Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Filthy.
Homosexuality in Italian Renaissance Art & Culture
The Renaissance, spanning from approximately the fourteenth to seventeenth century, is defined as the historical period bridging Medieval and Modern Europe. Its name coming from the French word for “rebirth,” the period is defined by its revival of interest in visual culture and its renewal of artistic standards of beauty, a juxtaposition to the aesthetics of its “dark and dreary immediate predecessors.” (Johnson, Geraldine A., Renaissance Art: A Very Short Introduction, (Oxford University Press, 2005). Naturally, with this newfound emphasis on beauty and aestheticism came a wave of fine art unlike those seen in any era before or after. Not only were artistic styles and techniques refined to perfection, but with them came a “powerfully self-conscious creation of identity” (Brotton, Jerry, The Renaissance: A Very Short Introduction, (Oxford University Press, 2006) that any artistic works prior to those composed in the Renaissance lack. Even if it is difficult to grasp the motivation or emotion behind a painting, it is still possible to identify with them as “recognizably modern.” (Ibid). This is due to the fact that prior to the fifteenth century, people “lacked a powerful sense of individual identity,” (Ibid) and the period is representative of this shift in intellectual ignorance.
Deep Stretching
Julie could hold more than just a plank. I’m a fit girl, and believe it or not, I don’t get fucked that often. Honestly, I don’t really look for it. But yesterday morning’s dick with Paul was sex I can’t wait to have again.
Roman GabrieloPublished 6 years ago in FilthySexy Embrace
I wanted to surprise him, he had been working so hard. We just moved into our first home together, and I wanted him to have a nice little surprise. I went out and bought his favorite food and went to Victoria Secret for something sexy for dessert. I made his favorite meal, chicken stir fry, Angry Orchard for him and red wine for me. I dimmed the lights in the kitchen. He came home at just the right time when I had finished everything. We sat and ate our meal as he helped me clean the dishes, and as he went into the living room to watch TV; I slipped into our bedroom and changed into a maroon, lace bodysuit. I put on my black heels and draped my black kimono around my body.
Miranda MartinPublished 6 years ago in FilthyPleasure & Love
I'm in love with a boy. This boy means everything to me. Actually, I really don't like him that much. To be honest the reason I say I don't really like him isn't because I truly dislike him. It's because I wish I didn't like him as much as I do. I'm crazy about him in reality. I have always been so good at focusing my entire life on my friends and family and of course on myself. I have always been so good at telling myself, "I am not the girl who needs a boy in their life." I have always been so good at not catching feelings for anyone. I'm always so detached when I'm in a "relationship." But falling for this boy was like falling down a stairway. I was in complete control at first, but then without warning I tumbled down, down, down onto the ground. I am not the first person he loved. He was not the first person I looked at with my mouthful of desire. My love for him came unannounced in the middle of a silent night. He came around and now I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. When he touches me with those hands. Oh those forceful, secure hands. Any women would die to be touched with his hands. I crave him. I need him. He touches and pleases me at the same time. He keeps his mouth on mine, but still he lavishes my breasts with attention. He loves to cup my breast and start kissing me softly, sweetly, tugging at my lips with his. We sit in spider position in the back car seat. He politely asks "Can I?" as his hands slowly make their way into my weakness. His fingers rub around my sweet spot and my eyes roll back into my head. His fingers are at my sweet spot and I imagine it’s his tongue, wetting the wings of my labia, feeling them flutter and spread, circling my clit and flicking it. I am mind-blown. He sucks on my lower lip like a ring pop over and over again, with his tender and soft lips. Oh if he'd stop, I'd cry. I'd get on my knees and beg. We get so close, too much. He plays with me like an instrument finely tuned, and if he touches me right, I make the most glorious sounds, noises of pleasure. It's like a never-ending dream. I rub my hands on top of his treasure and feel him harden. But I'll admit, I'm a little scared. A little scared of doing these types of things to him. A little scared of him breaking my heart or me breaking his. How can something that feels so wrong, also feel so right? His smile might be the most addictive drug to me. His sweet soul. His way of loving me. His pure kindness. His raw manners. His protection towards me. It's everything about him that drives me insane. Fear can't get in the way of my love for him. Fear is just something that holds us back. I will not live my days with him knowing one day it could be over. Next time I will please him as he pleases me. Now I'm growing desperate. I will take his tool into my mouth again and again, and with my two hands I will circle his sexual parts, care for him and absorb him until he comes. I will give him a full view of my slutdom.
Erica SmithPublished 6 years ago in FilthyMy Worst Sex
Of my 15 partners, there are a two I would consider telling to never touch a woman again. I am an advocate for size doesn't matter during sex, so none of these men had that problem, but MAN did they have something wrong with them.
Morning Chat Time
I rolled over and smacked the alarm clock for the second time, willing it to please give me just ten more minutes. It’s going to be a hell of a day, and I do not want to go to work. Satisfied that the alarm would obey me, I snuggled back under the covers.
Minerva McAlisterPublished 6 years ago in FilthyNever Again
You used to be my favorite memory. A moment in time where I usually got lost in, with a coated key full of sadness to open the door. A flood of emotions would drown me every time, anywhere, while doing anything. It robbed me of my senses, consuming my lungs until breathing became painful.
Sharlene AlbaPublished 6 years ago in FilthyLike Being Choked
I don't know if it's the weather changing or what, but I have been extra horny recently. I have been dating someone for about a year, and things are pretty serious (I wrote about taking his virginity in another article).
Descent into Darkness Chapter Four
Aerion, Aesteria 1871 Rayvn looked away from them, turning her heated gaze out the window of the carriage. The night seemed to stretch on before them, beckoning her with endless possibilities. Not only could she hear the constant clip-clop of the horses' hooves but she could distinctly pick out each beasts' individual heartbeat as well as the heartbeat of the driver. The sound of the man's blood, rushing through his veins made her all the more thirsty, her throat tightened and her gums began to ache as if she were teething for the first time. The rest of their party chatted idly, as of nothing had happened.
Carolynn ReynoldsPublished 6 years ago in FilthyTeachers Teach
Ann was a good girl. But sometimes, even the good girls themselves don’t know that they could have the bad in them. It was the first day of her business finance module in her sophomore year. As she watched her new young professor enter the tutorial class and walked onto the podium, her eyes already lit up. “Hi, good to see everyone. You can call me Jake." That was all it took to make her face go burning hot.
From Stalk Me to F**k Me!
"Now here's a little story all about how Life got flipped, turned upside down It's only going to take a minute, just sit right there
Sofia: Part 3
Eddie Colon, the chief of police on the island, exited the interrogation room and Sofia braced herself for his infamous disapproving glare. He'd be smart to be nice to her. Considering the only reason he even had a job here was all her doing. He had an excellent arrest record in New York, which had housed most of the people on the island until the roads and the tarmac, and the houses were rebuilt. He made sure everyone had been accounted for and the ones who weren't he offered fundraisers to help with funeral costs. Eddie Colon was a patriot to the island, just like she was, despite them being on the opposite sides of the law.
Sharlene AlbaPublished 6 years ago in Filthy