Sexy Snippets for March

by | March 19, 2014 | Sexy Snippets | 17 comments

February was a short month! Here we are on the 19th of March, and once again we’re encouraging you to post your Sexy Snippets!

The ERWA blog is not primarily intended for author promotion.
However, we’ve decided we should give our author/members an occasional
opportunity to expose themselves (so to speak) to the reading public.
Hence, we have declared the 19th of every month at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association blog Sexy Snippet Day.

On Sexy Snippet day, any author can post a tiny excerpt (200 words or less) in a comment
on the day’s post. Include the title from with the snippet was
extracted, your name or pseudonym, and one buy link, if you’d like.

follow the rules. If you post more than 200 words or more than one
link, I’ll remove your comment and ban you from participating in further
Sexy Snippet days. So play nice!

you’ve posted your snippet, feel free to share the post as a whole to
Facebook, Twitter, or wherever else you think your readers hang out.

Have fun!

~ Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai

Sex and writing. I think I've always been fascinated by both. Freud was right. I definitely remember feelings that I now recognize as sexual, long before I reached puberty. I was horny before I knew what that meant. My teens and twenties I spent in a hormone-induced haze, perpetually "in love" with someone (sometimes more than one someone). I still recall the moment of enlightenment, in high school, when I realized that I could say "yes" to sexual exploration, even though society told me to say no. Despite being a shy egghead with world-class myopia who thought she was fat, I had managed to accumulate a pretty wide range of sexual experience by the time I got married. And I'm happy to report that, thanks to my husband's open mind and naughty imagination, my sexual adventures didn't end at that point! Meanwhile, I was born writing. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, though according to family apocrypha, I was talking at six months. Certainly, I started writing as soon as I learned how to form the letters. I penned my first poem when I was seven. While I was in elementary school I wrote more poetry, stories, at least two plays (one about the Beatles and one about the Goldwater-Johnson presidential contest, believe it or not), and a survival manual for Martians (really). I continued to write my way through high school, college, and grad school, mostly angst-ridden poems about love and desire, although I also remember working on a ghost story/romance novel (wish I could find that now). I've written song lyrics, meeting minutes, marketing copy, software manuals, research reports, a cookbook, a self-help book, and a five hundred page dissertation. For years, I wrote erotic stories and kinky fantasies for myself and for lovers' entertainment. I never considered trying to publish my work until I picked up a copy of Portia da Costa's Black Lace classic Gemini Heat while sojourning in Istanbul. My first reaction was "Wow!". It was possibly the most arousing thing I'd ever read, intelligent, articulate, diverse and wonderfully transgressive. My second reaction was, "I'll bet I could write a book like that." I wrote the first three chapters of Raw Silk and submitted a proposal to Black Lace, almost on a lark. I was astonished when they accepted it. The book was published in April 1999, and all at once, I was an official erotic author. A lot has changed since my Black Lace days. But I still get a thrill from writing erotica. It's a never-ending challenge, trying to capture the emotional complexities of a sexual encounter. I'm far less interested in what happens to my characters' bodies than in what goes on in their heads.


  1. Ashe Barker

    Here are exactly 200 words from Carrot and Coriander, my novella on general release from this Friday.

    Seemingly giving up on the notion of finding a spare seat Callum returned his attention to her new lingerie. He swung the strips of lace in front of Rachel. “Came across these. Downstairs. Yours?”
    “Of course mine. Who else?”
    He glanced up sharply at her slightly waspish tone, and for reasons she did not entirely understand Rachel shifted uneasily in her seat. She was tempted to apologise. Callum gave her ample time, then tilted his head briefly. She’d had her chance.
    “Indeed. They’re lovely. I think the pink today, don’t you?” His tone was distinctly firmer now.
    As she continued to stare at him, he handed her the lingerie in question. “I’ll be in your bedroom in ten minutes. I expect to find you there, wearing these. And nothing else. Except maybe a smile. Any questions so far?”
    “But—I’m busy…” She gestured around her, at the piles of unfinished accounts and tax returns yet to be filed.
    His eyes never wavered from hers. “You will be. Ten minutes, Rachel—don’t waste it.” And with a flick of his chin towards the door he indicated she should go, now, and do as he’d told her.
    Amazed at herself, she did.

    Carrot and Coriander is on Amazon at the weekend, but you can get it now from

    • Leya Wolfgang

      Oh my, Ashe! Is Rachel in trouble? Here's hoping. wink, wink

  2. Amanda Earl

    200 words from "Seeing Red," an unpublished story:

    Garrett's cock was rock hard and rubbing against the zipper of his uniform. He needed to stroke it. He knelt down and unzipped his pants. Garrett jerked off, sliding his along his shaft, slipping a finger over his slit, feeling the first drops of precum.
    Mark stared at him with his tongue hanging out. He leaned up and slipped Garrett's hard cock in his mouth. His body bobbing up and down in the pool, sending puddles of water over the edge. Garrett didn't care if his pants got wet, he just wanted to fuck, to feel Mark's lips tightening over his cock, to feel his tongue licking the slit of Garrett's cockhead while Mark grabbed the ledge of the pool to hold himself steady.
    Garrett let Mark work his magic on his cock, the smell of chlorine mingling with the heady scent of precum, musk and sweat in the air. The sun's rays grew hotter against Garrett's back. He removed his shirt and pulled at his nipples until they were erect. Mark gazed up at him with his big baby blues, the pool light reflected in them. Garrett came down Mark's throat, the leftover jizz spilling into the pool.

    • Amanda Earl

      missing word. fuck. i'll leave it this way. sorry about that.

    • Leya Wolfgang

      Thanks! I do love a man in uniform, Amanda. Policeman? Marine? Barista? Do tell.

    • Amanda Earl

      thanks, Leya…security guard 😉

  3. Elizabeth Black

    Novel: Don't Call Me Baby
    Author: Elizabeth Black
    Buy Link:

    [Catherine] leaned against the passenger
    door, turning her face up to catch the few scattered
    raindrops. Any second now and the sky would
    open with a deluge. Ryan stood a few feet away
    from her, giving her a quizzical look she couldn't
    quite read. Was he deciding what to do with her,
    since she was such a tempting tease who made it
    clear she wanted him? She closed her eyes and
    enjoyed the feel of the cool rain and the electric
    smell of a growing storm.

    “I love the feel of rain on my face…” She did not
    get to finish her thought because Ryan took her
    up in his arms, kissing her so hard he bruised
    her lips. She felt a week's worth of pent-up passion
    in his embrace, and she wrapped her arms around
    his broad back, enjoying a kiss so intense it left
    her breathless. His tongue slid into her mouth,
    seeking every inch of her. She melted into his
    embrace, kissing him hungrily as she massaged
    the tense muscles in his shoulders. His erection
    poked at her leg as he pressed his groin into her.
    He wants me so much he can barely contain himself!

    • Leya Wolfgang

      Thanks for sharing Elizabeth. Mmm, wet from the rain, and other causes. No wonder Catherine melted.

  4. Leya Wolfgang

    199 words from Velvet Purrs In Paradise, by Leya Wolfgang. Available on Amazon at

    His energy bumped up against me before he even moved an inch. I pegged him at about 35 or 36, and sensed a maturity that had nothing to do with his age. When the man moved closer, he put one foot between mine. The space between us was paper-thin, but he didn’t touch me. Sparks of electricity arced across that sliver of space, and a thousand needles pricked my skin. How any woman would ever resist him was beyond my comprehension. He is elemental sexuality. I almost did an old-fashioned swoon when his hot and damp breath blew across my ear as he whispered to me.
    “You are a tempting little treat, aren’t you, pet? Creamy white skin that looks so soft and tasty. Pretty, pink nipples blossoming like fragrant rosebuds. Dark, curly snatch, like a woman instead of bare like a child. Strong, shapely thighs to squeeze a man tight. Hmm, I wonder what else squeezes tight … I do hope I get a chance for a lick and a nibble of you.” The low rumble deep in his throat reverberated in my sopping pussy. It was a primal sound, the kind capable of giving birth to universes.

  5. Elizabeth Schechter

    177 words from Tales from the Arena: Opening Gambit, by Elizabeth Schechter.
    Available from Amazon:

    Iras arched an eyebrow, feeling a surge of indignant anger. "Really? And what do I need, Kian-ti-os?"

    He didn't rise. He just smiled, gesturing to one of the gray-clad novices who acted as servitors in the Lounge. He didn't say anything until a pair of drinks had been delivered to the table. Then he leaned forward, and his voice was a low growl when he answered, "You need to be bound. Bound to my whim and paraded on a lead throughout the Arena so that everyone knows you are mine. You need to be beaten, often and thoroughly, so that you never forget just how much regard I have for you and how dear to me you truly are. And you need to be taken, bent over a table and savaged until your screams of pleasure and your cries for mercy ring from the very rafters. That, my dear Iras, is what you need." He sat back, raised his drink, and smiled. "Unfortunately, it's not what I can give you. Not tonight. Would you settle for dinner?"

  6. oliviasummersweet

    200 words from "My Regression Into Babyhood," in Barbara Cardy's "The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions," out in June. Pre-order link is here:

    At night before tucking me in, if I’m lucky, Daddy fucks me in the ass and then inserts my butt plug to make sure his cum doesn’t drip out.

    Sometimes, he handcuffs my wrists and ankles with leather restraints to the bars of my crib for the night, which makes me feel all nice and secure.

    Sometimes he lets me suck his cock instead of the pacifier or the baby bottle, and he makes me swallow every drop of his cum.

    If I wet my diaper instead of peeing into my potty trainer, he spanks me long and hard as punishment.

    He makes me poop in front of him, and if I can’t poop on command, he puts dirty, nasty things inside my ass to make sure I do. I have grown to love the feel of those nasty things.

    I know now that this is where I was meant to be.

    I know now that Daddy was right that I wanted the thing I dreaded the most.

    And I know now that this is what I saw in him that first night in the bar: that he, and only he, could make me into the baby I really am

  7. xanwest

    188 words from “Facing the Dark”, which was printed in Backdraft: Firemen Erotica, edited by Shane Allison

    I drew out my knife, playing the edge along the very skin I had just marked. He went very still. Good. Now I had his attention. I slid the knife along his scar tissue, letting him feel the sharpness of the blade, and rested the edge just by his carotid. I pressed down, slowly increasing pressure as I felt him inhale. The sweetness was overpowered by the scent of metal from his skin, and I glanced up and grabbed his eyes with mine. There it was; the dilated pupils, the widened gaze.

    “You need to be completely still for me now. Here is not where I want to bleed you.”

    His gaze got even wider. The pulse in his throat sped up. I pressed down even harder, waiting for his gasp, and then lifted the knife to bring it to his cheek.

    Knives are a beautiful path to fear. They cut the space between you, slide deep inside without even breaking skin. Nothing invokes helplessness faster than being trapped between a wall and a knife. Fear and helplessness writhe on the floor together like cats in heat, yowling.

    • xanwest

      Thank you. I've been falling for this story all over again lately.

  8. Ginger Jones Simpson

    This 'snippet' is from Beaches – a soon-to-be-released Erotica from BWL. Sorry, but this is from an unedited version, but I think you'll get the drift.

    Joey slanted away from her. “Here? Is it safe?” His brow creased.
    Did she even care? “Yes, my husband won’t be home for hours.” She ran a lazy tongue over her bottom lip, though quivering with the fear of rejection. “Don’t you want me?”

    His eyes told her he did. With nimble fingers, he unzipped her dress and allowed it to drop to the floor. Clad only in panties and bra, she stepped from the delicate heap and led him to the bedroom. As he stood before her, she began unbuttoning his shirt—running her hands across his erect nipples and splaying her fingers in the mat of black hair on his muscular chest. Following the curly trail downward, she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his Levis and dipped her hand into his underwear. Freed from the confines of his boxers, his erection blossomed before her eyes. She cupped her hand around its girth. “Is all this this for me?” Her brazenness surprised even her.

    He chuckled. “Every bit of it.”

  9. vampwriterblog

    G.D. Ogan, "Immortal Relations" pp 65-66. "I was flat on my back with Magdalena on top, she was having fun bringing me close and then backing down showing Evy how to drive me out of my mind. Maggie finally looked down on my quivering body stepping over and off, slapping Evy's hand like a wrestling tag team match. Evy flew up on the table straddling me as Maggie had. Without any foreplay she took awhile to be able to take me in. If anything, it heightened my level of punishment not wanting to hurt her and thus not being able to find completion. But she started to warm up and allow a little penetration, then greater still, as she got more into the process. In a few more minutes, she was in full passion, and I was feeling my passion peaking as well. She controlled the joining like she had more experience than she had, perhaps because of the observations and training she had gained watching Maggie and me. Finally feeling waves of her internal contractions I met her coming with my own release; then she slowed and gently lowered herself to lie on me."

  10. The Moose

    Love the way you run things. Nothing left to the imagination as in reading good erotica.

Hot Chilli Erotica

Hot Chilli Erotica


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