The Filthy Thirteen Book Novels & Stories

“Don’t worry about that. You’re not the only one who likes filthy books, you know. I like filthy art, too. A load of my stuff is NSFW. Pete loves it.” The relief flooded through me. I’d had no idea how much I’d needed to share the details of my newfound sex life with someone until then. I was still coming to know myself, and getting a glimpse of how far my own sexuality went. I’d never thought my interest in books would come to life, but it had. I was loving every second. Craving more. “Julian’s filthy. Like, really filthy.” “Whips and chains type filthy, or take it up his ass with a cucumber type filthy? Or both?”

My thumbs moved before I could stop myself. Me: I don't know who you are but you have no idea what my life is like. Unknown: I know more than you think. I know how neglected you feel. How your body aches for touch. How you touch yourself at night when he leaves you alone. Heat flooded my face. I should have been terrified. Instead a dark thrill ran through me. My nipples tightened against the thin fabric of my tank top. Between my legs I felt myself growing wet. Me: This is wrong.

My pussy throbbed, sensitive and overstimulated, each tiny movement sending aftershocks of pleasure through my body. I lay there, cheek pressed against the sweat‑slick pillow, listening to the ragged breaths we shared. The guilt was still there, a quiet whisper at the edge of my mind, but it was muted by the overwhelming, filthy satisfaction of being taken so completely, so roughly, by the man who was supposed to be my mother’s husband. My fingers traced the faint crescents on my hips, reminders of the night’s brutality, and I felt a strange, ashamed pride swell, I survived it. I enjoyed it.

I was exactly where I was meant to be. The friction was absolute madness. Every time his thick hips slammed down against mine, a dirty, wet sound echoed between us, testifying to how hopelessly drenched I was around him. I arched my back, completely shameless, tilting my pelvis up to catch the full, bruising depth of his thrusts. I was acting like a total slut for him, my fingers digging into the mattress as I begged for more, my thighs shaking violently where he kept them pinned apart.

“That empires don’t fall from the outside. They rot from within.” The doors slid open. Zariah didn’t wait for him to step forward, she slipped out first, every movement precise. But his words stayed with her, echoing louder than the sound of her own footsteps. Inside. The betrayal wasn’t just circling her. It was in her walls, her blood, her closest circle. And she had a sinking suspicion of exactly where to look. Damian’s POV Damian hated secrets. Not because he couldn’t keep them, he could, better than anyone. But because they had a way of bleeding into everything, staining trust, staining love, until nothing pure remained.

he’d say. “Please, Ethan, fuck me! please.” She moaned. Maya’s fingers fucked deeper, thumb mashing her clit in tight circles. Her thighs trembled and her breaths were slower as she moved her hands into herself faster. The way Ethan will fuck her. The way she saw him fucking that girl. “Ethan, Oh.” She moaned louder and her fingers hit spot that made her vision blur. The door opened. “Lila, did you take…” Ethan froze mid step as he took in Maya laying there on his sister bed finger fucking herself.

he roared, his palm rubbing quickly on my tip making me over sensitive, my thighs frailed. “Fucking horny bastard! You like the humiliation?” I whimpered, fucking his wet palm. “Yesssss” I hissed. “You're a needy pig who loves being fucked mercilessly by strangers, huh?” My eyes rolled but no words came out. “Fucking answer me, you cum pig” he barked. “Yes” I shouted, high on pleasure, my cock twitching at his dirty words. “Clear off the road, Martins” “Yes, Sir”

I hung up and set the phone down, my hands still trembling from everything crashing together at once. The money he was offering the filthy journal the way my pussy would not stop aching. Professor Voss leaned in closer again, his body heat reaching me as he picked up the journal and held it out to me. “We are not done Riley. Open it to page twenty three. The one where I describe edging a shy girl until she is dripping down her thighs and begging for cock. Read it aloud for me. Slowly. Let me hear every filthy word in your voice and watch how wet it makes you.”