Famous Erotica Novels & Stories

Clara Vale lived on the 12th floor of an old, rundown building in downtown São Paulo. At 32, she was the undisputed queen of bestselling erotic romances. Her books sold by the thousands: Fuck Me Until Dawn, where the protagonist was destroyed by a mafioso with a 23-centimeter cock; Fireman’s Dick — the irony of fate hitting hard now — and her most recent one, Emergency Orgasm, which had spent three straight weeks at the top of the charts.

“No one has to know. You’ll still be my devoted secretary by day but after hours, when the church is empty and the lights go dim you’ll be my secret little cumdump. My private release whenever I need to empty these heavy balls.” The crude, wicked term should have shocked me. Instead it made my pussy throb with fresh need. I nodded before I could stop myself. Pastor Elias smiled as he pulled me to my feet and turned me around, bending me gently over the wide oak desk. Papers scattered as he pushed my skirt up to my waist, exposing my simple white panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and slowly dragged them down my legs, leaving me bare from the waist down. “So pretty and pink,” he

My mouth watered. “Look at that pretty pink pussy,” he murmured. “Still dripping from earlier. You love being used, don’t you, Hazel?” “Yes, Derick,” I whispered, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. He rolled his chair closer. “Crawl to me.” I did, on all fours, stopping between his spread thighs. His cock stood thick and heavy, veins pulsing, the head already leaking precum. It looked even bigger up close. “Clean it first,” he said, voice dark. “With your tongue.”

My thighs pressed together on instinct, but it was already too late. A slick rush of wetness flooded my panties, hot and sudden, soaking the delicate lace until it clung to my swollen fold. My clit pulsed hard, as if his voice had whispered the command straight against my skin. God. I was dripping. Just from an email. Just from the knowledge that the most explicit thing I’d ever written...forty-three pages of raw, shameless fantasy...was now sitting in his inbox. I had submitted the wrong file. On Monday night I’d been running on cold coffee and three hours of sleep, watching a course submission portal count down the last two minutes before the deadline.

His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his hard, chiseled chest and the dark tattoo that marked his dominance. He lounged at the marble island, his powerful arms carefully crossed over his chest as he watched my glistening thighs while I bent down to pick up items from the lower cupboard. He had kept the vibrator inside me all day while I cooked, punishing and rewarding me in equal measure. *I feel so hot that I can’t think straight… every little movement makes it grind against that spot. I’m so wet it’s dripping down my thighs.* I thought while trying not to touch myself, I would rather not earn anything worse than this delicious torment.

The first results were articles with bold headlines: "Damien Cross: The Painter of Desire" "Eroticism in Strokes and Shadows" "The Man Who Turns Skin into Stories" She clicked one. A grainy photograph of a tall man in a black shirt appeared, his face half-turned away from the camera. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to be staring at something far beyond the frame. He looked… untouchable. Like he belonged to another world. Then she saw his paintings. Her breath caught.

“Although the erotic scenes are beautifully written, the plot is hella boring.” Theo let out a deep chuckle, leaning back on the couch. “Finally, someone that gets it. I mean, it has so much potential to be a blast, right?” “Exactly,” Nico continued to flip through the book. “Sex is cool and all but it’s boring when it happens without any plot. You know what I mean?” Theo scoffed. “You mean like these p**n videos that just get into the whole thing without any prior action.” Nico watched him quietly, the corners of his lips tilted up in a small smile. “You sound like you know your game.”

A painful bulge grew slowly between his thighs, followed by a pooling drool as his cock oozed precum even without being fully aroused. The client lowered himself to Jace’s level, his lips slightly brushing his earlobe while his hot breath hovered above a certain spot on his neck, slowly entrancing Jace. “You know…” he began, his voice deep and gravelly with sin and raw desire. “It’s the first time you’ve looked this long.” Then, he nibbled on his earlobe, blowing hot air into it as his firm grip held Jace in place. Jace’s cock twitched uncomfortably in his pants, his head turning light as the client threatened to drown him in pleasure.

I couldn't believe I had just sniffed Amaris' panties, what a rush. I dropped the panties back where they were and began to check the drawer. In it, she had some lotion, fingernails, and a book. In the bottom drawer, that is where the fun begins. She had 3 dildos of various sizes, lube, a vibrator, and a p**n magazine, which caught my attention. I grabbed and opened the magazine and started to flip through it. There was a naked posting for each session, and there was a picture of a girl licking the pussy of another girl. I wonder if this turned Amaris in as much as it did to me.

This is a lesbian erotica story, enjoy! “Bang!” I jump, looking behind me. My best friend, Joanna, eyes me as I stare at myself in the mirror, flipping her hair over her face. She smiles, “You do realise it’s my wedding night, right?” I turn swiftly, my hand resting on my hips as I glare at her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She laughs, quenching my anger instantly. “Meaning why don’t you come help me with my hair instead of primping yourself for Jimmy.”