fiction
Erotic, romantic, and sexy fiction for the Filthy community.
Dark Guest
One night, as she lay on her bed, she woke up with a gasp for breath, she noticed an eerie feeling, but rather than fear it she contemplated it, and savoured it, like a taste that you can't decide weather or not you like or dislike. The random event started to repeat itself; she'd wake up with a strange feeling of someone watching her, and gradually fall back into sleep, a feeling that went from monthly, to weekly, to daily in a short space of time.
By Sheara Kerry8 years ago in Filthy
Loner's Retreat: Santana & Jonas, Part 1
SANTANA Santana Davis, or currently known as Mrs. Santana Martinez, twisted the ends of her curls as she stared at her new husband who was too engrossed in reading the newspaper to notice. The bright rays coming from the sun were beaming through their opened windows, bringing life into their quiet room. She'd never been married before, but she couldn't imagine it was supposed to be this boring. They were on their honeymoon and they were supposed to be getting complaints from the other guests over how loud their sex noises were, not basking in the silence that was slowly killing her.
By Sharlene Alba8 years ago in Filthy
The Proposition Finale
It has been a full year since I had met Mr. Alexander in the subway. A year of great sex in compromising positions and public locations. A year of arriving places in private cars and watching my bank account climb to a comfortable place. A year of erotic memories and yet I know as much about Mr. Alexander now as I had a year ago. I did know, however, that I only felt about him what one would feel about their boss. There was absolutely no romantic connection at all. We fucked, screwed, got laid; we didn't make love. As the year had progressed, Mr. Alexander's tone did improve. He would often begin sentences with "if you're not too busy" or "if you don't mind" rather than barking out commands the way he had before. To wrap up our relationship, we were cordial when our clothes were on and sexual soulmates when they came off. I was unsure what the end of the year meant. Was I only on contract for a year or was it more permanent until he settled down into an actual relationship? I had been paying for my apartment while I stayed here just in case so I wasn't too worried but if I could keep this thing going for a little while longer I was going to do what I could. Me. Alexander thought it best that I stay the Thanksgiving holiday with my family to "maintain appearances." It was great spending a whole week with my parents and other family members but I would be lying if I said toward the end I wasn't more than happy to get back. My loins ached for him and I began having withdrawals from not cumming in such a long period of time. He had definitely been feeling the same; when I got back he fucked me so hard and for so long, I had to soak to take the swelling off of my sore pussy. So when I got back I agreed eagerly to spend the Christmas holiday with him. I didn't know how this thing worked. Not just because he hired me, but buying gifts for anyone in general. I was unsure if I was supposed to even give him a gift, I didn't even know if he would be getting me anything, but after some careful thought, I decided to go for it. He has changed my life completely around, that's gift enough. I go and wash up and get dressed and head for the store I've found on the internet that sells the type of gift I have in mind.
By V.E Sanders8 years ago in Filthy
Jingle Bed Rock (Part 1)
Christmas has always brought out the erotic side of me. The cold weather, romantic scenes in Christmas movies and the sensual gift ideas do not make it any better. This is something that Levar knew and understood. With his high sex drive and my sensual prowess being in heat despite the cold temperatures, things were going to be rocking around the Christmas tree, under the mistletoe, and in the bedroom.
By Merlin Mystique8 years ago in Filthy
Loner's Retreat: Angelina & Julie, Part 6
JULIE If being in the car with your ex-lover and your new one wasn't awkward, Julie didn't know what was. According to Miguel, shit had hit the fan while the doctors were doing their best to hydrate her with fluids and electrolytes and letting her catch up on some much needed sleep with a sedative. Exhaustion. That's what they chalked all of this up to. From her point of view in the backseat of this rental car, it seemed like Julie wasn't the only one suffering from it.
By Sharlene Alba8 years ago in Filthy
First Time
I couldn't help not thinking about him. His unshaven chiseled chin. His slender yet muscular body. His piercing deep blue eyes. His full, perfect lips that felt so good, no matter where he kissed me. Then his cock, just thinking of it gives me goosebumps and makes my privates wet. After all, he is the one that took my virginity.
By Joy Ergang8 years ago in Filthy
Fantasy
Watching her lay there, sleeping naked, in my bed. Absolutely breathtaking. Especially after the incredible night we had last night. Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face. I never thought I would have that kind of experience with another woman. I always fantasized about what we did, and to finally have done it was mesmerizing.
By Joy Ergang8 years ago in Filthy
You're Mine, Tennis Slut
I want you to hear my mind. I want my thoughts to penetrate your brain so deep you cannot focus on anything else. Feel what I feel. I want you to feel the burn of my loins. I sit by the green mesh fence listening to your grunts every time you swing for the ball and I wait for my run. The ball is dropped and I run with a hunched back across the middle of the court, collect the ball, and sniff it tacitly. If I can do so discreetly without being seen I will lick it, lick the sweat of your hard work from the round object and imagine it wedged in your mouth while I tie you to the umpire’s chair for everyone to see. They will all see you for the vulgar little skank that you are. I will display you with your legs strapped wide open so everyone can look in and know that your pussy is ragged. Your skirt is too short. The ends of your perfectly ironed white pleats barely touch the crease in your ass cheek. You little slut. I want you to feel my cock head pushing into your mouth and bruising the inside of your cheek. I want you to feel my erection, the one I get every time I run to collect your dropped ball. Each time you raise your arm to serve I want you to feel my tongue lapping up the sweat from your armpit. When you walk onto the court I want you to feel my eyes bore into your skin. I want you to know in your subconscious each time when I perform my onanism over you at home in my den, a picture of you in my hand. Every time I soil that piece of paper with your face on it I want you to feel the dampness of my vile seed on your nose and chin. I want you to know that I am obsessed with you and I want you to feel unnerved and cold in your bones. When you leave the court covered in perspiration I am the one who walks closely behind you towards the changing rooms, turning off at the last minute to walk into the men’s room next door. I am the one who smells your towels. I am the one who scatters your clothes across the changing room floor so you have to run around naked collecting them up while I peep through the crack in the wall. I am your worst nightmare and you are my disgusting wet dream. You dance across the court as you play with deliberate pseudo gracefulness and femininity which gloats like a neon sign towards my direction. You cannot pretend to me you are an innocent girl. You are a promiscuous, dirty, tennis playing slut. You don’t know it yet but you will fear me. You will not know for a long time that your stalker is your ball boy. I am so close to you every day. I hang around in the background and look on with a vague sympathetic face as I listen in to your complaints. Concerns you tell your opponent about the feeling you have when you are changing in the changing rooms. The feeling you have that you are being watched. Not being able to sleep at night convinced there is someone lurking in the bushes outside your house. There is. That person is me. One day you will feel my breath close to your skin. One day you will know my name. One day you will no longer look at the poor ball boy (who won’t amount to much) with a patronising fake smile. I want you, tennis slut. One day you will be mine.
By Ava Sheridon8 years ago in Filthy
The Proposition Pt 3
I slumped into the chair in my living room feeling very accomplished. I had finished all of my errands early and had nothing to do for the rest of the day before getting ready to go to work later on tonight. I was living a pretty comfortable life, not like some of the other hookers that lived five people to a room or had to give up what little self-worth they had to live with a pimp. My bills were always late and I had resorted to sucking my land lord's dick when I was short on the rent, but I was on my own. I had food to eat, lights, and even a few pieces of furniture; I was doing alright. I was beginning to doze when there was a knock on the door. I'm never expecting anyone, but I get up anyway to answer, "Hold on, hold on, I'm coming. Rico, if this is you, you're going to pay me! I wasn't short on rent and I don't give head for free."
By V.E Sanders8 years ago in Filthy
