erotic
Erotic in nature. Content that discusses erotic acts, films, art, or fantasies.
The Country and the Flower
She knew the minute their eyes met. They were the same. Outside, a bookish intellectual type who hides behind computer screens and masks. Inside, a ravenous and unquenchable thirst. At a lecture for the liberal arts center of Atlanta, discussing BDSM in literature and it's effect on women's empowerment, they all gathered. Some were genuinely interested in the topic, but Lily came for the sheer excitement of a discussion of her guiltiest pleasure so publicly.
By Pandora Darkblood8 years ago in Filthy
"Spank Me...Please" (Part Three)
"Let's get in your rig." Leah turned to get into the second row seating of her Suburban, thankful for the tinted windows and the added privacy they would offer while she was inside with Mike. After she had opened the door, Mike grabbed her arm, then drew his body close behind her own. He whispered gruffly in her ear:
By LP Steinbeck8 years ago in Filthy
Sir
The rain pounded on the melting city, desperately trying to wash the sin out of the trampled streets. My arm extended from the doors of grand central as I felt the drops collect in my embracing palm. My umbrella shot to life, unruffling its vinyl wings and shaking the sleep off its hinges. As I walked down 42nd, my shoes tapped to the rhythm of the storm while my nose was caressed by the smell of the market, fresh loaves of bread lined up to be slit open, and all sorts of cheeses waiting to be poured over the severed bread, delicious murder. My feet suddenly pivoted as I was crossing Lexington. Like a school boy, I eyed the large building that loomed over me, staring down at me, secretive, mysterious, beckoning even. Sedating the fluttering umbrella, I entered the dark lobby. A distant ding rang through the halls as an elevator somewhere opened. The doorman sat at his desk, face silhouetted by the dim lamp that threw itself at him. His eyes were in one place but his mind was definitely in quite another. His throat, an old carburetor, sputtered as he focused his gaze on me. I nearly expected him to mutter “oil can,” but instead in a booming voice that shook his own frame, he said, “Welcome Monsieur, can I be of any assistance today?”
By Fredrick Morgan8 years ago in Filthy
