fiction
Erotic, romantic, and sexy fiction for the Filthy community.
Rorie's Locket
“Rorie’s Locket” by Stan L. Prager I noticed Rorie limping again because I was watching her step around the scattered stones and rotting trunks at the banks of the little stream. I wasn’t looking for her feet or her limp but rather for snakes. She was terrified of snakes but still she rarely watched her feet when she was down here with the filter pump, crouched at the edge of the water. I also liked to watch her ass. Rorie had a fine ass. It was dark and cool here, out of the sun, and I watched Rorie’s ass while she used steady, rhythmic strokes on the pump until we had two liters of reasonably safe drinking water.
By Stan Prager5 years ago in Filthy
Subspace
Dara snuggled up against Stan smiling as he ran his hand down her side cupping and playing with her breast on the way down her side, slipping his hand into the waist band of her yoga pants to start slowly rubbing her clit. Smiling when she moaned low arching her back against him. shifting slightly Stan pulled his hand from her pants placing both hands at her hips. Pushing gently, he silently got her to stand.
By Marie Ross5 years ago in Filthy
Chaotica
I was dancing at Villa Alpha, one of the most popular nightclubs in New York City. By now, After two years, I was used to the mechanics of it all — the smell of warm, aroused bodies, the impossibly high heels, the skimpy outfits, the gymnastic tricks that would get me extra UniCurrency tips. Today I had on the expensive holographic lingerie that Janet had just given me for my twenty-first birthday. It changed images with my movements. It shifted from scenes of the city skyline to a collage of red lips to glitter and back to the skyline again. It made me a hit with the crowd. I laughed as I did an upside down midair split that earned me a standing ovation. The UC counter on the screen behind me shot up with tips deposited into my account, and there was an explosion of virtual hearts and roses.
By Fatima Kuyateh5 years ago in Filthy
Devoted
Buildings left in a destitute state crumble into rubble, a dusty breeze flutters what remains of a child’s clawed and tattered dress snagged atop a perched inn sign, violently stained with innocent blood. Golden rays of winter’s afternoon sun blanket the deserted streets. Shadow pockets in alleyways and corners steadily creep outward as dusk eerily approaches. In half-plated armor, she passes through the decrepit echo of a once prosperous town long gone. The sheathed rapier buckles by her side as with her every step clicks the rubble beneath her. A silver locket dangles against her breastplate, arcane inscriptions glimmer in the sunlight etched atop the lockets heart-shaped face and a cloud of fog follows her breath in the chill noon air.
By Femi Akinboye5 years ago in Filthy
AFFAIR OF THE HEART
P lacing my forefinger on top of my full red lips, I signalled for my parents to stay still and quiet. Tactfully removing my house keys from the side pocket of my pale brown leather jacket, I called upon my 'ninja skills' and unlocked the entrance door as discreetly and silently as possible.
By Lady Lavinia Dasani5 years ago in Filthy
Maid of (Dis)Honor
I was never much of a dancer. I can bust some freestyle moves on a nightclub dance-floor should the occasion call for it, but when it comes to slow dancing with a partner, I have two left feet. So when it came time for Chris, the best man, and I, the maid of honor, to join the happy couple and dance together to the “Wild is the Wind” by David Bowie, I was petrified.
By Jupiter Grant5 years ago in Filthy
The Deep Fake
Lina sits at her computer, legs folded neatly beneath her, eating top ramen with plastic chopsticks and sifting through terabytes of pornography. Her brow furrows behind thick-rimmed glasses fitted with blue light filters. Despite the precaution, she can feel the onset of a headache.
By David Meyer5 years ago in Filthy
