Erotice Stories

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Erotice Stories


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Nimja

Erotic Short Stories Short erotic stories, both real and fictitious.

Copyright © 2001 - Nimja.com
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These are short erotic stories that are written for various reasons. Some of them are real, some of them obvious fantasy, but the others... who knows...

Content is explicitly sexual, therefore not suitable for your office, I hope...


Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
Early Prime Day deals & all the facts
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When I first started writing erotica in 1999, I would often get the question, “What, exactly, is erotica?” Nowadays, in our post- Fifty Shades of Grey world, I rarely get that kind of confusion. Instead, there remains a bit of a misconception that all of modern erotica is somehow similar to Fifty Shades , with female submissives being the name of the game.
The truth: There’s a lot to discover about the genre beyond E.L. James’ massive bestseller. I should know; I’ve edited more than 60 erotica anthologies and have read hundreds of stories for the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series I curate. Writing erotica has irrevocably changed my life , and has given me new perspectives on my own sexuality as well as those of my fellow human beings.
The past decade has seen a boom in women turning to the page to detail sexy stories that would very likely make even Christian Grey blush. And for anyone who knocks erotica as anything less than an art form, it’s interesting to note that of the 130 erotic authors recently surveyed by writer Emmanuelle de Maupassant, roughly 30% of respondents said they have formally studied literature.
Women writers come to the world of erotica for different reasons: some as a business opportunity, some to safely explore sexual fantasies they can’t share in their real lives, and some simply to create hot stories that will arouse readers. While I’m firmly of the mindset that fiction is just that, fiction, and can’t be used to divine real-life trends in sexuality, I do think it’s a positive for women that erotic fiction has become more mainstream. Not having erotica tucked away into some dark corner sends the message that it’s okay to think about sex, to think about what turns you on. Erotica gives us permission, in case we didn’t have it already, to acknowledge ourselves as sexual, and sexy, beings, whose desires may be far more complicated than we’re often led to believe.
The fact that erotica, along with erotic romance — from blockbuster print bestsellers to upstart indie ebook publishers to websites and magazines like Congress — is now so widely available means that we are becoming more comfortable talking about sex, including some deeply kinky sex. Take a stroll through any given bookstore romance section and you’re just as likely to see handcuffs as you are Fabio-esque images. Female authors are writing about straight women, lesbian women, bisexual women, male-male erotica, and beyond, and in the process, giving their fellow readers access to all sorts of models of sexual fulfillment that don’t fit any kind of mold.
When Refinery29 asked me to curate a selection of what’s hot in erotica written by women, I wanted to bring you a sampling of that kind of variety. Ahead, you’ll find excerpts from some of today’s top erotic writers, with stories ranging from sweet to filthy, with just about everything in between. These authors have brought forth the heart of what makes sex such a delight by capturing the lusty, down-and- dirty moments right alongside the emotional nuances that make these stories worth reading — and re-reading. Prepare to be delighted, and surprised, because these writers don’t shy away from BDSM, erotic risk-taking, sex with strangers, male/male lust, historical erotic scenes, or anything else.
This time, we’re starting with a handful of steamy stories, but we’ll be featuring a new story every month. Even if you think erotica is not your cup of tea, I hope you’ll check the excerpts out in case something strikes your fancy. And if you have suggestions for authors our readers should know about, please leave a comment sharing your favorites!
“Would you like more wine?” Gareth’s velvety burr ended the silence between them. He had addressed her directly, and she could no longer protect herself by pretending he wasn’t there.
She turned to see him holding a flagon toward her cup solicitously, as if she hadn’t been carefully ignoring him for most of the evening. His gaze on her was a living thing, like the fire licking at the wood in the hearth.
“You are the visitor here, Your Lordship,” she said, trying to keep her voice even-keeled. The consummate hostess. “It is I who should be serving you.”
“Do you wish to serve me?” he asked in a low voice, leaning closer to her. “Because I do not require a wench to do my bidding. What I desire is that which would give you pleasure. If this wine gives you pleasure, I will pour it. If there is something else you would ask of me, it is yours.”
The hotel room door opened with a click. We walked inside, and Caleb shut it behind us. Then he leaned on the door and sighed. “How lucky are we?”
“So lucky that it cannot be measured,” I said, looking around the tidy room. I kicked off my shoes, and then thought better of it. “Should we go eat something? Are you hungry?”
Caleb gave me a wolfish grin. “Not for food.”
Oh . A dangerous tingle settled into my groin, just from the look on his face. I looked away. I took off my jacket, and stripped off my sweater. I was tired of wearing the same less-than-clean clothes. “Tomorrow we can do laundry, maybe,” I said. It wasn’t that I wanted to discuss laundry. But I was feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, now that I was alone in a bedroom with Caleb.
If Caleb had an opinion about laundry, I didn’t hear it. He walked over to one of the beds, yanking down the covers, exposing the sheets. Then he began to methodically remove all his clothes. He didn’t stop at the sweater, like I had. His shirt, T-shirt, jeans and socks all hit the deck.
“Talia.” His voice was sharp. “Give me your hands.”
I did. He held my wrists in the stretch of one big hand, lifting them over my head, laying me down again. I watched the pulse hammer in his throat as he leaned down to tie me to his headboard. The knots weren’t tight, but I had no interest in trying to get away. I lay stretched out on his bed, and he finally — finally — unzipped my skirt and slid it down my legs.
To be honest, I hadn’t expected to be naked in front of Sean Poole when I got dressed that evening. I’d indulged in some wishful thinking (as I did basically all the time), but I didn’t really own any sexy underwear. Tonight’s panties had a green heart-shaped argyle pattern. They cut a little high up on my cheeks. Nothing special.
But he murmured, “Jesus, look at you.”
I blushed and looked away. His hands slid up my thighs and his fingers curled around the waistband of my panties and pulled them down.
Oh, come on. The lights were on, and he was going to look , like he’d fucking looked at everything else, like he could memorize it.
“Hush,” he said again, and looked up at me. “Are you going to make me gag you?”
His hand came down on her ass, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to warm. She gave a yelp that was abruptly cut off when his hand lingered, stroking the red mark he had left behind. “You like that?”
She wanted to smile but controlled it, fearful he would see it and think she was laughing at him. There was a hint of pleading in his question. He was hoping beyond hope that she liked his palm smacking her, because he clearly liked it very much.
She stretched her hands down over his back and scraped her fingernails over his ass, which clenched in reaction. “I adore it,” she purred.
The room spun around her as he tossed her on the bed, and then he was there, a couple hundred pounds of aroused male bending over her, bracketing her smaller body. “Really?”
“Really.” She drew her leg up, sliding it over his muscular thigh. “Would you like to do it again?” Small white lines formed around his mouth. “Yes.”
She craned up, touching her nose to his. “How many times have you jerked off, thinking of spanking my ass?”
A shudder ran through him. “Too many.”
“Was I a bad little slut in these fantasies?”
He closed his eyes and inhaled, deep and slow. “I don’t like that word.” “What word?”
He licked his lips, his shoulders tensing. “Slut.”
Was it her imagination, or was her new scissors tattoo actually burning on her arm? The longer Letty spent pretending to be the person Toni apparently wanted her to be, the more she enjoyed it. Wasn’t this what anonymous encounters were all about? Discovery? If things went badly, Letty never had to see Toni again. She didn’t even care if things became so awkward she had to leave the concert early. Before meeting Toni, she’d been feeling old and out of place anyway.
The door to a stall swung open. Letty still hadn’t answered Toni’s question. Brazen Toni had things covered, though. She raised one elegant eyebrow and headed for it, glancing back at Letty to see if she was following.
“Jesus Christ,” Letty muttered under her breath. She wasn’t a lesbian. She’d never wanted a woman before.
But she knew she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what would happen locked in a small space with Toni. Touching the scissors tattoo for luck, she reminded herself of all the years she’d spent feeling that something more had to be out there somewhere. This was something more.
Letty took a deep breath and slipped in after her, locking the door behind them.
“So let’s talk about your aversion to casual sex,” I began.
“Ohh-kay,” he stammered. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters, how strict is this rule?”
“I mean, what is your definition of sex? Is it the Bill Clinton definition or the Mormon definition?”
“Well, first off, it’s not a rule. It’s just what I think is best for me right now. And as far as strictness goes…no intercourse.”
“Damn,” I cursed under my breath. “I really wanted to fuck you tonight.”
He laughed. “Was that your mission?”
“Yes. And I fear I’ve failed miserably before I even left the base. But…can I
“Ask me anything,” he said invitingly.
Every candle in Carson’s room was lit, over two dozen pillars similar to the ones he’d used in a demonstration he’d given at Club Accendos months ago. The young girls giggled and screamed as their partners dripped hot wax on their bellies and breasts. No one got burned or hurt. The sensation play simply brought out their innate melodrama. He’d been bored to tears. Right now, nothing interested him more.
After laying London down on the table, he took a moment to admire the wisps of caramel and chocolate strands by her cheeks, her ponytail dripping over the edge of the table.
“No.” She shifted and the plastic crinkled underneath the sheet. “I’m fine.”
Carson freed his belt from her waist. A loud clank when it hit the floor made her startle.
He picked up a bottle of oil and snapped open the top. After filling his palm with the lubricant, he spread it over London’s stomach. He moved to her breasts, kneading and then pinching her raspberry nipples. Her back arched into his hands, and her hands grew white from fisting the sheets by her side.
When I walked in, you were still in your work suit. I think that’s how you wanted it — you’d be the manager, the ringmaster, and we’d be the ponies, turning your tricks.
That’s why you had us kiss one another, yes?
I was shy at first, having never kissed a woman, but Jeanne was ravenous, her mouth ardent, as if she’d been waiting years for me, and she stained my mouth with her cherry-dark lipstick, with kisses like crushed velvet — selfless, selfish, all and nothing. As our mouths sank together, our breasts touched, mine adorned only with the finest satin, hers covered with gauzy material studded with teardrops of finery. Held by her so we breathed as one, I felt her hardened nipples. I swept my hand against her thigh and the curve of her buttock, feeling her body so warm, so smooth inside her dress.
Beneath my skin, my blood was beating, making every little part of me flush and gasp. I was alive, so alive, especially when I felt your arms encircling me from behind, and your sex — hard and insistent — pressing at my back. I threw back my head then, making ardent sounds, as Jeanne lay soft-damp kisses down my throat, and you explored my body through the thin satin, your hands caressing me with slippery smoothness, as if I were already bare. I felt you touch my hips, my sides, your lips insistent against my nape. I felt you gather me tighter than Jeanne, grinding against me.
She wasn’t a virgin. That much was true. But this was hardly in the same category as anything she’d experienced after the prom or a set-striking party. Impulsive, wild, frantic groping under the shelter of exotic trees and hanging vines. Seducing a man over 10 years older than her. Whispering “I love you” and meaning it. Taj made the impossible seem possible. He turned the unthinkable into the spoken and the done.
Rocky straddled his lap, her skirt hiked above her knees and the sun-warmed wooden bench marking patterns into her skin. Taj shucked his shirt and tossed it aside with defiance, as if even now he was daring her to cringe, to pull away, to run. Not a chance. She kissed the jagged scars down the side of his throat and every pale burn that ran down his chest. It was just like his face…the combination of pain and perfection. As if the hand of fate had chosen to strike only one side, leaving the other as a reminder of what he used to be. And it didn’t matter. Because she cherished both equally, touched both equally.
“You can’t scare me, Taj. Don’t even try.”
He rubbed his jaw against her cheek and then turned to catch her earlobe between his teeth and tug. “How can I, sweet Rakhee, when you are scaring me?”
He was shivering under her hands. But not from fear.
“We should not,” he said, even as his body told her differently.
From “Tell Me a Secret” from A Bloom in Cursive by Leandra Vane
Jake kissed like he sang. Easing slowly into hard, guttural desire, and once he got started he didn’t stop. His touch was like melted sugar, his taste was smoky and bitter, like I had always imagined a good punk rocker would. His body was soft, poetic, and I scratched lines down his back, challenging him to give up all his secrets.
When we finally broke apart, we were both heaving. He pulled the CD player remote from his pocket, silenced the music, and tossed the remote aside. He frowned.
“I did this to make you happy. Not get into your pants.”
Jake picked me up and slammed my ass on the table. He had hid his muscle from me like I had hid my longing, but neither of us held back as we crashed into each other.
I pulled his sweater up his back and over his shoulder blades. The material was tight and clung to his smooth skin, tangling up in his arms. By the time he wrestled free of the pesky layer I had tossed my sweatshirt across the room and popped the button on my jeans open.
I felt so rock and roll there on the table in my yellow polka dot bra, drinking in the contours of his long, smooth frame.
He snaked his fingers down my back, sending a shiver up my spine. With a flick my bra sprang away from my body and a cool sweep of air tantalized my tits.
Jake gripped the metal of my left nipple ring between his teeth and gave a little pull. The shot of pain was soothed by a swish of his tongue and I began shaking. I reached down and fumbled for his fly, but it was out of my reach.
Jake reared back and hooked his thumbs in the back belt loops of my jeans and tugged. My bare ass slapped against the fake wood panel and I let out a shriek. The denim became bunched at my knees and I cursed myself for wearing laced up combat boots. I scrambled for my shoe laces but he pushed me back on the table.
"Soothsaying Practices of the Western World" left Kyle dizzy and wondering how he could even hope to grasp all the practices they'd covered. Tea leaves, coffee grounds, molten lead hardened in water, crystal balls, runes, Tarot, flame scrying, palmistry, psychometry, weathercasting ― and to think they hadn't even gone into astrology because that was a whole separate class!
The magically-raised students seemed to have grown up taking these things for granted. Kyle wondered how many omens he was missing every single day. He'd known that if you found a penny it was good luck, but he'd thought it was only the ones that were heads-up. Apparently, it was all pennies, though? The bit about black cats and walking under ladders: False. But there were other ones his classmates insisted were true, and Kyle was finding it harder and harder to keep track of them.
He opened his textbook on omens and tried to read, but was too distracted by worrying to actually absorb what he was looking at.
Thankfully, Jess came in not long after that. "Hello, sweetness," she said, planting a kiss on his lips. "What are you doing hanging around?"
"Oh, I thought maybe I'd catch Alex to help me with some studying, but apparently he's at the library."
Jess pursed her lips. "I've never seen him actually study this hard before. He's been there a lot lately. Maybe his project is behind schedule. "
Jess slipped onto the couch next to him. "Want me to help you with your studying instead?"
He put his arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. "I can think of something I'd rather do. Your roommate said she'll be at the lab all night."
"Oh? On a Thursday? How funny." Jess's smile turned sly. "But convenient. Maybe you're leading a charmed life, Kyle Wadsworth?"
"I have to write five pages tonight, but come on." She took him by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom. "Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone."
She closed the door behind him. "Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed."
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening, after six years. After I had given up hope of ever having a sexual experience as satisfying as my night with Leif. Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My breath caught in my chest as my fingers ventured down, under the black lace of my panties. I thought back to my white cotton underpants that night at the Crowne Plaza, and I giggled to myself. If anyone had told me back then that I’d be sex-ambushing the man six years later, I wouldn’t have believed I would have the nerve.
I closed my eyes and stroked two fingers down my slit. My hips lifted. I’d been so eager for this moment, now it seemed like my skin was too sensitive to touch. I thought of what Neil would see when he walked in, and remembered the undisguised appreciation in his eyes while he’d watched our hands on my body.
My stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. What if he was expecting the girl from six years ago, who’d only had sex with fumbling teenage boys? What if he got here and was turned off by my initiative? After all, he’d found my naiveté so endearing the last time we were together.
Oh shut up , I scolded myself. Would you really want to fuck a guy who only wanted you for your sexual inexperience? No, because that would be weird.
I’d made a salient point, I had to concede. My fingertips circled my clit, and a shaky breath stuttered across my lips. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand, and I cupped myself, letting my fingers slip between the folds of my sex.
The door clicked open, and the weight of my desire became like an electric current. My lungs seized, my limbs quivered. I opened my eyes, a soft groan escaping me when I saw Neil there. He close
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