How To Write Erotica Novels & Stories

He waited through every tremor, every aftershock, letting her ride it out until the last flutter faded. Then slowly, he urged her legs to wrap around his hips. And began to move. Leisurely, he moved. Sensual. Deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along her sensitive walls. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, her sweat, arousal, and the faint trace of lavender shampoo from last night’s bath “Fuck, Charlotte… so hot… so tight… so wet…”

I was already soaked, my pussy lips were swollen and slick. He watched every move I made. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, it was thick and hard. The head was already wet with precum, he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly. “Tell me what you wrote,” he said. I kept rubbing my clit in small circles. My breath came faster. “I wrote about a man coming in after closing. He bends me over the desk, he pulls my skirt up and fucks me hard.” He stroked faster. “Keep going.”

They were both impressed that I have already published a half dozen books that have been fairly successful. “I love the Erotic Wizard book you wrote,” Fiona purred. It amazed me that she had already read one of my books. “I get aroused every time I think about those steamy sex scenes you described,” she announced openly. There was a short silence that followed and Franny was grinning broadly when I glanced over at her.

He began to write. The nib was cold against my left breast, the slow, elegant cursive tracing the first sentence across the upper swell: “I will ruin you slowly, letter by letter, until every inch of your skin begs for my cock.” The ink was chill; my nipples hardened into painful, aching points. He continued across the right breast, describing in meticulous detail how he would stretch my holes until I sobbed his name. The pen dragged lower across my ribs, my quivering stomach, the sensitive dip of my navel. Every word sent shivers racing over my skin; the tickle of the nib made my clit throb in time with my pulse. When he reached my hipbones he paused to read aloud what he’d written. Then he

I spread my legs wider, let my knees fall open and expose all of my secrets to him. "I hurt so bad. Make it feel better. Please?" I rock my hips, down and up, pretending I'm fucking him, hands on my breasts, fingers pinching and pulling on my nipples. "Need it so bad." Luca leans over me, cock length rubs against my exposed cunt, sliding over my bare lips, the delicate friction sending shards of pleasure through me. He braces his hands on either side of my head, gaze boring into mine while he flexes his hips, slides that slick cock along my slit achingly slow.

We began talking erotically to each other during our love making and her use of dirty words, something she had never done before, always resulted in strong orgasms from both of us. I think the event that lead to our sexual breakthrough was when we decided to put our fantasies on paper. We were sitting around reading and drinking coffee one night when the subject of sex came up. I was feeling a bit bold that evening so I began pestering her about her fantasies. I wanted her to tell me what she fantasized about when she was alone masturbating. This was still a difficult subject for her so after some prodding with little results I had an idea. We would each take ten cards and envelopes and writ

“Come for me again.” __________________________________ Lila let out slow, shallow pants, as heat pooled low in her belly, her panties completely soaked. She pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only made it worse. Why did writing these scenes about him always do this to her? It wasn’t just words on a page anymore — it felt real. She could almost imagine Kai Lennox’s hands on her, his voice in her ear, his body pressing her down. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, one hand drifting down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts. Her fingers brushed over her slick folds, circling her clit.

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.

My fingers slipped inside, through soft curls, and found a scorching, drenched heat. "Keep going," I breathed, my middle finger sliding through her slick folds, circling her entrance. "Nicholas... Nick... don't... I mean..." But her protest was weak, her body arching into my touch. "Keep talking. Tell me how to make her come." "You can... talk to her... tell her she tastes good, that you love it... mash your tongue onto her clit... pulse it in time with your fingers... keep doing that... just like that... yes..."

Her thighs shook harder and a dark spot showed on the light fabric shorts she wore. Damien finally stopped hitting the bag. He stood still for a moment, chest rising and falling. Then he began walking deliberately toward her hiding spot. His steps were slow and quiet on the concrete floor. Lila was too lost in what she was doing to notice right away. Her hand moved quickly inside her shorts again. Her hips rocked forward. Her breathing turned into soft, desperate pants. She rubbed her clit fast now, no longer holding back as much. The fantasy felt so real. She could almost feel Damien’s body pressing against hers, his thick cock stretching her open. Her free hand squeezed her breast through