standing in the presence of his nakedness.

  Then Gwen shocked me so much I almost dropped her phone. “Just record, okay? Chris will want to see this.” Then her mouth touched the tip of the man’s erection. But she pulled off. “Are you recording this?”

  My thumb hit the button three times before I got it right and the red light came on. “Okay, okay.” My lips were numb, though, and I was in a daze. “Fine, go.”

  I watched in horror as her lips opened and moved over the head of the man’s cock. Of course, I had done such things before to my husband, but the shock of it all was my Christian friend doing it to the friend of a friend and practically a stranger. Gwen and her husband Chris were members of our church, Trinity Christian Fellowship.

  This was so… un-Christian.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  How could she throw her marriage away? And she was going to show her husband? Why? To start a divorce?

  Dizziness swept my head away from rational thought. I was on my first social outing with Gwenifer Redenbaugh, cute, spunky, 32, and frizzy blonde – filled with sparkles and enthusiasm… She had sung hymns next to me in church a few weeks past where we had become acquainted. Her effort at Blow the Trumpet in Zion rang in my memory as being filled with fervor and faith. She had an inner energy that dwarfed mine and drew me to her as sure as a magnet sucked in metal.

  And… I stood here watching her mouth move back and forth on this guy’s dick. I didn’t even know his name.

  Did she?

  The man sure liked it. He leaned his head back and moaned. His hand caressed her hair and head.

  Guilt raged within me, convicting me as surely as if my own lips were… doing the act. I needed a shower, a baptism, and fasting to ever hope of forgetting what was happening here.

  I felt worse when she paused in looking up at him and looked over at me. Was she looking at me or the phone? Which was worse? It was bad enough I was forced to see it, but the sounds of her lips on his shaft – the wet sliding, the quiet smacks, his moans – made me feel as if I were participating in filthy porn.

  Sin.

  Big sin.

  Bad sin.

  Gwen was married. Committing adultery or worse… or something. This wasn’t just backsliding; she had been eager to suck this guy’s cock.

  She pulled her mouth off his shaft and pumped it with her fist. “So… what’s your name again?”

  “Branden. You’re… Gwynn?”

  “Gwen.”

  “A friend of Joel’s?”

  “Yep.”

  “Keep sucking.”

  Gwen sucked his shaft back into her mouth with a giggle.

  He said, “Did you meet him at Trinity?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  I felt shocked and nauseated. Trinity Christian Fellowship was a good church, filled with the spirit, and above such associations. But I was in for more rude insinuations.

  He said, “I… uh… stopped going about a year back.” He shrugged as if trying to remove a burden. “I don’t know. Got busy. I should go back.”

  I almost dropped the phone again. This man was a Christian? Had gone to Trinity? I felt the stain of sin sink into my skin. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  Gwen had said something. “Andrea? Are you getting this?” Her hand was pumping rapidly. Her lips were wet. She was looking up at me and the phone. “Andrea?”

  I snapped, “What? Yes.”

  “Good.” She focused on his cock again, pumping it with effort and causing the man to gasp.

  I looked around, but doubted anyone would see us between the cars – although the fear remained.

  Morbidly, I watched her jack Branden’s dick. Even just holding the phone like this surely was considered participation? How could I ever tell my husband? Would any amount of prayer wipe this away?

  Gwen swirled her tongue around the helmet and looked up at him.

  Branden groaned and jerked. Cum erupted from his cock in a stream, coating Gwen’s forehead and cheek. Another spattered her nose. More spurts, but weaker, added to the mess on her face. Some dripped down and darkened her blouse.

  I gulped in horror.

  Gwen smiled up at Branden, then at her phone I held. She ran a finger through some of the mess and then licked it off in a show for the phone. “Nothing like a good facial…”

  Disgusted and fed up, I handed the phone to her and walked quickly away. I had done her the favor she had asked; I had recorded it for her for whatever sick purposes she had.

  I had to get away.

  Surely God would see I had turned my back on it.

  Footsteps ran up behind me. “Hey.”

  I turned to her. “How could you do such a thing?” My question was a mixture of anxiety, accusation, angst, and anger.

  She shrugged. “It’s just a thing. It was fun.”

  “Why did you have me record it?”

  She giggled, cum still on her face. “Because Chris challenged me to do it.”

  I stood there in the parking lot of the Sky Lounge and dropped my mouth open. “He what?”

  She took my arm. “He challenged me to do it.” She led me towards the door.

  “Yeah, I heard that part. What does that mean?”

  Gwen sniffed. “It’s a game we play. Tonight’s challenge was to have a friend record me blowing some guy.”

  “Chris asked you to do this?” I pulled her to a stop. “We can’t go in there; your face is a mess.”

  She sighed and dug in her purse for some tissue. She began wiping.

  I said, “That’s not going to get it all.”

  “I’ll dip into the bathroom and get the rest. Then we’ll have a little chat.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to be involved in any chat, but there were many questions unanswered.

  We went inside and I blushed as she ducked into the bathroom.

  Had anyone seen?

  CHAPTER 2

  Gwen came out a moment later, looking cleaner. However, her blouse was still darkened with cum spatters.

  I pointed. “Your blouse is stained. Everyone’s going to notice.”

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm. She pulled me towards the bar. “No one cares, Andrea. No one.”

  I blurted out, “God does.”

  My friend sighed with exasperation. She ordered us two daiquiris at the bar. When the bartender moved away, she leaned in close to me. “No, God does not.”

  “How can you say that? You committed adultery a few minutes ago—”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You had sex with another man. That’s adultery in my book.”

  “Adultery is when a man steals another man’s wife. Chris knows all about this and gave his permission; therefore, it can’t be adul
tery.”

  Although it felt wrong, technically, she was right. “But—”

  “There are no buts in this.”

  I folded my hands together primly and tried to sit as if we were just waiting for someone. I looked down at my hands and not at her. While she had drawn me into a fast friendship with her, what had happened tonight was beyond me.

  She laid a hand on my arm. “Andrea…”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve asked…”

  “Should have? Why would you even do something like this? Chris likes this kind of thing?”

  “It’s just sex. It’s fun. What’s the harm in it?”

  “Marriage is between one man and one woman—”

  She sniffed. “I didn’t marry the guy; I blew him.”

  “That’s sin.”

  She made a dismissive noise with her mouth. “Like hell it is. God didn’t make sexy parts to be wrong or not be used.”

  “Sex is only supposed to be between husband and wife.”

  “That’s not exactly true.”

  “It sure is in the Bible.”

  Gwen leaned back and accepted the drinks. She slid one to me. After the bartender moved away again, she said, “God didn’t have any problem with the patriarchs using prostitutes or men having concubines or husbands having more than one wife.”

  I couldn’t argue that. I sipped through the straw and rested my forehead on my palm. “But you’re a good Christian—”

  “I hope so…”

  “How… Why…” I couldn’t form any coherent question.

  She bent her head down, stretching her neck to relieve tension. “I work in a morgue, Andrea…”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know how numb I’ve gotten seeing dead people every day? Being up in their dead, lifeless faces combing their hair and applying make-up?” She took a vicious pull on her straw. The daiquiri in the glass sank an inch. “Their flesh is so cold - colder than room temperature. I crave heat. I love the feel of excitement: my beating heart; the hot pulse of a man’s cock in my hand—”

  “Gwen!” I looked around, horrified.

  “Don’t be such a prude, Andrea.” She toyed with her glass. “Anyway, at the end of the week, sometimes I just want to collapse and let a hot guy bang me all night into utter exhaustion.”

  I struggled to reconcile how I was making allotments for her job. “Can’t Chris do that? Is there some kind of problem—”

  “No, there’s no problem. Chris loves me. He’s happy when I’m happy. He’s… proud of me, I guess. Or so he says. He likes to show me off and wants me to have fun.”

  “Including that atrocity we committed in the parking lot?”

  Branden suddenly poked between us and kissed Gwen’s cheek. “By the way, that was fun. Thanks.”

  I yelped and leaned backwards.

  Gwen smiled hopefully at him.

  He shrugged and asked, “You two busy or expecting someone? We could go back to my place and party a little.”

  My friend actually looked happy. But then she looked at me and her face fell.

  I caught it, knowing I was the anchor slowing her down. It made me feel useless and dumb.

  Gwen murmured, “Raincheck?”

  Branden said, “Sure. Trade numbers?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  They tapped and exchanged phones, then handed them back after trading entries.

  She said to him with a twist of her mouth, “Girl talk…”

  Branden lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Gotcha. You two have a nice night. I’ll text ya.”

  She winked at him.

  I remained silent, feeling as if my cleanliness was at risk just sitting so near all the sin.

  Gwen sniffed.

  I said, “You sniff a lot.” It was the only accusation I could throw at her that she couldn’t defend. It instantly made me feel better – and petty at the same time.

  Except that she defended it easily. “Sorry… the chemicals at the morgue… ugh. All the formaldehyde and—”

  “Sorry.”

  “I think it ruined my sense of smell.”

  “Why don’t you get other work?” So you don’t have to have wild sex for relief?

  “It pays very well. How many out of work beauticians do you see?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “A lot. They spend the five grand to get their certificate from the beauty academy and they think they’re going to make a million dollars. Except the city is flooded with them. No way am I giving up my job.”

  “Would you really have gone off with Branden back to his place?”

  “Yeah…” She sucked down more of her drink. “Some other time.”

  “What about Chris?”

  “My husband would tell me to have fun.”

  I asked with all the uncertainty I felt, “Are you serious?”

  She laid a hand on my arm again now that there was no man between us. “Quite.”

  “But what if the guy wanted to have sex?”

  “My husband would be perfectly okay with that and he’d most definitely relish all the details when I got home later.”

  I drank my daiquiri. I had heard some of the churches in town had strange sexual shenanigans going on. “Are you one of those swappers?”

  Gwen’s face froze. “What’s wrong with swapping? If everyone agrees…?”

  “It’s sinful.”

  “It is not. Nothing in the Bible says ‘thou shalt not swap wives.’ It isn’t in there.”

  “But everybody knows—”

  Her hand tightened on my arm. “You haven’t been listening to Pastor Truscott, have you?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “You’re picking your sin.”

  “What?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “You’ve chosen sex to dwell on—”

  “I’m not dwelling on it; I’m just conscious of it to avoid it.”

  She plucked at my sweater. “Poly cotton?”

  I shifted on the barstool. “I think. Sure.”

  “Sin.”

  “What?”

  Gwen sniffed and then shook her head. “You really haven’t been listening to his sermons, have you?”

  I blushed.

  She shook her head. “Diverse fibers are a sin to God. Leviticus nineteen. While you’re busy sucking a lemon over my sex – which isn’t specifically forbidden by God – you’re directly committing sin by wearing mixed fibers.”

  I sat back stunned, though a tickle of memory told me I had heard Pastor Truscott mention it before. Whatever the truth, I knew I didn’t have firm ground here to argue with her. In addition, an inkling of interest formed inside me that pushed away the horror. Maybe, just maybe, if she was right…

  Of course, I would hold final judgment until I could confirm things. In the meantime, I let my curiosity burn a little brighter. “So… your husband approves of all this?”

  She studied me for a moment with her sparkling blue eyes from under her frizzy bangs. Her expression softened a little. “Yes, very much so. He says the naughtier I am, the more he loves me. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  She gave me a playful look. “I want to find out just how much I can make him love me.”

  I laughed, relieved that maybe – just maybe – I was wrong and she might be right. If she was, color me intrigued. “And here I thought you were an innocent little girl.”

  Gwen huffed in mock indignation. “I’m not that much younger than you.” She was 32 to my 36. “Anyway… innocent? Sure, in a Christian way. But sexually? Very naughty. My husband and I are just good at hiding it from others. People like you.”

  I didn’t want to be excluded like that, but the feeling of stain still held a little sway over me. I wasn’t sure whether I should jump over the fence and agree with her or maintain a sense of stern disapproval for the sin she had committed.

  But if it wasn’t sin?
br />   I pondered it while I finished my drink. I couldn’t argue with her specifics, but it still just felt wrong. I said so.

  “Because you’ve been told over and over it was without any scriptural backing. But how many times have you heard about mixed fibers?”

  “Only a few times…”

  “There’s the issue. Hear something often enough, you begin to believe it. Meanwhile, the truth gets buried.”

  She was upsetting my sense of equilibrium because I could not for the life of me put up any kind of argument against the specifics of what she was saying. “I had heard… there were some people at Trinity who…” I didn’t want to say “did bad things” knowing that I had no firm ground on which to stand. I would have to remedy that later – and I would. I’d ask the pastors at Trinity.

  Gwen lifted her chin and peered at me. “There are many at Trinity who think like I do. Not all. Maybe not the majority. But everyone has their kinks.”

  I don’t. All I had was guilt. “Tommy would never…”

  “I’m sure you haven’t asked him.”

  I could not imagine my husband being approving of sex like Chris.

  She said, “My husband calls me a hotwife.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A married woman who enjoys sex with other men.”

  A tingle tickled me and I tried to ignore it. “But that’s … No, wait, forget it. Forget I was about to say sin.”

  Gwen sniffed and smiled at me knowingly. “I love God with all my heart.”

  She stumped me into silence. There was a truth there I wasn’t seeing – an easy connection I was missing.

  I was definitely going to talk to the pastors over this.

  CHAPTER 3

  “How was your night out?” Tommy grinned at me.

  I was defensive from being immediately put on the spot over what had happened. I didn’t want to admit to him that my very first outing with Gwen had involved her blowing some guy who had gone to our church. I snapped, “Fine, why?”

  He became subdued instantly, but his expression was tense. “Sorry, was just asking. I was rather hoping you two would get along and have fun.”

  I went to him and gripped his bicep. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” I knew I couldn’t hold completely back. “It’s just that she has some strange ideas about having fun.”