Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Filthy.
Bones
What do you need in order not to fall apart? Bones, good bones. As he touched me I felt it. I felt emotion passing from deep within his bones to mine. I was feeding off of it. Hoping to decipher him piece by piece. Lying next to him gave me so much comfort. In this way, I wanted only him. He is everything I could have asked for, given to me, for me, he is my sun and stars. I only want the best for him, always, I longed for him every time we were apart. We are one and the same. He tries to be soft, but he is too heavy handed for that. His hand touches my skin, crossing slowly over my body, finally holding onto my pelvic bone. I feel his hand sink into me, pulling me closer, deeper into him. I am rested and ready, ready to experience him again, for the third time. I am so powerful, though I allow him to think he is. I turn to face him, looking at him now, resting with eyes closed, I wonder what he is thinking behind that skull of his. He is daydreaming, daydreaming of us of course. Ecstatically I pounce to the other side of the bed, hoping he will follow, but as dominant and as strong as he is, he does not, instead he grabs me by my legs just to pull me back to him. I think about this for a second, and I disagree, and as soon as I get the chance to, I pounce right back to the other side of the bed. This time he follows.
By Kenya Carpenter9 years ago in Filthy
Lover's Crest: Part Two
Tears. Smiles. Laughter. Kris couldn't keep from spilling her joy after I revealed that not only was she welcome to come be at Lover's Crest during the renovations, and have her own art room, but that the large room in which we stood was for us to share. She gazed longingly at the bed fit for royalty, at least the royalty of the Oregon coast.
By LP Steinbeck9 years ago in Filthy
Soldier
I think first I should apologize. You are, or maybe were, a wonderful man. I’m not just saying that. If you were here, I wouldn’t be doing this right now. You have to understand what this is like for him. I could see it in him when he fucked me the first time, when he came to my room in the dark. By the look in his eyes, I would have thought he was killing you himself. It was like knocking on my door when you’d been missing for three months was the same as slitting your veins open himself.
By Kyrie Morrighan9 years ago in Filthy
Mistakes Men Make in the Bedroom
Most men like to believe they are a God in bed. From their epic oral skills to their grand love-making techniques, I have yet to encounter a man who doesn’t believe he’s the best in the sack. Now of course some dudes actually live up to their boasting and practice what they preach, but for the fellas who reside in an alternate universe and believe the “jackhammer” move is every girls fantasy or that a female orgasm is possible in two minutes, here is a dose of reality for you. If you are guilty of doing two or more things from the list below, you my friend are most likely crap in the sack. Luckily for you though, this assessment comes with some advice and there is no time like the present to learn and improve.
By Jus L'amore9 years ago in Filthy
Another Way of Looking at Flesh
She looks down at her book; the movement of the train is making the words jolt sideways in a hypnotic dance. She likes it, it stops her thinking and the book is just a prop anyhow. It’s the last train to her apartment, the latest she can take and she has chosen it especially. The carriage is empty, this is the hollowness she seeks, the roar of the train as it rushes down the tunnel, like blood through a vein, life, time, the future moving forward. This is the obliteration she needs in this moment. She looks down at her hands. One rests palm up between the pages, along the spine of the cheap paperback. The other, fingers curled, holds open the page. An hour ago these fingers were inside a man trying to stem an internal hemorrhage, a calculated gamble her other colleagues had refused. The gamble had failed. The patient had died before gaining consciousness.
By tobsha Learner9 years ago in Filthy
Someone's Watching
Do you ever get that feeling that you're being watched? My name is Lita and that's my gut instinct when my boyfriend Cody and I visit a popular ski resort every year. You would think the thought of being peeked on would deter us from going back but it actually does the opposite and excites us, that's why we always return.
By Whowoulda Thought9 years ago in Filthy
Body
There's something about being naked alone with a body belonging to another. Passion is shown by the way he touches my body, it’s no longer foreign to him, he is confidant in his grasp. He lays next to me intertwining our legs together. My body melts into his. My happiness is right there leaning my head on his chest hearing his heartbeat still beating at a fast pace from his recent orgasm. He is relaxed but undeniably happy from our encounter. Nothing separates my body from his, yet still I crave to be closer to him. I tell him I'm happy that I am with him in that moment. And even though we are right there together I tell him I miss him and I have missed him, I missed all the time we could have spent together, because for some reason I always want to be around him yet we can only spend limited amounts of our time together. Our bodies belong together. One and one, body and body, skin and skin, bones and bones.
By Kenya Carpenter9 years ago in Filthy
5 Times Sex Became Laughable
Let’s be honest, unless you are a rampant teenager trying the Kama Sutra with a boyfriend you call big daddy, you have dealt with these awkward situations. The ones that you won't even tell your best friend who has seen you piss in an alley whilst eating the remnants of a kebab. But don’t worry I'm here to confirm what we all tell ourselves anyway, it really does happen to everyone! So let's jump into the world of sordid secrets and get down and dirty with the truth about sex.
By Lizzie Fox9 years ago in Filthy
Brenda Bondage
I get home from work after midnight. I'm nineteen years old, working at a sandwich shop and gigging as a stand up comedian at open mics around town whenever I can. I'm still living at home, and on this evening, when I enter the apartment, I notice my mom is not in her bed, which she keeps in the living room. I make my way across the living room and into the kitchen, where I find my mom at the window, looking down from the second story window onto the parking lot below.
By billy boyles9 years ago in Filthy
