Filthy sex is my favourite sex. Sex where we get messy and sticky and sweaty. When the smell of his come mixes with the smell of his sweat and my cunt and the lube and oh God everything.
Grinding against each other on the living room carpet, pouring handfuls of lube out to smear on me, before fucking me hard so I have to gasp to catch my breath.
Spitting into my hand to lube up his dick. Spitting on his dick to lube up his dick.
Him. Spitting. In. My. Mouth.
Filth – and filthy sex – means different things to different people. To some it means sloppy, gloopy mess – splosh-style custard or body oil, or something else that’s slick and wet and sticky.
To others it means something darker: mess like the kind you’d get from outside, as you kneel in your knickers in the mud in the woods. And have someone fuck your face.
Still others see it as a metaphor. There need be no literal filth – just the hint of it. That ‘dirtiness’ that comes from doing something taboo.
For others it’s piss. Actual hot, wet jets of piss trickling down your neck and chest. Warming you and humiliating you and doing all the good things.
Filthy sex, to me, is about all of these things and none of them. Filthy sex can be messy in a sweet way – sugar and scented lube and the grinning, wet lips of the person who’s tasting it. It can be mud-puddles and facefucking, or me squatting in a park at midnight gripping on to the climbing frame to keep my balance while I spit on his dick. It might be crouching meekly in a shower stall with my face covered in sweat and spunk, and begging him to piss the filth away.
And sometimes it’s none of these things. Sometimes there’s no substance that’s filthy, or dirty, or that you couldn’t smear on yourself in polite society. Sometimes filth is a feeling, and the filthy sex comes not from what’s being spat, pissed or smeared, but from the gut-punch of hotness when I’m being used or treated as if I am bad. As if I am dirty. The invisible stain of faux-shame that comes from doing something taboo.
Filthy sex is all of these things, and none of these things. And to me it is everything.
Spit in my mouth and piss on my tits and run your hand down into my knickers to feel the spunk that’s pooled in the gusset.
Then fuck me like I’m dirty and you cannot wash me clean.
In filth. In love. Forever and ever and ever and… fuck.
Now wash your fucking hands.
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