Most recently published stories in Filthy.
When This is All That's Left
The strobe lights rove over the dark walls, exposing neon words spray-painted onto the walls a millennium ago. Gang signs and slang that no one can even recognize anymore. A heavy bass drowns out the words--if there are any--to the song that is playing. Each thump of music reverberates throughout her entire being. Every pulse shakes a bit more of the settled ash and dust free. The air is cloudy, creating almost an ethereal glow to the club.
The Boy, The Man, and The Big City
The boy knew he was in a different element, a new city that for the first time in his life made him question everything about his existence, his convictions, his destiny. Could he perhaps have been so set in his ways that he was blinded as to where his destiny, his legitimate destiny, truly was? He contemplated this possibility as he sipped on the chocolate ice cream shake he so thoroughly enjoyed the first and second time he ordered it, and realized it was consistently enjoyable this third time, just like that big, new city where he felt like a small fish, but a happy fish.
Psychologist: The development law of female "sexual psychology" is that desire changes from spontaneous to passive
Today, sex is no longer a topic that makes people shy and dare not face. People actively talk about sexual experience and exchange sexual experiences, hoping to get sympathy for sexual activities from communication.
I was making my way across the bad lands when off in the distant I saw a vision of glory. It was a young woman. Her skin was bleached from the sun and the radiation of the area. She was lucky to be alive. I am called Zero. Because I am a big zero, I have not seen another living soul since the bombs dropped.
Summoning Her Perfect Man
There it was, the hill with the white horse. The tall grass swished against her skirt as she strode up the hill, following along the back of the horse until she got to its head. It felt wrong walking across its face, and even worse to stand on its eye, but Bethany was desperate.
Taking Control, Chapter III
The following was requested by a commissioner. This is an NSFW post that explores power dynamics, BDSM, degrading language, and CNC. The views expressed are not my own, and should not be taken as such. Reader discretion is advised.
How to Approach Casual Sex Without Acting Like a Douchebag
Having casual sex in today’s hook up culture can sometimes feel like you’ve committed to a bumper car ride at an amusement park. Strapped in on all fronts, you don’t drive as much as steer through a loud area filled with desire, mystery and potential suitors as you try to make it safely to the other side.
Lust for My Muse
Please note that there are three previous stories preceding this one (the links are in order below), but for once, you don’t have to read them before reading what follows given that this tale can stand on its own four legs, starting and ending with sex. Of course, there’s also much love, which is always needed when passion takes over every word and movement a woman and a prick can bare. I may include a short interlude somewhere in the middle.
The Skating Vixen
My Carolina Beach beach house looks like a big, pink box. I’m serious! It’s big, it’s square, and it’s as pink as my box. It’s such an awesome creative space, too. I’m on this sea green sofa with a cup of coffee and my MacBook writing my next smash hit short story while a dazzling sunrise shines on the mirrored sea outside my window.
A Dirty Graduation Gift
“You really are beautiful,” he whispered in his Dominican accent while taking off my panties. I took his face in my hands to kiss it as a gush of my cream trickled down his index finger.
Come Eat Me
Before I begin this story, please note that it continues Muse Love (the first part) and My Sexy Muse (the second). They are both linked at the bottom. But as you may have noticed, the title of this one isn’t as subdued, and sex is going to be everywhere in this tale, in every paragraph, and sometimes in every word. However, please remember that love and sex aren’t usually the same, word or action, especially the reaction. I love you versus I want to eat you. Which one is more promising? It depends on who’s telling whom. Let’s say it’s M saying it to his muse. I love you, my muse. She already knows. She always knew being a muse, who lives on the fucking Moon. Can you believe it? At least it’s not Mars. But still, be my heart! How far is the Moon? A whopping 384,400 km (238,906 miles). What the fuck?
Two Cocks for her Birthday
“Happy Birthday,” Xander whispered as he led May through the door of their hotel room. As her eyes adjusted to the low light she gasped.