Sinners Anonymous

Seven women sit in a dingy church basement circle, their names forgotten the second lust floods their blood. Christy, Kimmy, Hime, Madi, Vanessa, Victoria and Ember fire off filthy confessions one after another—free-use deals, sneaking twin masseurs while a girlfriend waits outside, every sin spilling hotter than the last. Their thighs grind together. Eyes flicker. Breathing gets raw. The moderator, Lucas, tries to steer them back to the script but the scent of slick sex already fills the room. They rise. They close in. Fingers yank at belts, lips graze his jaw, and every hesitation he once clung to cracks like thin ice. He’s the only man in the room, and they’re done pretending they came here to pray.