conventions

The best moments of both erotica conventions and of erotica stars at mainstream conventions across the country.

The Art of Building Anticipation
One of the most erotic and sexy things you can do with your partner is build up the anticipation, not just before sex, but before even the foreplay begins. It can be minutes, it can be hours, or you can go for the all day anticipation. However long it last... it often enhances the entire experience for both partners from start to finish. If done right, it truly is an erotic art.
By Timothy A Rowland2 months ago in Filthy
The Message He Never Deleted. AI-Generated.
The message arrived at 11:47 p.m. Arman noticed it not because his phone buzzed, but because he was already awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the slow seconds between unfinished thoughts. Nights had become like that—quiet on the outside, loud on the inside.
By shakir hamid9 months ago in Filthy
Erotic Arousal from Disaster: The Dark Allure of Symphorophilia. Content Warning.
It happened on a quiet Sunday afternoon — the kind that smells of asphalt and heat. Clara was driving home from work, the window half open, her hair whipping in the dry wind. The city shimmered in the distance, trembling in the summer haze.
By Jiri Solc11 months ago in Filthy
WOMANIFESTO
They tell us all religions are patriarchal. They prove it by pointing to how they treat a woman’s blood. Every faith designed by men has some rule, restriction, or shame woven around the womb. Around menstruation. Around the literal flow of life. And yet, these same men worship the blood of a crucified god while rejecting the holy blood that births all gods.
By THE HONED CRONE11 months ago in Filthy
Pleasure at the Edge: Inside the Hidden World of BDSM. Content Warning.
The room is silent except for the faint clink of chains and the low hum of a heater. A woman in a black velvet mask kneels on deep red fabric, her breathing slow and deliberate. Across from her, a partner traces a leather crop down her shoulder. No one speaks. In that breathless pause, fear and anticipation mix until they are indistinguishable. For those who gather in such private spaces—lofts in Brooklyn, basements in Berlin—BDSM is not a reckless thrill. It is a ritual of trust, a deliberate dance between surrender and control.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy
Why Coffee Dates Are Still the Best First Date Idea in 2025
Coffee dates have long been a staple first date. They manage to be casual and intimate, unique without displaying claims of getting serious, independent of a duo expressing interest becoming exclusive. Unlike a more elaborate dinner or an expensive night out, coffee dates, while not ideal at 13, do not involve as much of an external distraction and can make for some quality time talking. Nor in 2025 have they lost any of their appeal. If anything, the convenience of coffee dates, which have become more casual than ever in fast-paced, singles-oriented Los Angeles, has a place in this accelerated world of dating. Coffee dates are timeless because they’re about the connection as opposed to being performance-based, and are a great option for first impressions.
By Hayley Kiyokoabout a year ago in Filthy
Lethal Obsession: When Love Crosses the Line Between Desire and Death. Content Warning.
She wore her best dress the day she visited him. A soft shade of blue, like the letters she had written in careful cursive night after night. The prison guards had grown used to her now—she was one of the regulars. Every Tuesday at 3:00 p.m., she stepped through those steel gates with a smile on her face and a heart full of longing. The man waiting for her on the other side had raped and strangled five women. But to her, he was still “Danny,” the troubled boy with sad eyes and a misunderstood soul.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy
One Night in Bangkok: The Woman Who Changed Everything. Content Warning.
The night began like any other in Bangkok—thick with moisture that clung to the skin like silk, echoing with the screech of motorbikes cutting through narrow alleys. The air smelled of grilled squid, car exhaust, and the incense of old shrines. Street vendors hawked mango sticky rice and knockoff sunglasses. Neon signs blinked lazily in Thai and broken English.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy
When Her Body Betrayed Her Heart: The Emotional Fallout of Sleeping With an Ex. Content Warning.
It had been 198 days since she’d last seen him. Not that she was counting—except she was. Emma had erased his number, blocked his social media, tossed out the hoodie that still smelled like his cologne. She’d even gone on a handful of awkward dates where men talked too much and listened too little. But nothing stuck.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy
The #1 Mistake Everyone Makes on Their Dating Profile
Your dating profile is pretty much your first date on the Internet. For a lot of people, it's the only peek they get before deciding to hit message or swipe left for good. It matters a lot, but too many folks race through it, thinking it’s just a box to check instead of a little window into their real self. That kinda rush can mess up your shot before you even get to say hi.
By Stella Johnson Loveabout a year ago in Filthy
Infidelity: The One Sin We Keep Forgiving Ourselves For. Content Warning.
Fire Behind the Curtain: Napoleon and Joséphine Paris, winter of 1808. The fire in the private chambers of the Tuileries Palace crackled softly, but the silence between Napoleon Bonaparte and Joséphine was glacial. Her letter had fallen to the marble floor, its folds still warm from her hand. Another name. Another liaison. Another betrayal.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy
Under the Mango Moon: When Women Buy Desire Abroad. Content Warning.
She steps from the airplane into air so humid it feels like breath on her neck. Forty-four, divorced, two teenage sons safe at home. The Caribbean sun exposes every forgotten part of her: stretch marks silvery as moonlight, thighs no longer taut, a heart tired from being unseen. She isn’t here for adventure, not really. She is here because at home, desire has died, and here, under the mango moon, it might be reborn.
By Jiri Solcabout a year ago in Filthy