Why I Read Erotica (and You Should Too!)

Outside of very specific environments, it’s not “cool” to admit you read and enjoy erotica. E.L James might now be a household name, but people still occasionally try to convince me that they read Fifty Shades of Grey for the gripping plot.

A woman reading a book pictured from shoulders to hips. For a post about eroticaI think erotica gets a bad rap for several reasons. Firstly, it’s written and read by women more than men. Unfortunately, work by/about/aimed towards women still tends to be regarded as frivolous. (See: anything with a female protagonist risks being labelled “chick lit”). Similarly, content connected to sex is also still treated as something shameful, dirty, secretive, or something to be embarrassed about.

I also think this is a damn shame. A lot of erotica is absolutely wonderful. Masturbation is important, sex is important, arousal is important! Despite myths to the contrary, writing good smut is hard work and requires a lot of skill.

Read on to find out why I think sexy fiction is the most underrated genre and why we can all use it in our lives.

A safe way to explore your fantasies and limits

Reading about something is generally infinitely safer than doing it. Let’s say you have a kink or interest you can’t explore in reality for some reason, or aren’t ready to explore in reality yet. Reading about it can be a great way to scratch that itch. You can’t get hurt by reading about something, no-one else’s consent is required, it’s not cheating. (Dear God, if your partner thinks erotica – or porn, or masturbation – is cheating, break up with them like three years ago).

Reading about something and exploring if it turns you on in a masturbation setting is lower pressure than exploring with another person, especially if you’re not sure if it will work for you or not.

And in case you’re wondering: yes, it’s fine to get turned on by something in fiction that you wouldn’t want to act out in real life!

Introduces you to new kinks, roles, scenes and ideas

I was reading erotic fiction with dominance and submission themes long before I was practicing BDSM in real life. Erotica helped me to discover the types of scenarios that interested me, the names and words that turn me on… and also, the things that completely leave me cold. Reading woman-on-woman scenes was actually a huge part of coming to accept my own bisexuality.

Erotica can introduce you to kinks you never knew existed (ask me how I learned that orgasm control is a thing), make you feel less alone (ask me how I discovered that I wasn’t the only freak in the world who liked to pretend to be a naughty schoolgirl and get spanked), or even help you open up lines of communication about certain kinks with your partner (ask me how I let Mr CK know I have a medical examination fetish).

If you’re not sure what you’re into? Pick up a sexy compilation collection to give you lots of ground to explore.

It can make it quicker, easier or more enjoyable to achieve orgasm

The best way for me to get going pre-wank is to read some really good smut. It works better than visual porn and, usually, better than my imagination. Plus, taking the few minutes to find a filthy story that works for me is a good way to get into a sexy headspace. If I want a long, luxurious session, taking my time to immerse myself in an erotic book is glorious. If I’m more looking for a hot quickie with myself, then a favourite story and my Doxy will get me done in ten minutes or less.

It’s great to share with a partner

As I already mentioned, sharing the erotica you enjoy can be a great way to share what turns you on with your partner. Perhaps you can’t say out loud “I want you to bend me over and spank me while you call me a dirty little slut“. But you can point them to a story with these themes that really did it for you.

Reading erotica together, or aloud to each other, is also a mega sexy thing to do. A really hot D/s scene we did a while ago involved Mr CK reading out some erotica that I’d chosen, and instructing me on when I was and wasn’t allowed to touch myself (and, of course, come).

And sometimes, it has damn good plots!

I don’t, primarily, read smut for the story. But just occasionally an erotic novel will have a plot so good that the sexy bits are almost just a very enjoyable bonus. Cooper S Beckett’s A Life Less Monogamous and Approaching the Swingularity (the latter reviewed here) are two great examples.

Is erotica for me?

Yes! Regardless of your gender, orientation or particular kinks, there’s bound to be something in the wide world of erotic fiction that appeals to you. And if no-one has written the story you want to read? Well… why not give it a go?

So where can I find good smut?

For some of my personal top picks, check out the books linked in this post.

You can also visit Literotica, an amazing free resource where thousands of amateur writers have uploaded their stories for your masturbatory pleasure. There’s a lot of crap, of course, but some real gems in there too. You can search by category, keyword or tag.

You can also find some great quick reads on Amazon Kindle. These typically cost $1 to $5 each – and you can read loads of stuff for free with a subscription to Kindle Unlimited.

Finally, of course, read your favourite sex bloggers! My “erotica” and “Masturbation Monday” tags contain all my freely available work, and you can get a new story every single Tuesday by signing up as a Patron at any level. My friend Kayla runs Masturbation Monday, which is a treasure trove of filthy delights every week. Check out Exhibit A, The Other Livvy, Tits & Test Tubes, Hannah Lockhardt and Confess Hannah for great filth from my smutty friends.

Basically: smut is great. Go read some smut.

Heads up: there are a few affiliate links in this post! All opinions are, as ever, entirely my own. Image sourced via Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Dining Alone”

Today’s Masturbation Monday comes from a prompt by Mr CK – “write about going to a restaurant and getting it on with the hot waitress.” Well okay then!

A woman sitting alone reading at a restaurant table. For a Masturbation Monday piece called "Dining Alone". I noticed her the moment I walked in. Long waves of red hair, barely contained by the sensible ponytail, curves filling the modest-yet-sexy knee length black dress, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun across the bridge of her nose, grey-green eyes. So my type it hurts.

So straight it hurts, I tell myself as she asks me where I’d like to sit and shows me to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. The girls you like always are. I’ve been on this business trip ten days and I’m sick of everything this boring little town has to offer – which isn’t much. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I stepped off the plane.

I order my glass of wine, my starter, my main course, and each time she comes to take an order or bring me something I try not to stare. The shape of her breasts in that dress – not to mention the fact that I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in weeks – has my cunt dripping into my knickers. I reach into my bag for my book, the book I’ve been secretly reading at night in my hotel room. Do I actually dare read it here, in public?

Fuck it, I think. No-one here is paying attention, and even if they do, they don’t know me.

Of course, the filth on the page just has me even wetter, reading about women doing filthy things to each other and imagining the beautiful waitress in those scenarios with me.

“What are you reading?” she asks, coming over to clear my starter plate away. I jump and look up guiltily, slamming the book shut and shoving it onto my lap under the table. To my disbelief, she reaches down and grabs it to take a look.

Best Lesbian Erotica,” she reads out loud, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze moves from the book cover to my now scarlet face. “Really now?”

“Research…” I stammer.

“Sure, babe.” She hands the book back to me. “More wine?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes. Please.”

She takes my glass and saunters away without another word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was swinging her hips and ass deliberately to taunt me. Not knowing what else to do, I return to my book. When she brings my wine and, a few minutes later, my main course, I dare to flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile at her.

Judge me for reading porn in public, I dare you!

“Is everything okay?” she asks, appearing by my table again as I’m half way through my spaghetti alla carbonara. I nod, my mouth full. She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, grabs the spare napkin from the unused place setting opposite me, scrawls a quick note and shoves it towards me. This all seems to happen in a single fluid movement, and she’s walking away again.

Shift finishes in twenty. When you see me go through the door in the far left corner, follow me – code is 1013. Don’t let my colleague see you. We won’t be disturbed. 

I nearly choke on my mouthful of spaghetti. Even as I’m telling myself that this is insane, I know that I will go. After all, when a beautiful woman summons you with such calm authority, what else can you do?

I keep my eyes on my food and occasionally glance at my watch as the ten minutes ticks down. At precisely one minute past ten, I watch out of the corner of my eye as she waves goodnight to her colleague and saunters to the back of the restaurant and out of sight.

Am I really going to do this? Do I dare? In a second, I decide. I throw down enough cash to cover my meal and a generous tip – a very generous tip – and head in the same direction, one eye on the other waitress, now the only person working. As she’s ringing up another customer, I seize my moment, punch in the code, and shut the “staff only” door behind me. I just have time to take note of that fact that we’re in a large and deserted commercial kitchen, all silver and chrome, when…

“I knew you’d come.”

She’s sitting on one of the shiny counter-tops, stockinged feet now free of her high-heeled shoes, sipping from a glass of what looks like whisky on the rocks.

“I don’t really know…”

I was going to say I don’t really know why I did, but she cuts me off. “Shush. You’ve been eye-fucking me since the moment you walked in. Lucky for you, I think you’re kinda cute too.” She hops down and comes towards me. She’s shorter than me without her tall shoes, but the confidence and power she exudes leaves me in no doubt who’s in charge.

My mind starts to race. Is she toying with me? Is this some kind of joke? What if someone walks in at any second? Then she presses her perfect, red, whisky-flavoured lips to mine, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

She pushes me back against the closed door, fingers twisting their way into my hair as we kiss. I think I moan, but the sound is swallowed by the kiss. I cannot remember the last time my cunt was so wet from nothing more than kissing and feeling someone’s body pressed up against mine.

She nudges my legs apart with her hand, then brings her leg between mine, thigh pressing against my cunt. Even through my tights and knickers, I’m sure she can feel the heat and wetness. Shameless, now, I grind against her, desperate for more stimulation. God, how long has it been? Can a few short weeks of no sex really make me into such a wanton slut?

I gasp when the leg is moved and replaced by her hand, the ends of long, elegant fingers dancing ever-so-softly against my cunt through the two thin layers of clothing. She’s teasing me, because she can see how much I want it.

“Please…” I whimper against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, slipping her hand under the waistband of my tights and into my knickers, making contact with my desperate cunt at last. My gasp of pleasure is the answer she needs. When her fingers make contact with my clit and begin to circle it, I cannot help my moaning.

“You have to be quiet,” she says. “Can’t have you getting me caught and in trouble. If you make too much noise I’ll have to stop.” Her calm dominance and her talented fingers have me weak at the knees, gladly wanting to do anything she says, anything to please her. Another rush of wetness coats my already soaked panties.

I’ve always been loud in bed. It’s just the way I am. Back in my university days, my housemates hated it when I brought this girl or that boy home for a night of passion (which was often) because it meant none of them were getting any rest that night. But I believe this beautiful woman when she tells me that she will stop fingering me if I make too much noise, and all I want in the world right now is for her fingers to keep going, keep pushing me towards bliss.

Her rubbing has changed. Faster now, and harder, my own juices providing all the lubrication we need. I bury my face in her shoulder, in her hair, to hold back my sounds. My clit feels harder than I can ever remember it being, and I’m thrusting my hips, humping her hand with my cunt. I’m so close! For some reason it comes to me to ask her permission.

“Please can I come?” I whisper frantically.

“Just from this little bit of attention? God, you really were gagging for it, weren’t you?”

The flush of embarrassment nearly pushes me over the edge. “Oh, god, please…”

“You can come if you can do it quietly.”

My mouth opens into a scream but no sound comes out. Somehow, holding the sound in makes my orgasm even more intense and I come, harder than I have ever come before, in this stranger’s hand.

As I grab at the wall to steady myself, she places a small kiss upon my lips and then withdraws her hand from my knickers and shoves her sticky fingers into my mouth.

“Clean your mess up,” she orders. I suck the fingers clean, the musky smell and taste of my own cunt making me realise how much I want to taste hers.

“Can I…?” I ask, already crouching before her and starting to push her dress up.

“No. My colleague will be in here any minute and you need to be gone by then.” I swallow my disappointment as my hopes of getting to bury my face between her perfect legs are dashed. Then, perhaps inspired by her, I have a flash of daring.

“Quick. Give me your phone.” She does. I punch in the name of my hotel and my room number. “I’m here two more nights. Come and find me and I’ll return the favour.”

It’s not until she’s kissed me once more and then shoved me out of the back door and into the night that I realise I never caught her name.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday, every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.