Filthy Pov Novels & Stories

His stern voice, low and menacing, whispered into my ear like a death sentence: “Open your eyes and look at the garbage and sewage beneath this shiny city. If you were born into a poor family, you’d have a gambling father and a p.rostitute mother. They’d sell you to a nightclub after your first period, then take the money and leave you to die. You’d spend your life in a dark, filthy nightclub, where the manager would f.uck you in the name of discipline before you even got your first guest. They’d inject you with drugs, and you’d be dependent on them. If you died, they’d dump your body in an alley filled with filth, waiting for the garbage man to clean you up.”

“They start on my breasts, Father. Squeezing them, pinching my nipples until they ache. Then they slide down my stomach… between my legs. Rubbing my… my cunt. Pushing fingers inside while I moan.” “Good girl,” he murmured, and I heard the rustle of his cassock like he was adjusting himself. “Keep going. Do you imagine these hands belonging to someone forbidden? Do you get wet thinking about it?” “Yes,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “So wet. I rub my clit in circles until I come, imagining a man holding me down, filling me up even though I know it’s wrong. I feel so dirty afterwards but I can’t stop.” The screen door clicked. He stepped out of his side and opened mine, towering over me.

I saw the tips trickle in, I told myself it was just for money but when the first tip hit—it was fifty dollars from someone named Regular47. Then he typed—“show us how wet you’re getting, beautiful.” My breath hitched. I slipped the strap down my shoulders, then the other, letting the lace slip away until my breasts spilled free. I rolled my nipples between my fingers until they ached. The first night I came quietly with two fingers buried deep inside me while the camera caught only my mouth parted and my thighs trembling. I whispered things I’d never said out loud to Mark. “I need to be filled… I need my pussy to be stretched until I couldn't think.” The shame hit right after orgasm but the

The second I was close enough, he pulled me down onto his lap, straddling him. “You’ve been wet since we took off, haven’t you?” he murmured, sliding his hand under my dress. “Cocky bastard,” I whispered. His fingers pushed my panties aside and stroked me slowly. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Already soaked,” he said with dark satisfaction. “My dirty little wife.” He slid two thick fingers inside me without warning. My head fell forward onto his shoulder. “Ahh— fuck…” The moan slipped out before I could stop it, low and shaky.

Once I was done, I took a long shower and put on one of the filthiest nightgowns I had. I had bought it a few months ago but never had the opportunity to use it. It was completely see through and it barely covered my ass. It was black and it was tied in front with a bow. I made sure not to wear any underwear and I covered it up with one of my more decent black cover-ups.

The rest of us took her lead and seated ourselves around the basement, Jonie and Mitch together on the couch with the rest of us finding chairs. “I’m not exactly sure. Whatever it was had to do with their personal dirt.” “Personal dirt?” “When the Dirt blows in, it brings with it everybody’s personal dirt.” “What do you mean?” “Those things in our lives that we’d like to stay buried, forgotten, in other words, our personal dirt. Here’s mine.” She went over to the computer and jiggled the mouse, dismissing the screensaver. Underneath the screensaver was the F******k page of a man in his late forties.

Destroy my and A Deer's Erhai dream! What gives you the right to easily destroy what others have worked so hard to get! He said it was dirty? Calling this money dirty? She didn't open her thighs to be fucked, she didn't go and take off her clothes to sell her meat ...... She sold her dignity, she sold her soul for the money ...... She gave birth to her father, so who is he to say that she is dirty! Say this money dirty! At all, nothing to understand! He said this money is dirty, it is easy to tear up?

, I asked reaching to touch his hand. He pulled away. "Don't touch me with that filty hand of yours", he said. I chuckled, "My hands are filthy? you know it's funny because you're the one who has been doing drugs, running an illegal oil company and trafficking kids for years using the company as a cover up but I suck cock and I'm filty" He looked at me with shock "How did you-"

now means this: being used, being claimed, being emptied out on a carpet while skyscrapers watch. And then… the bath. The cleaning. That’s the part that would break me. After he’s been inside you, after he’s made you scream, he washes you like a child. Like something precious he’s just finished using. It’s the ultimate mind-fuck. You’re not a slut; you’re a treasure he just dirtied and is now polishing. How do you come back from that? How do you look at a normal man who fucks you and then falls asleep?

“Make out. Both of you. And don’t be quiet. Tell each other what dirty little sluts you are.” Sophia smiled and pulled me close. Our wet bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing, as we kissed deeply. Our tongues slid against each other, the kiss turning sloppy and hungry. “I’m such a filthy slut,” Sophia whispered against my lips. “Letting two men use my holes while my best friend watches.” I moaned softly, grinding against her thigh. “I’m worse. I’m a professor who fucks her student and begs for more. Such a desperate cock-hungry whore.”