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Most recently published stories in Filthy.
Sex story 8. Content Warning.
Our in-the-office affair now needs to be an out-of-office affair, we both agreed. Above all, it MUST survive our pending retirement as both our future happiness depends largely on how Clive’s actual wife and my very occasional guy view the situation, assuming I’d even bother to tell him, that is.
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
Worth the Wait Part1. Content Warning.
Part One : "Oh my God." Crystal quietly said to herself while sitting in the library. She kept having flashbacks about last month. It had literally been a month and she was still thinking about it. Everything still so vivid and fresh. These thoughts were seriously messing with her concentration though. It was all she could do to keep from touching her flower, which was dripping wet at this point. The more she tried to focus, the more she day dreamt, the wetter she became.
By Crystal Cane2 years ago in Filthy
Sex story 9. Content Warning.
“I’ll take a triple decker chocolate ice cream cone,” Greg said to the teenage boy in his cone hat working at the Frostie Freeze. “Three dollars,” the boy replied, bored. Greg set down the bills. “You’re really ripping us off, you know. Three dollars for one cone.” The boy in the odd hat shrugged and said nothing. Greg knew the price was steep but watching Karen made it worth every penny. He took his cone and met Wayne at the corner of the small ice cream stand. “She’s got a vanilla tonight,” Wayne said. “Man, just the way she licks that cone. If only she would …” “She’s got to be good at giving head,” Greg said. “Good? You mean great.” “I’ll upgrade my opinion when she finishes sucking my own dick.” “I never pictured her as giving head, on her knees,” Wayne said. “I considered her more a classic missionary, liking to be flat on her back and getting fucked hard.” “You think too much about her. How many years has she been in your dreams? Causing more wet socks than can be counted.” “Since junior high. Her tits just—bam!—popped out.” “So did her ass.” “Everything.” Wayne scooped out a spoonful of his chocolate sundae with nuts. “I bet she has caused more guys to you-know-what than any other girl. Combine all the fantasies of the other girls and the total would come to less than Karen alone.” Greg dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Got to say she’s done a lot in my dreams too. Someday it won’t be a dream.” “Come on, man. It ain’t gonna happen. That’s the real dream. You’re a dumbass if you believe it’s true.” “You talk about living by faith, but you don’t really believe, do you?” “Hey, I’d fuck Faith too.” “You know what I mean. But I agree about Faith. A little big for my taste. I’d taste her in case I’m wrong.” “So are you going to do something, make a move, to get Karen? You can’t stand back here and get laid. Your dick’s not long enough.” “How do know how long my cock is, dude?” “Shut up.” “I’m going to make my move,” Greg said. “Tonight?” Greg eyed Karen, who sat on one of the pink tables at the Frostie Freeze. “Tonight?” Wayne asked again. Greg inhaled deeply. “Yes, tonight. I got this. Just a couple of minutes to finish my cone.” He ate half of his ice cream in a single bite. “At the clubs, a guy buys the lady a drink. You going to buy her ice cream as your ‘in’?” Wayne said. “What would that convey to her, to buy her more ice cream?” “Yeah, you’re right. She might think you think she can put a lot of food away. A chowhound. Avoid the extra ice cream. How about a napkin? No,” he corrected himself immediately. “That might say you think she’s messy. Tough to get an ‘in’ with these girls.” Wayne ate another spoonful of his sundae. “I think the hardest part is her friends. All those eyes glaring at you as you come up to them. Then it’s easier to get talking to one of them and miss the one who you really want to talk to. Ugh, packs of girls. Is getting laid worth the effort?” “Sure as fuck it is,” Greg answered firmly. “The titties, the pussy, the things they can do with their hands and lips. Trust me, you need to get laid soon.” Greg slapped Wayne’s chest. “I’m going to get Karen now.” “I’ve gotten laid before, son,” Wayne called back faintly. But Greg had already left for Karen. Greg’s heart sped up as he walked to the pack of girls with his prize in the center of it. In his mind raced the many dreams, more so fantasies, he had had in which Karen was the star. “Greg, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long. Let’s go right now. Forget everyone else. You’re the only one I want. You’ve got my full attention. Tell me what you want me to do to you. I’m willing.” The thought jolted through Greg’s mind as he approached. He had to wash it away so he could make this a relatively normal guy-and-girl conversation at the Frostie Freeze. “Hi, Karen, hey everybody. What’s up tonight? Hanging out?” The stares of the girls, who had been interrupted from their chitter-chatter, hit him, slapped him in the chest. His cheeks warmed. He had to swallow. Why couldn’t she be alone? “Yeah, hanging out,” Karen replied dryly at the obvious question. The other girls studied the specimen that had approached their pink table. He felt their eyes run up his body. His gray loafers, thin legs, khaki shorts, pineapple-patterned button-up shirt, disheveled hair. He questioned his whole choice of clothes, his haircut, his style. “Pretty good ice cream here. I’ve been waiting all winter for this place to open,” he said. “We all have,” a fair-skinned girl said, answering instead of Karen. There was a pause. A moment’s pause may be quick, but, in that situation, it lasted forever. Greg wished he had never come over. He could have just dreamed about Karen. “Got any summer plans, Karen?” He specified this time who he was talking to. He didn’t care about the other girls’ plans. “Uh, a couple of trips, I guess,” she replied dryly. “You planning anything?” The group felt awkward with the strained talk between Karen and Greg. The other girls remained silent and looked on. “Wyoming, I think. To see the Rockies, the mountain range, not the baseball team.” He chuckled awkwardly and ended up laughing alone. “I know the difference. It’s the Colorado Rockies, not the Wyoming Rockies.” He couldn’t believe how badly things had gone in a moment’s time. Karen nearly broke Greg’s will to stand there. To the left, two girls giggled softly, then turned away to talk about something else. “I’d like to see the Rockies and the Rockies,” Faith interjected into the conversation that had soured. “You would?” asked Karen and Greg together. “Jinx! Buy me a soda,” Karen clamored to Greg. “I want a root beer float.” Greg was astounded. Faith broke the awkwardness, and now he was buying Karen something to drink. A true ‘in’.” Faith may have saved everything. “Come on, Faith. I’ll get you one too, if you want,” Greg said. “I had an ice cream cone already.” “Just get a small float,” Karen said. “I mean he’s paying for heaven’s sake.” She grabbed Faith’s hand and dragged her to the Frostie Freeze’s ordering window. Faith and Karen, with Greg, ate their floats at the picnic table and talked about the summer. Faith eased the tension so much and let the conversation continue smoothly. A few minutes later, Wayne came over. “Greg, I need to leave. Gotta get the car back. You coming with me?” Greg’s heart sank, disappointed. Things were getting good. Now Wayne’s curfew fouled up everything. “He can stay,” Karen interjected unexpectedly. “Greg, we’ll get you home tonight.” Greg smiled. “Well, Wayne, looks like I’m not coming with you tonight. I’m coming with Faith and Karen.” Wayne nodded and left, grinning. When he was gone, Karen leaned forward and raised her eyebrows. “You know, Greg, I got what you said to him. A bad subtle message.” “What do you mean? I would never …” Faith nodded at Greg too. “Pretty obvious, not as subtle as you thought.” Greg didn’t know what to say. That choked-up feeling tightened his throat again. “Look, Kay, he’s turned red. He’s all embarrassed,” Faith teased. “Like a poor puppy dog with his tail between his legs,” Karen added. “I bet he’s got a tail between his legs. You know what I mean?” She nudged Karen overtly. “I certainly do. Wink, wink. I wonder if it’s a big tail or a little one.” “Big or small, it’s a hard tail now. Well, poor doggie, is it?” Faith murmured like an old woman talking to her spoiled pet. Greg’s heart thumped fast, speeding faster than during basketball practice. His cock started to stiffen, like they had said, and was bent uncomfortably. It pointed down his thigh and toward the bottom of his shorts. He could have scrambled away in sheer embarrassment but opted to take a chance with overt flirting. “It’s a big tail, and it is hard.” He emphasized each word. “Faith,” Karen said, as if Greg wasn’t there, “I’ve learned to never trust what a guy says about his dick until he can prove it. Too many guys are liars. Or they don’t know how to use a tape measure.” “They lie to me too. They tell me it’s huge, and their dicks end up being puny wieners.” “Such a disappointment.” Karen brushed back her hair and dramatically rolled her eyes. “All I can do is lay there and feel nothing but the mattress bouncing up and down.” “Have our ‘toys’ ruined what we expect from a dick?” “Maybe. But I have a feeling deep down inside that Greg here may have what we’re looking for. Meaty, thick—” “I like a set of large balls that smack against my ass when the guy fucks me.” “Oh! And a huge head, like a strawberry, bulging, and red like he’s about to …” “Oh, yeah, that’s nice, very nice.” Karen touched Greg’s hand. He almost jerked it away. “Will you show us yours, Greg?” “Please?” Faith added, dramatically hopeful, tilting her head and pouting her lips. He countered their comments. “Girls tell me stuff too. I wonder if they’re telling the truth.” “Like what?” The girls answered together. “What they can do with their tongues, how tight they are.” The girls looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and then looked back to Greg. “A girl would never say that. If you ever do hear it though, trust a girl when she’s telling you those kinds of things,” Karen said. “Girls don’t lie like guys do. We’d rather prove it and leave it a secret. Secret for her and her lover to know. But we’re nice and tight, right, Faith?” A smile crossed Faith’s lips. “Test these lips. Both sets.” Greg was astounded at these girls, talking about all this. Bleep-bleep. The taillights and turn signal lights flickered on a red SUV parked nearby. And the engine ahemmed into a low growl. “Ready to go, Greg?” Karen giggled. “She means, ‘come’ with us,” Faith added. Karen drove with her hand at the base of the steering wheel. Faith relaxed in the passenger seat, and Greg rode in the back, his knees rubbing against the passenger seat. They rode in the luxury Land Rover in an awkward silence out of town. Greg’s mind was on what was ahead. The opportunity for a fuck made everything else pale, forgettable for Greg. Multiply that by having two girls and Greg wouldn’t have cared if he was sitting in the most expensive sports car. Nothing else mattered. The girls must be excited too, Greg thought, hoped. Greg got a quick glimpse of Faith moving her hand across her chest, like she was attempting to release the heat caught under her shirt. Karen had only one hand on the steering wheel. The other hand was out of sight. Seeing the girls, he had a strange thought. It would be a wild move, once in a lifetime. It could failure completely. He had no other choice. He unbuttoned his pants, undid his fly and slid his hand into his underwear. He felt his hardness cocked uncomfortably to the left. He shifted and happened to look up and see Karen’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Her eyes squinted. She reached up with her lost hand and bent the mirror down. Her eyes, which had smiled a moments before, now widened in surprise. “Greg, my god!” “What?” Faith shouted toward Karen. Greg didn’t answer Karen, and Karen didn’t answer Faith. Karen pulled the white Land Rover to the side of the road, and both girls turned toward the backseat. Greg was frozen in shock. He had exposed himself and had silenced two girls. He feared their silence was his death. Their stunned faces slowly lightened up. Faith again broke the odd silence. “It’s so, uh, hard.” “Yeah, standing straight up.” “Did the car ride do that to you or was it …?” Faith asked but didn’t finish her question. “I wasn’t doing anything except driving,” Karen said, aghast, throwing up both hands in innocence. Greg gulped down the stoppage in his throat, so he could speak. “It was you two. Both of you did this.” “No, not me,” Karen again justified herself. “I was just driving the car.” “Well, I wasn’t even talking. I was only sitting here,” Faith said. Whether they were only driving or simply silent, neither could take their eyes off what stood proudly through his unzipped zipper. Faith pressed her lips together. She asked, “Can I touch it?” Greg said nothing so she reached between the two front seats and wrapped her hand around its length. Her hand was cooler than the heat expiring from the throbbing erection. She began to stroke his dick gently, cautiously, like it was breakable. Greg closed his eyes in pleasure but was startled when he no longer felt the cool hand on him. Instead, Faith opened the front door and climbed into the back. She was beside Greg. She admired the erection as if it were a treasure she had uncovered. Her hand wrapped around it again, contrasting the coolness with the heat. She toyed with it, watching Greg’s body jump and jolt with different touches and pressures. Greg closed his eyes in the sensation. Unexpectedly, there was a different touch. He opened his eyes. Her wet lips gently kissed the strawberry tip and pulled away. Her bottle-green eyes, shining, probed him for a reaction to her kiss. Her touch jolted his body, and she needed nothing more. Faith leaned down for a second kiss, but this time she swirled her tongue over the head. A French kiss. Her eyes rated Greg’s reaction to her mouth’s work. “Keep doing it, keep doing it,” he murmured. Faith turned to Karen, who still sat in the front seat. She was stunned by what she had just witnessed. “Don’t let me have all the fun,” Faith said. “I’m okay right here,” she replied. “You don’t want to?” Faith asked. Karen’s scrunched eyebrows and limp bottom lip announced no. Faith gave a few strokes and then asked her, “Have you ever actually touched one before?” Karen transformed from the know-it-all about sex to a silky, white virgin. “His penis is nice. Better than the others I’ve touched. And I can feel his pulse when I hold him.” She gripped tighter to feel the quickened beats. “Come on, Kay, just try touching it. He won’t cum on you. He needs to be worked a little before that happens. No much though.” “I want … I want to see you play with him. That’s what turns me on,” Karen replied. She choked out the last words. “Kay, have you ever really touched, actually felt, a guy’s dick before?” “Well, not really, not like you are now.” “You need to try it. You need to learn now. Greg here is willing to be your Guinea pig.” Faith patted his thigh. “Yeah, I will be your Guinea pig, Karen—gladly.” Karen exhaled, and both Greg and Faith knew she had come around, even if only for one light touch. Karen sat next to Greg in the back seat, opposite to Faith. “This, Kay, is a penis. A cock. A dick. A member. A fuck-rod.” “I get it, I know the names, Faith,” she interrupted sarcastically. “The penis is an appendage that will make your life feel so much better. And, so you know, you’re staring at a good-looking dick. It may be hard to top this one unless you find a porn star.” “Yeah,” Karen said again. “Now, he likes you to take it gently in your hands. I can feel him tense up and then breath.” Faith tightened her hold and glanced at Greg. He had done just what she described. “Be careful when you see his face turn like he’s in pain. He’s about to …” Faith stopped abruptly. “Say it, Kay, say it. What’s he about to do?” Karen’s eyebrows dripped with awkwardness, and her back was humped over as if her one wish in life would to be out of the backseat of her SUV. “Just say the word,” Faith egged. “He will be about to …” She wanted her friend to fill in the last word. A word, it seemed, Karen thought too sinful to say—if her mouth had ever before let the word slip through her pink lips. To Greg, Faith wanted to hear Karen say the word too. Her body was overheating. “Say it.” Karen glanced at Faith. “He is …” She peeked at Greg. “… about to …” Karen shifted her eyes to the cock in Faith’s grip. Then she said it. “… about to … cum.” Faith released a pent-up groan of pleasure instantly and stuck the dick deep in her mouth, its impression showing against her cheek. She sucked, bobbing her head, her red hair flinging about wildly. Her sudden engorging sent Greg’s body into a fit. His legs tightening, his back straightening, his butt cheeks squeezing. He grasped for anything and his hand found Karen’s craned neck. His fingers instinctively gripped it and brought her face down, next to Faith’s face, which was smeared with saliva and lust. Faith too grabbed the nape of Karen’s neck and brought her face down to hers. She kissed her friend, her tongue stretching into her open mouth. Karen’s eyes widened in shock, but Faith took over. She would not let Karen stop her mouth from making love to her. Faith all but leaped over Greg to reach the just-revealed virgin. Faith got to Karen like a lion to a lamb, but in a moment the two were neither lion nor lamb. They were lovers. Their heads turned as they kissed. Karen’s fingers ran through Faith’s hair. “Oh, Kay,” Faith said, having torn her mouth from Karen’s, “I never thought you would be so good. I could only dream.” Karen enjoyed it. “I want more of you.” “Kiss me here.” Faith moved her lips next to the purple tip of Greg’s dick. Karen moved down and put her mouth on Faith’s fattened red lips and the slippery penis. They began their kissing again but included the erection that was in their way. Tongues touched, they licked. Lips smacked and engulfed the penis. Soon the girls were struggling to get everything into their mouths. One would take his entire head and let her tongue ring around the tip. The other would lick the length and flick his balls with her tongue. Then their mouths changed places. Greg’s breathing intensified. His heart thudded against his chest, and his cheeks turned red. His teeth clinched. He tried to control what was about to happen. He couldn’t. He growled and shortened his breath. In a twirl of momentary ecstasy, he shot cords of cum. A strand landed on Faith’s flushed cheek, but the largest clumps hit Karen’s lips and her nose. She immediately pursed her lips and shut her eyes. The other blob slid to the end of her dainty nose. Faith leaned in and let her tongue lick a creamy clump. She then kissed Karen, leading into her mouth with a tongue covered in cum. The girls’ make-out intensified to the point that blouses were unbuttoned. Karen abruptly stopped, huffing in exhaustion. “We can’t. Not with him here. We need to go to my house.” “Sorry, Greg, we have something to do,” Faith said. “We’ll drop you off at the Frostie Freeze.”
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
Sex story 6. Content Warning.
It was a warm Friday night, the second night of the annual Jackson County Fair. The place was packed with people for this annual weekend event. The fairgrounds smelled of fresh popcorn, corndogs, and apples dipped in caramel. The lines at the food trucks were long for cinnamon elephant ears and tacos and fried cheese and homemade root beer. The longest line was for blue and pink cotton candy. The fairgoers also waited in lines as long as cotton candy for both new and nostalgic rides. Overhead, colorful spinning lights on the rides shot bright beams into the night sky, and loudspeakers blared the latest hard rock music into nowhere and everywhere. The excited people flapped their tickets against their hands, as they itched to charge to the best seats on the rides. Once onboard, girls squealed wildly as the Tilt-A-Whirl tossed them from here to there. Young kids screamed and fell into tears when the Drop Tower hauled them farther into the sky than they could bear. Teenage boys covered their hidden fears and swallowed the rising nausea as they tried to handle the spinning pressure of Graviton and the swing of Turbo Force. This year, there was a new exhibit though. At its top was a goofy caricature of a man and a woman pushing their puckered lips together. In big letters it dubbed itself “The Love Machine.” There were two sturdy aluminum stairways. They were side by side at ground level, but a few steps up, the stairways separated and diverted directions. At the bottom of the stairways was a thin man in a tuxedo with tails that reached to the ground and large top hat. He called passersby, urging them to attempt The Love Machine. “When was the last time he said ‘I love you’ and mean it?” he would ask. “Been a while, I can tell. Just look at him. Ladies, let The Love Machine do its magic!” Most couples didn’t acknowledge him. Some pretended like he wasn’t there. Men, in particular, quick-stepped by, but he caught the attention of three young couples. The girls stopped briefly. It was enough time. “Ladies, how much do these guys love you?” he asked. “Are they just saying ‘I love you’ or do they mean it?” The girls looked peculiarly at the man and then to their boyfriends. He took his hat from his head and bowed. “These guys need to learn to express love, ladies! Men don’t know how. They can’t. They’ve never been taught, so let The Love Machine teach them. Each one of them.” “These boys won’t say those three magic words in front of these other dudes.” “Hey, you, in the ball cap. Tell her you love your beautiful girlfriend,” he prodded. Louie mumbled toward Martha, “I love you.” The man looked at Martha. “Did you hear him? I didn’t.” He turned to Louie. “Son, love isn’t mumbling. Ladies, a man who mumbles his love doesn’t really love you. He needs to know how to speak, to speak clearly and loudly. He needs The Love Machine! Let it work magic. Just two tickets. Yes, two tickets and you’ll have a new man in minutes.” The girls looked at their boyfriends. None had committed to The Love Machine. “Listen, ladies, I will give you your tickets back with two more if he doesn’t come back as a new man—a new man over the top in love. My word is my bond.” He drew a cross over his chest. Then he held out his hat, waiting for the tickets. “For me?” Martha asked Louie. Louie scoffed. “We won’t have enough tickets for the Ferris Wheel, if we do this one.” “The Love Machine will change your relationship, ladies. A giant wheel won’t do anything for the pair of you. Just two tickets.” Louie dumped two into the black top hat begrudgingly. The pair walked to the two side-by-side stairways. Before they started up, the man told them to say, “I love you.” “We’ll compare that to how The Love Machine changes him.” Dramatically, Louie said, “I love you, my one and only.” “Oh, he’s trying, trying hard, but he still needs The Love Machine.” Martha and Louie started together walking up the stairways. Then, the stairs turned aside. Their backs were to each other as the stairway led to opposite ends of The Love Machine. Martha and Louie opened the doors simultaneously. They each stepped inside and disappeared. Martha found herself in a room circled in mirrors. There were cute party props about love. She stood before the camera in the room, holding up the different sayings about love and forever wishes. Louie entered a dark room. No mirrors. A dim, low-watt lightbulb flicked on, casting the room in an odd orange glow. Under the light was a hole in the wall that was waist high. It was lined with gray duct tape. He was confused. He ran his finger along the edge of the hole. Then he noticed, scrawled in black, the word “Knock.” So he knocked softly, as if unsure The Love Machine was, in fact, a scary ride. A hand reached through the hole. A female hand. Its slender forefinger, tipped with a dark fingernail, drew him forward. The fingers then unzipped his pants. A breathy voice told him to push his dick through the hole. He was confused, surprised, even embarrassed. However, the finger wooed him. He pulled out his cock. The hand titillated the erection. The fingers ran up and down the length and then tugged it into the black hole. Immediately, Louie felt warmth and a slippery wetness cover his dick. With warmth and wetness, a suctioning pressure encircled it, mean and obvious. The suctioning strung out his cock and let it go. The suctioning tightened around him again, tugging once more. His body oozed at feeling the warmth of a sauna enclose his dick. He felt the first pangs of orgasm quickly. The fingers took a harsh grip on his length and a tongue fiddled with the very tip of his throbbing head. “Yes, yes,” he growled the simple words. He winced, tried to hold on for a moment more, and then gave in. He exploded somewhere beyond the black hole. He pulled out his deflating dick. It was reddened but was satisfied. He tucked it into his pants and zipped up. He realized what had happened. This was no scary ride at the county fair. Quite the opposite. He yanked open the door. “Martha!” he shouted when he saw her step from her room. “Martha, I love you!” He then looked at the people below him, including the two other couples. “I love her! I always will! I want everyone to hear it. Martha, I love you!” At the bottom step, he held her next to him. “You are breathtaking. I want no one else, you hear me. No one!” He hugged her tightly. “What happened?” Lily asked. “How did …” The two guys were amazed too, albeit skeptical. “I have two tickets,” Lily said. “We’re going in.” She tossed the tickets into the top hat. Lily watched over her shoulder as Liam stepped into the room that had transformed Louie. Liam closed the door behind him and the low-watt lightbulb clicked on. He saw the black hole, the duct tape and the word “Knock.” So he knocked and out came a dark-skinned hand with French tipped fingernails. The thick forefinger drew him forward. The fingers unzipped his pants and spread open the fly of his boxer shorts. The palm of the hand pressed against his already-hard cock. Lustfully slow, the fingers took hold of the length and dragged him up against the wall. He felt the rub of a rough wide tongue. It was like a large cat licking him. He felt a drizzle of warm salvia and then an unabashed consumption of his cock. “My God! Oh, fuck!” he shouted. His shouts and heavy panting caused the lips and tongue to move with more force. He pounded the wall with his fist. Quickly, he peaked. The first load of cum shot out, followed my two more clumps. The tongue did its cat-like lick at the tip. He heard smacking lips from beyond the black hole. The dark finger appeared once more through the hole. It drew him close and silently encouraged him to lean down to it. It pointed straight to his mouth. He saw it covered in a shimmering slipperiness in the low light. As he was close, the finger reached up and touched his lips. He leaned forward and put the entire finger in his mouth, sucking off the slipperiness. The entry door unlocked. He stepped out. “I am a new man! Completely new. Let the world know I love Lily. Lily is mine. I will care for her and treat her as a queen. My queen! I love you, Lily!” Lily met him at the bottom of the stairways. She kissed him on the lips. The pair held hands, Lily placing her head on her new man’s shoulder. Kaleo and Hannah were not interested. “Hannah, you already know I love you. I could shout from way up there. But I’ve written you poetry and have taken you on picnics and listened when you have had bad days.” “I know. You even gave me this promise ring.” Hannah boldly showed her hand, bending her wrist daintily. The tiny jewel encased in the band caught the light from a ride and sparkled. Kaleo stared deep into Hannah’s eyes and said romantically in his native Hawaiian language, “Ka’u aloha hookahi, baby.” Hannah hugged him tightly. “Mau loa.” The man in the tux put on his top hat respectfully. He smiled. “Sometimes, The Love Machine can do no better.” The three couples walked on. And the man began speaking to other couples passing by. “Ladies, ladies, your guys need to learn to express love! Men don’t know how. They can’t. They’ve never been taught. Let The Love Machine teach your man.
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
Sex story #5. Content Warning.
Joan had accumulated so many hours of paid time off for her job as a saleswoman in the pharmaceutical company that her young manager asked her to stay home for a day. “You know the company policy, Joan,” said Shawn Markson, a handsome African American. “Use it or lose it. And I don’t want you to lose it. Take one day out of life.” “It would be so nice.” She tapped her finger on her bottom lip. “Make it a holiday,” he said. Then realization zapped Joan. She shook her head and waved her hand to stop Shawn. “I’d never get an actual day off—even when I get a ‘day off.’ Work doesn’t stop here. You know that. And, if I stay home, I’ll end up vacuuming, mowing the yard, washing the kitchen floor, or something like that. Oh! That reminds me. I need to stop by the supermarket on the way home today.” She scribbled illegibly on a pink Post-It note. She stuck the note on the bottom of her computer monitor, along a row of various colored notes. “Joan.” Shawn crossed his arms over his chest. “After the supermarket run, don’t come back here until Monday. It’s important. I mean it.” “Shawn,” she countered, saying his name, like he had said hers. “I can’t.” “Joan, a day off will help you, and that’s what I’ve been focused on: a work-life balance.” He had been emphasizing the idea that employees would benefit themselves, him, and the company by not over-working. It was a win-win for everyone. Shawn rested against the cubicle’s half-wall. “Do you want me to fire you today and rehire you Monday?” They both laughed. Shawn straightened up. “I can’t say what I want and don’t want you to do on your day off, because the floors of corporate offices nowadays are covered in eggshells. All I will say is, please relax.” The handsome manager gave a simple smile. He raised his eyebrows as a means of urging Joan to agree to the day off. And she did. “All right. I will stay home. I’ll relax. Sleep in, go to the gym.” “Don’t wash floors. No getting on your hands and knees.” Joan cocked an eyebrow. But she smiled. “You know there are no eggshells between you and me.” “Okay. Well, you’ve got two teens who can wash the floor, if it actually needs a washing.” “All right then. I’ll take off tomorrow and be back on Monday.” Shawn thanked her. “You’ll enjoy yourself.” That night, Joan helped Rich, her husband, cook supper. As they ate, she told him about her day off. “He threatened to fire me if I didn’t,” she said. “Little Shawn?” “Yes, but …” She grinned. “He said he would hire me again Monday.” Rich laughed. “He’s smart for his age. You drive yourself hard—too hard. Take a day for yourself.” Joan exhaled. “My mind keeps thinking about all the work that’s piling up without me there. A day off is only procrastination. The work doesn’t stop.” Their dog barked at them through the patio door. “It just waits, like a dog at the door.” She let him in. Rich took her plate and his to the sink. “I’m cleaning the kitchen. The boys’ll deal with the dog. Go, rest on the couch. The TV is yours tonight.” Soon she was asleep on the couch. A few hours later, Rich led her to their bedroom. She settled under the covers, barely opening her eyes. Joan awoke to a silent house. No kids shouting. Her husband gone for the day. No television babbling to no one. The sink empty of dirty dishes. The counter cleaned almost to a shimmer. She only heard the refrigerator’s even-keel hum. She closed her eyes, pausing in the kitchen for a brief moment of peace. When she opened her eyes, she saw, through the laundry room door, a mop. It was the first temptation of the day. She stepped aside to resist the urge to clean. Immediately though, she saw the stovetop wasn’t as clean as she preferred. Someone had let a pot boil over. She grabbed the first cast iron grate to move it aside. She stopped herself. “You can’t do this. Take a day off,” she said aloud, echoing Shawn’s and Rich’s words. She abstained from the second temptation. On the back porch, she felt the warm sun on her face. The garden flowers and the tomato plants in five-gallon buckets were growing nicely. In a few more weeks, she would be frying tomatoes and slicing them for tomato sandwiches. Then she noticed weeds. They were peeking through the black mulch. She knew it would take two minutes to pull all the weeds she could see. But she decided her boys would handle the weeds later. Another temptation diverted. However, Shawn came to mind. She giggled at Shawn’s comment about being on her hands and knees. He was from the generation of eggshells. Joan, not so much. Oddly though, she let her mind linger his words: On her hands and knees. A mirage formed. She was on the floor and looking up to see Shawn, standing proudly, high above her. He had a lump in the crotch of his dress slacks. She shook the image from her mind. She took a short drive to Mark And Son Coffee Shop in town. She liked the name because the name would bring Shawn Markson to mind. This time, though, the reminder was a bit dirtier than a quick smile. She pictured Shawn unzipping his gray slacks while she watched. Her pulse sped slightly and a warmth grew in her chest. She didn’t immediately shoo away the thought. Watching the dark roast coffee trickle the Styrofoam cup, she heard Marvin Gaye playing on the in-store sound system. The groove made her shift subtly side to side as she mouthed the words. When a young man walked by her with a smile, she stopped. She quickly paid and returned home. Joan sipped her coffee on the back porch, so she could be in the sun and see the flowers and plants. She kept the weeds out of sight. Soon she decided watering the plants would not be considered work, despite Shawn’s warning. Her reasoning was, “It’s not work if I enjoy doing it.” She grabbed the head of the black garden hose and tugged the hose for more length. She twisted on the spigot. The hose stiffened with the water pressure. She hummed as she misted the plants. She stroked the hose, while showering the flowers. Soon, her cool, wet hands had lubed the hose. Shawn came to mind again. “Like doing that?” Shawn asked. “I never thought of you as a woman who massages a dick. You seem to grab and hold tight.” “I like to please more. Do you want anything?” “We’re coworkers, Joan. It’s not right in today’s world.” “If I urge you, then I want it.” Joan gripped harder. Joan came back to real life. Suddenly, she released the water mister and let the hose drop and flop on the pavement. She stared at her palm. She twisted off the spigot. She batted the back of her hand on her forehead while laughing at her imaginary conversation. “You’re goofy with horniness,” she scolded. “Act your age—think your age. Think of his age!” She picked up the hose again to wind it away. It was limp but out came the last spurts of cold water. Shawn returned to mind. “Don’t let me go limp for long,” he said. “What do you want me to do? You never answered,” Joan asked. “Your legs open.” “You want to see me?” she asked, jutting a hip sideways as if offering it. “No.” She stood upright. “You just said…” “Not so much see as to taste.” Joan came back to her real life once again. This time though, her chest fluttered and her little daydream had warmed her. Inside, the house was empty. Still only the hum of the refrigerator. That steady sound brought to mind a new speedy vibrating toy of hers. Lily 2 had made her smile and more over the last months. She entered her empty bedroom. “You let me go limp out there. Now I want you to fix that.” Shawn spoke in a firm tone that Joan hadn’t heard before. He typically was gentle. She knelt silently before the black man. The pace at which he revealed himself made her hungry. Her mouth watered, and a steady buzz inside and against her body intensified. Then she gasped. His cock flipped out, hanging low and long. “My god!” she said. She dragged her tongue back into her mouth with a slurp. The cock was twice as thick as the hose and hung with a shimmering blackness. It was lined with veins and a large crown. He was her king. Before she could move, he lifted the weighty thing and plopped it onto her face. His large balls dangled over her chin and its length stretched up the bridge of her nose. She went cross-eyed to stare at it. She leaned back until the mushrooming head met her pink lips. Her tongue swooped the underside of the dick. And she licked again. In her excitement, she upped the setting of tiny pink vibrator. As she went on, she noticed the scent of Bordeaux and Chocolate. Joan then opened her mouth wide to swallow Shawn’s dark cock. Trying to get it in her mouth, she looked like a python taking in its prey. She bobbed on the dick. She even gagged few times and left a glistening shine on the majestic girth. Soon, the strands of saliva dangled from the cock and dripped down her chin. She moved back. Her hand gripped the length, stroking it, while she moved lower. One at a time, his low-hanging balls fit nicely in her mouth. She sucked and tugged on them. The tip of her tongue swung them this way and that, so they would bump against her chin, like playing tetherball. Joan stopped, stiffened, for a brief moment. Good things were near. She added pressure to her clit with the vibrator. Her body shifted as a wave of pleasure radiated through her. Next came the tsunami that pushed her from the fantasy with Shawn. Every part of her became ultra-sensitive, even to where she had to let go of the vibrator. She only felt it buzz at the base of her butt. A door opened. “Joan, are you home?” Rich called. She knew Rich wouldn’t be Shawn, but he had a dick to use. “In here.” He fucked her hard, but afterward Shawn made her lie on the bed for much of the day. On Monday, Shawn asked about her day. “I got on hands and knees to clean, but it didn’t take long. And,” she smiled, “it was not work at all, trust me.”
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
Sex story #4. Content Warning.
Late that Saturday evening, Harold hauled the last box through the door of his new apartment. He swiped sweat off his forehead and stretched his back after carrying the boxes to the twelfth floor, albeit with the aid of an elevator. He had jammed all his belongings into the one-bedroom apartment on Florence Avenue, all to escape his last roommate. He had moved to this place, because the guy had been a terror for Harold. Life now would be quiet. It would be calm. It would be safe. Harold would know everyone who entered the place, instead of finding strangers passed out on the couch in the living room. That same night, the first night, he had a nightmare. His roommate was knocking on the front door, pounding the wall, rapping the window, opening and closing the refrigerator door, slamming the kitchen cabinets. Even though Harold shouted at him, he would not stop. Harold sat up, gasping for deep breaths. Trying to right his mind, he, at first, feared the move to the new apartment was the actual dream and he was still holed up with his roommate. Yet, he found he was in his new place, alone, quiet. The place was empty. Thankfully, the knocking and hitting was the dream. Harold hated that his flagrant roommate had attached himself and would not let go, no matter how far away he went. He checked through the apartment, concerned about the noises he heard in his dream. Then he heard a knock. “What the…” He knew no one was there, but the knocking worried him. Harold paced through the place and trailed the bang, until it led to his bedroom closet. The knock happened three times on an exposed vertical pipe. A day later, the maintenance man stood in the closet, slowly plopping a heavy pipe wrench on the palm of his hand, as he mulled over the situation. “The pipe doesn’t need tightening. It could be the contraction and expansion due to the water in the metal pipe. Or it could be the water pressure going through it. I don’t know. All I do know is this is an eighty-year-old building, and it’s got its quirks.” “There’s nothing you can do?” “Nothing more for now, except hope the pipe doesn’t break.” “If you can’t do anything, I want my security deposit so I can move out. This’ll drive me insane.” The maintenance man’s forehead scrunched, and he began to nibble on his lip as a thought had come to mind. He turned to Harold. “This is apartment 12B, right?” “Yes.” Harold slurred his answer, concerned about the scruffy man’s sudden realization. “The last tenants here—a married couple who moved out recently—they said knocking twice on the pipe stopped the problem for a while. Simply knocking. Said it worked, they couldn’t explain how or why. I can’t either. So, try knocking. That’s about as good as I can do for you.” “Knock twice to get three knocks to stop? Sounds screwy.” He twisted his finger at his temple. “Don’t I know it! But these old buildings have their own ways of living that no one can explain—not even the smartest building manager.” He tossed the well-worn wrench onto his shoulder, with a clank of the metal. “It’s these buildings, they give us ghost stories. If I could buy this place, I would redo it as a haunted house, scaring everyone with all the secrets I’ve heard but can’t explain.” The maintenance man rapped his knuckles twice on the metal pipe. “That should do it.” Harold crossed his arms and frowned. A skeptic. “I’ll give it a month, hear me? If it doesn’t stop, I’ll need to be released from my rental agreement—security deposit in full.” The maintenance man shrugged. “Need to take that to the front desk. I repair. I don’t do that contract mumbo-jumbo.” Over the next few days, Harold heard no knocking on the pipe. The apartment was quiet. He found himself resting without being infuriated by his roommate or any other oddity. His jaw had relaxed, and his face had eased into a smile. He hadn’t been grinding his teeth from anger and stress either. But one night, he was stretched out from end to end on his bed, watching television, when he again heard that knocking. He closed his eyes and exhaled to shoo away his frustration. “Accept it,” he urged himself. “This is the building’s personality.” A series of three knocks. Followed by a pause. Then more knocks. And a pause. The pattern continued. Finally, Harold jumped out of bed. “I can’t take it!” He grabbed an aluminum baseball bat in his room, and, gritting his teeth, he rammed the handle hard against the ceiling three times. The echoing twang of the bat was a relief for him. Small cracks spread out from the rounded dent the size of the head of the bat. A few chips of dried paint fell into his hair and onto the floor around him. He knew the few bangs would not solve the pipe problem or make the old building adjust to his — this newcomer — way of life. He simply released his exasperation on the apartment. His chest heaving from the blows to the ceiling, he lay down and put a pillow over his head. For a few minutes, he didn’t hear the knocking on the pipe. Instead, he heard a knock on his front door. Concerned, he slid on his gym shorts and a T-shirt. Through the peephole, he saw a lovely woman. Tall and lithe. Her blond hair in long waves covered the tall collar of the long executive overcoat. He unlocked the door and opened it. “Hi, can I help you?” “It’s been how long since you last knocked,” she said. She confidently slid sideways between him and the doorframe into the apartment. This unknown woman’s emerald eyes pierced him, and a scent of lavender lured him toward her. Steadying his mind, he asked, “You sure you’re at the right apartment? This is—” “—12B.” She turned suddenly. Her long executive overcoat rose, exposing her knees. “Yes, I know exactly where I am.” She paused her stride through the apartment. She stared back at him. “I don’t think you do. I moved in just recently. Harold’s my name.” She ignored his comments. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for months now,” she said. “I keep getting two knocks on the pipe. Tonight, you gave in.” Harold scratched the back of his head. A few pieces of the crusty ceiling fell out. Then he stopped abruptly. “Wait.” He pointed up his finger, having figured out the situation. “Ah, yes, I see what’s going on. A married couple moved out recently. Yeah, they’re the ones you’re looking for. I apologize for the mix-up. It’s been a long night. I need to …” He walked to the door to offer her a polite exit. She ignored his suggestion. “I have wanted this. And you—denying me for this long—made me all the more crazy.” Harold let go of the door handle. “This, what ‘this’?” “‘This…” She pointed at herself and then at him. She stepped close to him. “You and me, me and you.” “We’ve never met. Who are you?” She stopped him, putting her finger on his lips. “Please. You ask too many questions. You and I know each other, and you have been telling me no for too long. Until tonight.” She stepped back from him. Then, in each hand, she held the end of a belt that wrapped around the waist of the coat. She pulled the ends of the belt and the coat opened. She was naked. Harold stepped back. “Oh my… Holy! You’re…” She took a long step towards him and gave him a hard kiss. As the lovely woman pressed herself against him, Harold didn’t reject her. He wrapped his arms around her. The pair kissed, smothering each other. Her hands moved first and without concern for any possible awkwardness. Harold would not give up on this. It would be her fault when she realized he was the wrong guy. He slid his hands over her right breast, cupping and lifting the weight. He then moved along the contours of her sides and hips, veering behind her. He stopped when her hand dipped into his shorts. Her cold hand tightened his already stiff cock. She began to jerk it up and down despite the tight space. Harold pulled back from her lips to take in the pleasure of her feminine hand attending him. He exhaled. “This is what I’ve wanted,” she hissed. “Yes,” he said. “Anytime, I don’t care.” Before he could explore her further and offer recompense for her goodness, she knelt. He gritted his teeth in the tension. His jaw tightened. She grabbed the elastic bands of his shorts and yanked them to his ankles. She bent his length until it pointed between her eyes. She then moved it down the bridge of her nose, to the point, and then to her lips. She moved the head right and left as if putting on lipstick. Harold grabbed her head and simply shoved his cock into her mouth. She then began her furious blowjob. She knew what she was doing and how to do it well. The goodness deep inside of him welled. He pulled her head close to him while thrusting his dick forward. She gagged and closed her eyes. She pulled back, but Harold would not allow himself to leave her mouth, even for a moment. She opened her mouth wider and took his jabs. Her face turned red from the face-fuck. Her eyes bulged. Saliva drained from the corners of her mouth and drooled over her chin in long, gooey strains. He took his cock from her mouth. His hand jerked the length three times, and he spewed clumps of creamy cum all over her face. The initial shots hit her eyes and tangled in her blond hair. The last few fell into her puffy, reddened lips. She wiped her face and flung the sludge onto the floor, dabbing the last bits with the overcoat. Harold, who had collapsed onto the couch, was about to offer her a tissue when she stood. She cinched the coat. “Knock again, please,” she said simply. “Wait, what’s your name? You never told me.” “Florence.” And she closed the door behind her. The next morning, he asked the maintenance man about a Florence who lived above his apartment—12B. “That’s the other thing the married couple said that I never understood. A woman in an overcoat would beg to come in. They never did let her in but made a few complaints. Maybe that’s why they left.” “This lady, Florence, lives above me. She came down when I hit the ceiling. Who is she?” “I told you, if I could buy this place, it’d turn it into a haunted house. Lots of strange things happen here. I can’t explain them.”
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
Sex storys #2. Content Warning.
“You’re sure you don’t want to?” my husband asked, a little disappointment lingering in his voice. Shuffling down the aisle of the cabin of the airplane and not letting our bags hit people who were seated, I answered over my shoulder. “The bathrooms are gross. Think of all the people who have been in them.”
By Yusuf Atak2 years ago in Filthy
My boyfriend asked me to role play a prostitute that would fuck anyone for money
My boyfriend asked me to role play a prostitute that would fuck anyone for money. I took the assignment seriously. I asked him to role play my pimp that’s also my boyfriend and wait for me in bed, watching TV.
By Electra Ocean2 years ago in Filthy
