21 Steamy Erotic Stories Written By Women

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!

 

From Scarlet by Emmanuelle de Maupassant.

I twist up the color. It’s the sort of red that leads you into trouble: the red of vamps and femme fatales. I can’t help but smile at that. It may take more than a slash of scarlet to lead me astray!

I move the red to my lips and it goes on beautifully, thick and creamy. Darker than I thought it would be, yet suiting my complexion. I give myself a wink.

You’re not looking too bad. Bloody good lipstick, I think. Why not undo a button? So I do. Then I fluff my hair.

It takes only those few seconds for the color to cast its spell. A strange confidence suffuses me, running through the lattice of my veins, pulsing to my groin. My breasts swell under the constriction of my bra, nipples stiffening. A she-wolf, long sleeping in her winter cave, has woken, bringing with her a hunger for flesh.

I’d been feeling tired, wanting nothing more than hot water on my body and the solace of alcohol, but I want something else now.

I want a man.

I return to the party, where the lights have dimmed. Any man will do.

 

The following has been excerpted as part of an ongoing Refinery29 series of erotic stories for women, by women.

I twist up the color. It’s the sort of red that leads you into trouble: the red of vamps and femme fatales. I can’t help but smile at that. It may take more than a slash of scarlet to lead me astray!

I move the red to my lips and it goes on beautifully, thick and creamy. Darker than I thought it would be, yet suiting my complexion. I give myself a wink.

 

You’re not looking too bad. Bloody good lipstick, I think. Why not undo a button? So I do. Then I fluff my hair.

 

It takes only those few seconds for the color to cast its spell. A strange confidence suffuses me, running through the lattice of my veins, pulsing to my groin. My breasts swell under the constriction of my bra, nipples stiffening. A she-wolf, long sleeping in her winter cave, has woken, bringing with her a hunger for flesh.

 

I’d been feeling tired, wanting nothing more than hot water on my body and the solace of alcohol, but I want something else now.

I want a man.

I return to the party, where the lights have dimmed. Any man will do. I don’t feel the need to be choosy. As luck would have it, the groom’s father is leaning against the wall, just inside the doorway, a glass of brandy in his hand, which I take from him and swig down. Before he can speak, I’ve turned my body and moved close, my fingers against his crotch. I don’t say anything. I just cup my hand against his balls, and squeeze, until the handful grows.

 

"Where?" he asks.

I don’t answer. I lead him out and down the corridor, back into the bathroom, into a cubicle, locking the door.

He goes to kiss me, his tongue intrusive, breath thick with booze and the garlic of Chicken Kiev. I let him, while my hands are on his belt, opening his fly, eager to grasp him.

His buttocks are surprisingly hard for a man of his age. His cock is hard too, hard in my hand: hard and warm and smooth.

 

I rub and twist, rougher than is polite, but he doesn’t ask me to stop. He’s pushed the skirt of my dress up and is reaching inside my underwear, dipping in an experimental finger.

I’m ready for a good fucking.

 

Back against the wall, I hold the fabric of my knickers aside and rest my foot on the toilet seat. He’s nudging in, and there’s nothing more to do but push myself forward, to take that eager cock where it wants to go, and where I want it.

 

We aren’t quiet, and I don’t give a damn. The cubicle shakes with each stab. I thrust to meet him, one hand clutching his arse cheek, holding him firm, urging him on.

"Harder," I hiss, my fingers pushing into his skin.

 

He obliges, but only manages three more lunges before the inevitable: a juddering final stroke. I feel his knees go and that sudden, familiar shrinking.

He pulls out, leaving his cream to drip down my inner thigh. He starts to zip up but I’m far from finished. I need more.

 

"Get on your knees," I say.

"Piss off. I’m not kneeling on a toilet floor with some scrubber I’ve just met. If you want yourself licked out you’d best look elsewhere."

He spits the words, and then he’s gone.

Bastard!

 

My clit is thumping with its own heartbeat, demanding more. I wriggle out of my underwear and stuff it in my bag.

Strangely, my mascara has smudged under one eye, but the lipstick is as vivid as ever. My lips are pulsing too, in synchronization with my sex. They don’t need it, but I take out the lipstick, just for good luck, and apply another coat.