Patrick M. Ohana
Bio
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
Stories (491/0)
Mobile Pussy
I was tired of his musings. Your pussy this and your pussy that. What a prick! I was basically a mobile pussy for him. He wanted to fuck me all the time. What the fuck! What a prick! It was good and hard, and pretty. Nice balls, too. Two. Sorry, astronauts! What? Their balls shrink in space.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
I Took Her Inside
This story is hard to tell. I may need to skip some parts. Don’t worry! It won’t be the sex. It was too good to be left out. But before I start, just to set the mood, I want you to read the following haiku. You don’t have to. I left enough space to allow you to skip it. If I can skip some parts, so can you. Yet it’s only seventeen syllables long. Even a prick may be longer.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
Dirty Desert
My head was aching and my back hurting when I awoke. I was sore all over and I soon discovered why. I was lying on a cement floor in the middle of nowhere. Far on the horizon around me, I could trace something, but unlike the concreteness of the floor I was sitting on by now, it was quite unclear. I could not just stay there and ponder. I stood up, stretching and rubbing myself, trying to feel erect. “I must be in some weird dream,” I considered. “No!” I decided. “It is quite real; really strange.” After a while, standing and waiting took also the attire of nothingness. I went forward toward the unknown; the direction seemed somewhat consequential but mostly unimportant.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
They All Laughed
Some legend has it that one day — it was actually the middle of the night — most body organs were having a discussion as to which one of them was the most important part. Important how, some of us could ask? To life! But they are all important that way. Very true! But could any one organ, one singular part, or a part of a part, be crowned the king, or queen, of all parts? The optimum organ! The Don of organs!
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
New Names
On my way to Touch Me, I drove through a little town by the name of Look At Me, and as I expected, there was nothing to look at. In Hear Me, there was nothing to listen to; in Smell Me, even the smell of the New Industrial Revolution was lacking; and in Taste Me, tastelessness was quite evident. What happened to the world? Did we become madder? These questions followed by a string of successors ached in my brain, and when the answers seemed to have acquired a central theme, the pain seemed to have receded as well.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Fiction
What’s Up Pussy
Once upon a time in a somewhat rural town lived a prick whose name is unimportant. He decided it. Let’s call him, M, to at least allude to the subtitle. One evening as M was preparing his dinner, there was a knock at the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he looked through the side window and saw a woman, beautiful even through the glass and the anti-insect screen behind it. Surprised, he replied: How can I help you, Ms.?
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
Writing About Pussy
It’s (how should I type it) queer that writing about pussy, a lot about pussy, within a sexually-oriented story without ever even trying to imply that a woman is defined by her pussy, or as a pussy, raised some reading spirits. I may have on one occasion or two, but it was used ironically and it was funny. Unless the grass kicked in and I found everything funny. No! No! I reread it a few times and it was funny (I proofread at least twice to correct typos and exchange sounds and words).
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
The Position of Thanksgiving 2019
This festive Thanksgiving belonged to Mary, my girlfriend, I guess. We haven’t called it anything, yet. While petite, Mary proffers aplenty to recompense any apprehension pertaining to her amplitude. Of course, I don’t have any. How can I? She is perfect. A smaller woman is still intact and actually offers at least one advantage. I can lift Mary easily, even with my bad back, especially in one of our favourite positions. I guess it’s called the Standing 69 (I call it the Outstanding 69). I stand holding her with her pussy cemented to my face (I can also appreciate the vista of her anus), and my penis, pendulous, is in wait of her mouth and or hands. Being tall (over six feet or over 183 cm), she doesn’t reach my penis unless it’s erect, but then it’s rarely not.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
Marie, Mary, and Maria
I hate bananas. I digress already. Such a hand holding such a banana which had been kissed and then eaten in one way or another is another story. Let’s delve deeper and spread out into our story, my story of Marie, the French teacher, Mary the concierge (resident caretaker), and Maria the pornstar. You’ll understand that I only met two of the three, but the one that I didn’t still rocks my mind and everything else every other day.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy