Historical Erotica Novels & Stories

She was both nervous and excited about what was going to happen and she hated how he made her wait. She had always heard about the dangers of getting involved with older men as it could be addictive and she hadn't believed it. But there was something undeniably magnetic about George. She could see it now in the way he was strongly built and sexy, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and chest. The thought of exploring that body, once considered taboo, now sent a ripple of anticipation down her spine.

She winked as she came out from behind the bar counter, walking into the gallery. "Here we have everything that is photographie érotique, you'll see pieces that date all the way back to the start of the renaissance as well as contemporary pieces that were created by some of your colleagues. The spectrum of pieces is quite broad on this floor," Nancy explained as she took a sip from the tall glass she was holding. "I imagine you wish to have your works scattered across these walls one day, no?" "I mean, who wouldn't want to have their art displayed in a sex museum?" I looked at her, letting out a soft laugh. Nancy laughed along, looking down at the gold encased watch on her wrist.

Sadile nodded, her body trembling with anticipation, as she surrendered to the pleasure that awaited her, to the unknown delights that Travis and Jenna promised. The night was young, and she knew that the pleasures that lay ahead would be beyond anything she could have imagined. As Travis's lips met hers once more, Sadile felt herself being drawn into a world of sensation, a world where pleasure reigned supreme, and she was the willing participant, the eager student, ready to learn, ready to explore, ready to surrender to the erotic dance that was about to unfold. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the walls, as the three of them moved in a rhythm as old as time, a rhythm that spo

Jeremy leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, his t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps. “No, thanks,” she said, not looking up. He ignored her and stepped in anyway. “Sci-fi fan huh?” He said, picking up a stack of novels. “Yeah,” she said, low but a bit panicked because what if he saw? Just as he was about to dig further. “Jeremy, wait, don’t touch that.” Too late, he had already picked it up. “Oh?” he said, staring at the book, then back at her. “Dark romance? Erotica? I didn’t know you were kinky like that.” He teased.

They had taken turns with her for hours , passing her around and every single one of them had cum inside her or on her body. She loved every second of it. She had even, and still spread her legs willingly for two of the married male teachers in the staff room during lunch breaks, letting them fuck her quietly whenever they needed relief. She couldn’t help it. Deep down, Elena was a slut by nature. She loved the thrill of being used, of giving her body freely with nothing expected in return. She could never say no when someone wanted to fuck her. She would gladly spread her legs wide and let them pound her as hard and as long as they wanted.

It seemed to all happen so quickly that we really hadn't put much thought into filling the void so we found ourselves most evenings to ourselves trying to find something interesting to do. Slowly, we found the sexual side of things beginning to heat back up. It began as simply more frequent sex as we didn't have to find stolen moments and progressed into marathon sessions of making love that often found us exhausted at work the next day as our play had gone on well past midnight. We had always been rather conservative in bed. On my part, I think I worshipped her so much I treated her like a China doll. Something like a Madonna complex. However, as we enjoyed our new sexual freedom we also fo

The assigned text, Bataille’s Erotism, was a descent into philosophical darkness. It spoke of the sacred and the profane, of violence as a gateway to ecstasy, of transgression as a necessary rupture of the mundane world. Elara read it in her small apartment, her body still sore and marked from the last session, the words resonating in her bones. She understood, now, that her thesis was not merely an academic exercise. It was a lived experience, a mapping of her own violation and transcendence.

The chat went wild, replaying that line: ‘Are you completely insane? Okay, I was out of tricks. I’m just a flimsy, pitiful, helpless erotica heroine. No sudden superhuman survival skills kicking in at the eleventh hour. I threw up my hands. No point fighting it anymore. “You don’t believe me? Fine. Ask him yourself later. Let’s see…” I pretended to think. “Why don’t you start with… ‘Did she kiss you yesterday?’ How about that?” Right then, the system chimed in again.

Something aching to be molded. I met him in my Tuesday night workshop. "Erotics of Language"—a curated space for writers who wanted to learn how to use sensuality in storytelling. Most came in with curiosity or thinly veiled hunger. He came in with a notebook gripped like a lifeline and questions trembling on his lips. I noticed him in the third session. He waited until everyone had left to speak to me. “I—um—can I ask you something… off the record?” I folded my arms, tilted my head. “You just did.”

I gripped her hips and fucked her in a steady rhythm, watching the way her body took the thick cock, the way her back arched when I angled just right. “That’s it,” I murmured. “Take it.” I picked up the pace, still controlled but harder, the harness slapping against her skin. Each thrust dragged a louder cry out of her. I reached around and found her clit, rubbing tight circles while I drove into her. Her thighs started to shake. .. .. Author's POV The meanwhile, outside the closed door of Sophia and Mary’s room, a small cluster of nuns had gathered in the dim hallway. The thick stone walls couldn’t fully muffle the sounds coming from inside...they listen to each moan