Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Filthy.
I am feeling naughty at the moment.
I am still searching for my sexy black male, in his late twenties or early-mid 30s with that sexy build nice physique, Bbc well kept dreadlock braids, and a hot tempted desire for me and only me while I would show him the respect he shows me. Dang, I need to get laid very much, I am so cotton-picking horny Dog damn. I am sick and tired of masturbation, I need to get that Bbc lay, that right one with a large doctor pepper and side of home fries to devour right afterward, And I need my order supersized perfectly.
By Angelina F. Thomas4 years ago in Filthy
We Matched on Tinder 2
I'm not sure what shocked me more, the fact that she was JUST as hot in person as she was in pictures and over FaceTime or the fact that she wore leggings. After I slyly mentioned don't wear leggings in a sex-related text message that she blatantly ignored per usual. I feel like the latter of the two had me dumb-founded into idiot mode right from the initial greet in which I completely fucked up the initial meet by practically being speechless. I mean speechless to the point where she asked, "what am I not what you expected?" and I had to quickly recover and reassure her that wasn't the case. How terrible of me. But really, that wasn't what I expected. In a good way. I mean we are talking about a woman I had every conversation with under the sun from what we'd name our star athlete kids that we were going to have to what we'd make our wedding colors, but never once no mentioning of what position she wanted me to rail her in post-ceremony.
By J. Authentic4 years ago in Filthy
We matched on Tinder
I'm from the Pacific North-West. Spent nearly a decade in Vegas and a couple of years ago I moved to the midwest. Let me tell you, if you spend 8 years in Las Vegas you become pretty much jaded to anything in the nightlife scene. If not jaded, you find yourself completely burnt out on it. You can label me down as a mixture of the two. Self-praise is no recommendation but I'm a pretty decent looking guy and I'm relatively successful, fending off women has been more of a problem than finding one to take on a date. Until this point. I have no interest in the club scene, been there and done that. Being a doctor this might come across as shocking but sleeping with co-workers is the last thing I want although I probably could of had the ER nurses line up while I make my choice. I'm in my early 30's, how else do I meet someone? No way... I'm never joining the online dating community. That shit is for the desperate, I'm far from desperate.
By J. Authentic4 years ago in Filthy
Femdom Fantasy: The Hostile Takeover
Rage. It makes me see red. I don’t know where it’s coming from, what underground source of anger that’s been simmering away inside me for god knows how long has suddenly boiled over, erupting like Krakatoa, making my whole body vibrate.
By Jupiter Grant4 years ago in Filthy
Caught Out on the Couch
The afternoon was dragging like a zombie’s decaying leg, and I was bored out of my mind. My husband, Mark, had been working continuously throughout all the interminable lockdowns, lugging cargo onto delivery vans for an international courier company; meanwhile I was stuck at home by myself, furloughed, and increasingly lost for something — anything — to pass the time. There was only so much Netflix I could watch in a day before my eyes would get bleary and I’d wind up fast asleep on the couch. It didn’t feel like a very productive way to spend the day, and I didn’t want Mark to come home and find me unconscious and snoring on the sofa. Again.
By Jupiter Grant4 years ago in Filthy
The Invite
I broke a rule, and now here’s my punishment.. But my punishment requires what exactly? He went without speaking to me for weeks at a time, almost two months had passed and he didn’t need me. Then, one crisp winter. I get an envelope at my door; addressed to me: Abigail. That’s not my name, it’s just what servants are called, and no—before you ask; I’m not his handmaiden; well technically, but he doesn’t need an heir from me. Think of me more as his company… or property. Yes, I said it, property. My captor doesn't value women at their highest. We Abigail’s are allowed to roam the estate, and live freely amongst our captors; we aren’t locked away in a room, or told when we can and can not eat or do other things. We Abigail’s are like mistresses, but for the rich. We hold power over who we claim. The thing with my captor is: he was attracted to what he couldn’t have, so he stole me away from my previous captor.
By Mazikeen Quinn4 years ago in Filthy
