Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Filthy.
“La Chatte à moitié moite”
The story of the half-wet pussy transpired on a cruise ship sailing around Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands before the pandemic. It was a good time, indeed, notwithstanding the pussy already a marvel by itself and wet, albeit only half all around the circumference and, of course, inside where it is always warm and nice. Very nice, methinks, now that I visualize the scene. I will never forget it, and soon, you will not either when you read all about it in the upcoming paragraphs full of the right words. No! The true words of the half-wet pussy. It all occurred in French. It is true that it sounded better in some parts. But when I sensed that English was going down, I recited some shameless Shakespeare, and Molière was put to bed, both literally and figuratively, which seemed to be the same, at least at the time.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Filthy
Hospitality Confessions: Mario and I Continue Our Little Affair and Have Sex All Over the Restaurant
Mario and I were all over each other all the time after that. If I thought I was totally revved up and full of sexual energy before I had no clue. This was something totally different. Every time no one was looking Mario had his hands on my ass, up my skirt, all over me. I was perpetually wet.
By Autumn Seave5 years ago in Filthy
That One Time I Did Her In The Women’s Restroom
It was surprisingly cold that day, unlike regular Bombay winters. I was carrying my jacket, so I gave it to Soniya as we talked towards the library. Boys don’t feel cold when they are with their girlfriends, do they?
By Vaibhav Bhosle5 years ago in Filthy
Tales of Bette: Ozzy's Perspective. After the Photo Session
Bette On It: Weird Adolescence. Senior Year 2003-2004. Excerpt... It was Sunday December 21st. Bette and Ozzy were working on their psychology homework together. They weren't in the same class period, but they had the same teacher and the same homework, so it was easy to have an excuse to get together to do the work. The psych homework was done quickly. Bette wore a long skirt that day so if she and Ozzy could have an opportunity to hook up, she'd be able to do so quickly. She also brought her camera with her to get some shots of Ozzy for both photography class and for themselves. She put in a separate roll of film in the camera just for them. She told him to take his guitar and play in a place that felt natural, where he felt his best; he sat on his bed. She told him to keep playing and she would do the rest. He started performing songs from his notebook. She adjusted the blinds and let the natural light come in. It was difficult to work with, but she loved the lines it created on him. The snow outside enhanced the brightness of the sunlight. She gave him a fixed point saying this spot was his audience, if you're going to look, look there. She moved to different points of the room focusing, refocusing, and clicking the camera while he performed for her. She constantly had to adjust the blinds to the changing light, but she didn't care. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she loved him. She stood in the spot where she told him his fixed-point audience was and she watched him through the camera. He was sexy, passionate, and alive, but something was missing.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her5 years ago in Filthy
Prick Versus Pussy
What a biased confrontation is that involving a prick versus a pussy! Laugh out loud, indeed! Can you hear me laughing? Even M can hear me inside. Which narrator I am can only be guessed. Even I don’t know who I am. The conflict between M and Patrick has gone out of hand. They’re basically leaving us narrators to write whatever we want. One of us, I forget who, is in charge of wood. You know, writing about trees before they magically become shelves. Another is in charge of AI. He seems to be having a blast, but he’s running out of free pics. Maybe Medium could provide all photos, even those in his heart.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Filthy
Pussy Evolution
M can surely be described as a strange man, especially that he is half of a man given that his other half, Patrick, lives in Athens with Goddess Athena. What? a new reader may ask. It is too long and winding to go into here, but you could always read Patrick’s thirteen-part series about my Eléni’s first visit to Greece to speak to Goddess Athena and find him, Patrick. As I just mentioned, it is somewhat convoluted and even requires other reads of poems and short stories to see the whole picture. And Eléni’s name was Cryssarina at the beginning. Even Anthi Psomiadou, who was a character in that long series may need more time to grasp the true meaning(s) surrounding both Patrick and myself, and Eléni as well. However, it is not the topic of this story as the title declares almost out loud.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Filthy
