erotic
Erotic in nature. Content that discusses erotic acts, films, art, or fantasies.
A taste of Zoe
Allison leaned back and stared at the screen, but the view was the same as when she’d been hunched forward, her fingers poised over the keyboard, fruitlessly waiting for inspiration to strike: there was nothing but a blank document, the cursor blinking at her over and over again.
By Laura Steele2 years ago in Filthy
Introverted Stream of Consciousness
This is why I Stay Home... Sober me is a bit of a prude. Sitting at the bar… actively engaging with the live music via the tapping of my foot… the scent of man enters my olfactory senses. My subconscious hunts for an odor that it craves. Dank masculine pheromones that turn my eyes white as they roll to the back of my skull… running my tongue across my upper teeth, I’m half expecting fangs to rip through my gums. Tonight feels like the perfect night to meet someone. Naïvety is prevalent in my romantic endeavors… Being introverted halts me from making eyes around the room. I want him to come to me. I want my energy to resonate like gravity and draw him into my sphere. Sandalwood stirs the air around me as people get up and down from their seats. A mysterious stranger seated in red seems to be looking in my direction… I don’t dare look at him for fear of being wrong. There is live music after all. This is why I don’t go out…my lack of regular physical contact feels like an involuntary halo of desperation. My wants and my needs bargain with each other to allow my ego just a taste of someone…An unfamiliar musk to satiate my Eros spirit. My tongue lashes out playfully licking my lips out of sexual hunger. Desire to sink my teeth into flesh and let my pleasure paint the air in moans becomes more permissible with each drink. Self control in these situations is the foundation of my pride. Right now all I want to do is rip that away. The scent of man is in my nose and it’s exactly what I crave god dammit… There is no resolution for me. Each sip of bourbon flavored citrus lowers my inhibitions. Allowing me to become more seduced. The possibilities surrounding me force my brain into a think tank. The path to my physical desires is more simple than I’m making it out to be and I know it. Why do I play this game with myself? To see if who I want wants me? Probably… The complexity of my basic desires is being reduced to wanting to make out. I need the safety of home. Away from strangers and possibility. The probability of a regrettable decision in this atmosphere is high. If I weren’t drinking it would be drastically lowered but then what would happen to my anxiety? Fuck…! What is it about the atmosphere of a bar that makes you hope someone will approach you… in the way you fantasized without consequence? Fuck cravings… fuck, cravings…
By Evan Jackson2 years ago in Filthy
I dare you
From the distance, it looks like the hulls are literarily making clean incisions on the almost flat surface of the sea. Sights and sounds from the sailing club fade away on their stern. A soft breeze caressed the main sail with charming politeness as a big old sun warms the deck's surface without any constrains. With her hand on the tiller, our skipper manages to steer the boat towards a one of a kind destination, this place, is the perfect scenario to indulge in the affairs of the heart.
By Giovanni Profeta2 years ago in Filthy
His brother's wife
Joel glanced around the room. The table was set, the wine had been poured, and he was pretty sure that his sister-in-law was ready to serve dinner. If only his brother were home — which he wasn’t, and from the tone of the conversation he heard drifting from the kitchen, his brother wasn’t going to be home anytime soon.
By Laura Steele2 years ago in Filthy