A Guide to Writing Bad Erotic Fiction

I’ve always had a love of words and genre-based fiction. One genre I haven’t delved into is erotica. In the spirit of experimentation, I’m trying my sticky, cramped-up hand at it. But I don’t want to write just any erotica. Certainly not the pablum peddled in best-sellers and most appreciated when read aloud by the late, great Gilbert Gottfried. Nope. I want to write bad erotic fiction. There’s no sex like bad sex!

I mean, shit, if writers like Anne Rice, Henry Miller, and Roald Dahl (Yes. The Charlie and the Chocolate Factory guy.) could churn out some literary smut, who the hell am I to turn my nose up and swipe it like a credit card?

The Innocence of Bad Erotic Fiction

There’s something almost wholesome about terrible erotica. Okay, maybe not when it involves dumping your husband for someone you meet in a Harry Potter erotic fan-fiction forum (as was the unfortunate case with a friend of a friend). Rather, there’s a certain desperate innocence to it, smacking of having no game — like when you were a sexually inept teenager. Or adult.

And, beyond the omnipresent infusion of sex into nearly every aspect of our culture, isn’t that the point of erotica? To take us back to those feelings of wanton discovery without consequence or disrupting the sanctified fabric of our routine lives?

They don’t call it “getting some strange” for nothing.

Erotica allows people to indulge in flights of fap and fantasy at their own convenience. It affords them the option to try something new without running the risk of a visit to the free clinic or coming home to find most of their belongings scattered on the front lawn.

3 Tips for Creating Bad Sex Fiction

I don’t want to half-ass this new venture. So, I’ve been doing some research and applying a beginner’s mindset to learn as much as I can.

So far, I’ve come away with three tips for writing bad erotic fiction that I want to share with you, dear reader. To illustrate these points, I’m including some samples of my work, brought forth from the wells of my deepest desires. I hope you find these tips (and just the tip) to be as inspiring and titillating as I do.

Heh. “Tit”illating.

Tip 1: The Art of Unveiling

Some erotica takes the slow burn approach. A verbal striptease, if you will. You lure the reader in by slowly taking them through the entire experience, moment by excruciating moment. The anticipation of the ultimate outcome builds, making you wait for the payoff.

For instance:

I pressed myself against him, flicking my tongue delicately down the length of his neck. My lips met the sharp prickle of five-day stubble mingled with the salty tang of beer sweat.

I inhaled deeply and was struck by the aroma of Mango Nectar Juul wafting from his threadbare grey tank top. It was intoxicating to the point that I found myself breathlessly craving a drag off his below-the-belt vape pen.

Running my hands down his torso, I admired his farmer’s tan and milky white flesh offset by sunburned forearms.

He was going to need some aloe for that later.

I slid to my knees, making my way down to the denim pup tent that had been politely poking at my navel during my exploration of his upper half.

He whimpered softly as my hands reached his belt buckle.

It was shaped like a bejeweled skull backed by a marijuana leaf.

I bet he got it off Temu.

A ripple of delight shuddered through my ham wallet. I sat back on my heels and admired both his thriftiness and how his electric orange briefs provided the perfect frame for his buoyant bulge.

“Not yet,” he moaned.

I peered up at him seductively.

I, too, wanted this moment of standing on the precipice of consummating our passion to last forever.

“I have to pee,” he whispered.

If that doesn’t get a fondue going in your panties, nothing will!

Tip 2: Appeal to the Senses

Sometimes, you want to cut that slow burn crap and jump right to the nitty-gritty perv shit. In those instances, where you’re eager to head to the spank bank and make a withdrawal right quick, you want to drop the reader in the middle of the action. A fancy name for this literary technique is called “in medias res.”

Helpful hint: To rev your readers up right out of the starting gate, use sensory language. Tap into aspects of sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. Stumped for ideas? Look to your favorite fast food franchise for inspiration, calling to mind the artfully primped food shown in commercials: glistening cheese, pert and perky lettuce leaves adorning a thick, juicy slab of meat slapped between two buns, emanating sizzling heat through your screen.

Observe the technique in action:

He buried his nose between my gluten-free flaps, softly murmuring, “We have the meats,” deep into my roast beef cavern. I shivered and felt a bead of moisture trickle down my love handles like a Jamocha shake left on the counter for too long.

And it had been too long.

I wound my fingers through his frosted tips, urging him to continue bathing my potato cake with his tongue, eagerly awaiting the moment when I’d be drenched in his hot, creamy Horsey Sauce.

BOING! That’s the money shot, right there! No dicking around with flowery prose or a lengthy lead-up. It just gets down-and-dirty, post haste.

Tip 3: Blend Fantasy with Reality

They say the biggest erogenous zone is the mind. So when you’re writing bad erotic fiction, you want some level of plausibility. Think about mundane details that you can seamlessly slip into your smut, allowing the reader to see themselves in your work. One of the most relatable ways to appeal to the reader is to tap into the humbling experience of bad sex.

We’ve all been there: A honey pot gone dry. A ramen noodle unwilling to rise to the occasion. Going for the gooch only to be met with horrified pearl-clutching. Finding yourself on the receiving end of an unwelcome Kennebunkport Surprise.

When penning bad erotic fiction, offer your readers the same amount of disappointment they might experience with a real-life encounter. Doing so can truly bring the fantasy to life, as such:

With each thrust, he wheezed — his nose hairs curling and uncurling like twin party favors from his flared nostrils.

I could tell by the quickening of his breath — coming in shorter, more ragged gasps — he was close.

“You like that, huh?” His face contorted into a grimace that looked like a shrunken pea, turning “huh” into a noise that had several syllables.

He grunted and snorted, tossing his head back and forth like a past-his-prime Pinto on the way to the glue factory.

“I’m gonna….” Heave! Grunt! “I’m gonna….” Wheeze! Growl! Huff!

He threw his head back and…

“AAAAAAAAAACCHOOOOOO!”

The violent force of his sneeze shook loose a bloody snot rocket, horked directly onto my tit.

It was smaller than a Kennedy silver dollar but markedly bigger and redder than my areola.

He rapturously continued to pump away, oblivious to the fact that I’d reached over to snag a Kleenex from the nightstand. With one, swift movement, I deftly wiped the reddish-brown goo from the sideways pancake of my boob, tossing the tissue off the edge of the bed.

“You like that, huuuh-UUUUUUNN-uuunnnnnnh?”

And with that, he brought his sexual symphony to a crescendo before face-planting onto the pillow.

Sad trombone.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a cold shower after that. Whew!

So, dear reader, if you, too, aspire to write bad erotic fiction, I hope these tips help. I wish you luck on your journey. If  you’ll excuse me, now that Mickey Mouse is in the public domain, I’ve got some rodent ribaldry to crank out right now. Happy writing, folks!


Photo by Ivan Babydov

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