Samara’s Bad-Girl Guide to Writing Erotica

March 12, 2015 — 239 Comments

woman-writing-erotica 2


Ever since the appearance of Fifty Shades of Grey, the worst book to have ever sold 100 million copies worldwide, everyone is writing erotica.

I don’t want to discuss this Idiot Book, the fact that Anastasia is a virgin who can orgasm 20 times an hour, never worries about getting a urinary tract infection or somehow made it through college without a working laptop.

Bad erotica is sprouting up everywhere. All of it hackneyed and formulaic.

The characters are always flawless. Or if they have flaws, they are so endearing they make the character even more adorable.

For women,”clumsy” is the most popular endearing flaw. For the record, I am clumsy. There’s nothing sexy about. I fall down, smack my head on things, injure myself frequently and am generally shocked to still be alive.

Last week, in a meeting with a group of men, I dropped my pen under the conference table. I reached down to get it, hit my head on the edge of the table, and sustained a near-concussion. No dicks got hard.

I would like to read about a female character with some really detracting flaws.

“Monique had a grotesque mutant butthole growing out of her face. Her ass stunk like Exit 13 on the New Jersey Turnpike and she cleared a room whenever she broke wind.”


And of course. every male character has a frighteningly enormous cock. Let’s go for some diversity:

“Her eyes widened as he slipped his sweatpants down his short stubby legs. His peeny seemed erect but it was so small, there was no way to tell. She gave it a swift headbutt, because men loved that.”


Another thing that really gets my hackles up is how all these beautiful women smell. They always smell like fresh-baked bread, or lemons.

Can’t we try something a little different?

“She jerked open her vest, radiating the scent of stale cigarettes and 3-day old crab legs.”

“Her pussy smelled like an elderly man he once knew who moved to Florida and did something with pit bulls.”


There are only so many ways to write a traditional sex scene, and they can become repetitive and boring. It’s important to be innovative and unique in your erotica. Here are a few little snippets I’d like to share with you.

You’re welcome.

 Blake and Thalia

Blake unzipped his pants quicker than a hooker running from cops. His tube sausage flopped out. She began jerking off his pork sword roughly, like it owed her money.

Thalia released her breasts like one would release the Kraken. They were long and heavy, as if she had loaded a shitload of change into a pair of old tube socks and taped them to her chest. Blake wandered around them like a hobo at a hydroelectric plant.

He crammed his meat flute into her greasy rat’s mouth. He moved as awkwardly as a 6’2″ guy trying to get a laid in a Honda Civic. Thalia breathed heavily, making sounds like a child caught in a dry cleaning bag.

“Your bajina feels like I’m jerking off into wet balloons,” Blake said, struggling to breathe, like a fat man digging into nachos. Thalia thrashed around like a Jawa getting gummed by a toothless Sarlaac.

Blake moved over Thalia’s body stiffly, like a disabled person trying to have intercourse with a mailbox. Thalia’s pubes were thick enough to star in their own episode of Duck Dynasty. Her hairy ham wallet was trembling as he bit into it, and then peed on her bed, marking his territory like an irate Doberman.

Blake’s eight inches of throbbing pink Jesus rammed into her vintage golf bag. He dove into her nappy lunch meat like Scrooge McDuck into a room full of gold. As his all-beef thermometer slammed into Thalia’s hot pocket she orgasmed so hard, she sweated like a gerbil in a gay bar.

They fell asleep entwined together in the afterglow.

Thalia woke up the next morning with a meat pie in her hand and her mouth tasting like an ashtray.


 Garth and Savannah

Garth gazed at Savannah like a gluttonous person would gaze at a cheap, all you can eat buffet. All the calories rushed to his penis.

The cameltoes created by her pudgy baby-fat labias made him want to plunge into them like a sex-crazed Mario the plumber. He longed to take a bite of her wobbly jello salad. Savannah’s bald, fat-lipped special place was so enticing, he longed to hump her like a blind baby kangaroo trying to body box.

Savannah breathed raggedly, like an asthma patient at indoor casino that allowed smoking.

“Garth, I’m gonna touch your weiner all over that yucky looking part at the top, the entire peeny.”

She ran her wet toilet-plunger tongue over her thick lips. Moans like belches escaped her lips.

Savannah reached down, sliding her hand under Garth’s clammy beer-gut. She let out a small choke of lust as her acrylic nails scraped the bald, encrusted dent of his urethral opening. He roared mightily as he shoved her off the bed, causing her to lustily smash her head on the nightstand.

Garth did a jiggling frantic nut-swing. He plowed his pink tractor beam inside her field of dreams. Savannah’s velvet clown hole was as tight as Uncle Fred’s hat band.

Her rosy walls of lust shrink-wrapped around his beef jerky with a grape-squashing force. They squeezed his shaft harshly, as one would squeeze  out the last morsel of toothpaste from the tube. Garth felt like mini feminist ninjas were attacking his nut sack.

He cupped Savannah’s buttocks like a couple of freshly baked loaves of gluten free bread and gave them a quality-approving squeeze.

Slowly, he tamed Savannah’s skittish sphincter like it was a nervous filly. Soon it was as relaxed as a psychiatric patient on Seroquel. He took turns violating Savanna’s brown balloon knot with matching Pilgrim Thanksgiving salt and pepper shakers his Aunt Tillie had given him for a housewarming present.

“I’m gonna tongue punch you in the fart box!” he bleated at her.


So, release your inner perv and give it a try!


Did you read 50 Shades of Grey? Do you have any interest in writing erotica?’
How did I do?
Talk to me. I’m listening. 

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239 responses to Samara’s Bad-Girl Guide to Writing Erotica


    I admit. I read it. But only because it was on sale at the checkout and it was a total impuls purchase and it is the worst book in the history of bad books!!! I actually never finished it, because it wasn’t just bad. It was… It was.. I don’t think we have a word to describe it yet.
    I am always going around telling people it’s porn. I don’t care that it is. Porn has a place in society and everyone who wants to watch/read/enact, should. But let’s not call a penis a vagina. It’s not literature. It’s a linguistical nightmare. It should be in the adult section of the dark and gloomy book store.
    Having said that, I am happy there is finally someone out there addressing the lonely, sex deprived housewifes of the world who finally after twenty years of marriage and three kids get to have an orgasm.


      Whoa, no one is faulting you for reading some juicy smut! Even badly written smut is a turn on. I’m down with that.

      Finally get to have an orgasm ?After 20 years? Oh Lordy, say it isn’t so! The only good thing ABOUT marriage was that the Ex knew how to push all the right buttons. If it weren’t for that, we’d have divorced a whole lot sooner!

      By the way, I love porn. You have found your peeps.


    I fucking love you and can’t wait to get shmammered with you in New York this summer. That is all. Sort of.


    OMG! I laughed so hard I thought the camel toes might need another hump. 😉


    The love fest going on in the comments is giving me a raging boner.
    And I’m a chick…


      My FAVORITE thing about blogging is a party in the comment section! This is a good one, too!

      I’m totally down with the lady boner thing. You’re in the right place! xo


    So, here it is 8:00 and I’m reading your romantic passages out loud to the husby. I thought he was going to hyperventilate…the last straw was the fart box 😉


    His muscles clenched and unclenched, weaving like Volkswagen limousines beneath his glistening, taut skin. She gazed at him, his scarred Adonis visage enrapturing her.

    Closer he came. She couldn’t tell if the buzzing was from the outside world, or from deep inside her, rumbling and oscillating with the force of an oncoming train.
    His long limber fingers reached out like the glistening growth of new limbs on a thick, hard, sturdy oak.

    She turned to keep him in her view. The rubbing of the fabric of her robe against her sent small jolts of electricity coursing through her body, as if her home were a city, and she was the wiring of the powerplant.

    He spoke in his soft, gravelly voice – commanding, demanding. “Lift your legs” he said, with that undertone that wouldn’t, couldn’t be denied.

    Then he spoke the words that drove her over the brink, sent her off the edge in an explosion that she couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to – that sent tingles coursing – no, raging, burning, devouring – through her deep, wet nether regions and sensitive buds of her thighs, her breasts, her ealobes – and every inch of her entire being…. “I need to vaccuum under your feet.”

    She collapsed in a longer shudder of pleasure.

    (If you’ve enjoyed this, I also do Bar Mitzvahs!)


      I’m so dang happy to see you!

      There is nothing as sexy as a man cleaning the house. You nailed it.
      And I happen to be planning my kid’s Bar Mitzvah so I’ll keep you in mind!

      What’s new in your world? Seen any good bands lately?


        Going to see The Cat Empire in the near future – great band out of Australia. And I have Carol Burnett tickets! Not a band, but she’s gonna be dead soon, so…


        I’m not familiar with them. I’ll YouTube them (can I use “YouTube” as a verb?)

        And are you seriously going to see Carol Burnett? Do what?


    I never do this, but I reread this shit again. Not only do I wish I would’ve wrote this, but I wish that we were best friends so that we could get drunk, bitch about suburbia in general, and write a book together! Your style and unapologetic writing ease is admirable. I don’t want or make friends easily, but consider this my plea to collaborate. Footnote: You don’t need me.


      So are you a “lone wolf in the suburbs” kind of gal? I am, but not by choice. People don’t get me.

      Gee, I wonder why…

      What would you like to collaborate on?


        Not sure, but reading this post made me seriously think that our “go fuck yourselves” style would complement each other quite well. Suburbia, yes…fucking minivan and everything.

        I’m not on the PTO. For obvious reasons.


    This is the most hilarious thing I have read in a long time. Thank you for making me laugh.

    I won’t read Fifty Shades, and won’t see the movie because I think it’s ridiculous to watch something that is R-Rated when you can watch wayyy crazier X-rated stuff at home for free. And if it’s for the story, well, there are better stories, aren’t there?

    This is a review from a Chinese massage place in my city, which no one can figure out whether it’s “legitimate”or legit, but which sums up my opinion of Fifty Shades perfectly:

    “She gave me a half-assed massage for a half hour, which I had actually come there for, and then started giving me a half-assed handjob, which I stopped. I won’t be going back. If I want a massage, I will pay more for quality, and if I want a hand job, I will pay less and get more.”


      First, welcome to my blog! Thank you so much for reading, and commenting!

      That’s a fantastic quote. A half-assed hand job sounds really, really sad.

      I guess we share an affinity for online porn. If only it didn’t hork up my computer…


    That was so funny you made me cry! I’m not sure if it was because of it was funny or perhaps a little too realistic! 🙂 Great post!


    I have tears in my eyes, Samara. Seriously! And not because it saddens me that someone else has total recall of their past sexual experienes in order to write this. You had me at “3-day-old crab legs” and it just kept getting better — like really bad sex when you’re drunk, when you can’t remember the details and make them up so you feel better about yourself.

    This was absolutely the funniest thing I’ve read in quite a while. Although, to be fair, I haven’t read “50 Shades of Lay.”

    *Wipes tears from eye*
    *Reads again*


    Loved this, and so true! I’m like, hey, I’m clumsy as hell. Where’s my gorgeous billionaire? F this shit, man. ; )


    This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read. I’m wiping tears as I type. Hilarious. I’d bet the farm that you could get it all published.


      Seriously? The whole farm??

      Who on earth would publish this?

      Thank you so much for reading, and for so generously sharing it on Facebook and twitter.


    I was in such a shit mood and then I read this. Genus! You fucking genius! I haven’t read 50 shades, I did read The Story of O a long time ago. I like erotica, though I don’t read much of it. I’m sure I could give it a pretty good whirl if I tried.


      I’ll bet you could!
      It’s even more fun when you write it my way. Bizarre. Just think of the most unlikely metaphors, and stick them in.
      (she said “stick them in” hehehe)


    Okay, I’ll admit it, this is the first time I’ve visited your blog. Yeah, I’m such a shit. Still, I gotta say it was what I expected. No, I’m not talking the subject matter, but the writing is exceptionally well done. You communicate with the reader and hold their attention from beginning to end. I’m impressed, and I don’t say that often. Well, done!


      I’m so happy you’re here, you don’t need to apologize! I’m just grateful that people take the time to read, and comment.

      And thank you for the praise! I hope you stick around and read some other stuff. (I don’t always write like this. Well, maybe sometimes.) 🙂


    Some of your phrases will become famous. I already intend to send detachments of mini feminist ninjas out into the internet.


    Samara, you kill me every single time. I am laughing and throwing up in my mouth at the same time.

    I did read the first book for 50 Shades. It was our neighborhood Book Club selection. It made me grind my teeth, in a bad way. I wanted to slap whatshername and beat him in a non-sexy way. So much, from the writing to the story line in general annoyed the shit out of me. I mean, there were some parts that were kinda hot that had me waking my husband up in the middle of the night, but over all it was laughable. But, some of the women in my Book Club said it made them have the best sex in years with their husbands. So that’s something. But damn, if you aren’t having great sex with your spouse, that’s something you need to address STAT.


    God I just love you thing 2


    OMG! Laughing and crying. Never happens. Congratulations!


    I have never read erotica, but I am pretty sure that the female character’s clumsiness ends just as sex begins – because getting accidentally smacked by her heel into his ear kind of ruins the romantic moment.
    Also, the perfect woman smell descriptions as freshly baked bread or lemon is clearly written for a female audience: if erotica was written for men, perfect women would smell like bacon.


      I actually wear bacon scented perfume.

      And let’s not forget that some men actually WANT to get kicked in the ear. But that’s a whole other blog post…


        Oh, but when the guy wants to get kicked in the ear, the clumsy girl will miss the ear and accidentally drop a 700 inch TV on the male’s similarity sized peeny.


    I have no words – other than to say I was laughing like a lunatic who just realized there is an unlocked door and a chainsaw behind the padded walls of his cell.


    Ha ha! Love it, reminds me of my own writing! Though. ..I still have not read 50 shades.


    Oh my god. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to read this in a cafe, but I am literally crying in the corner. That was excruciatingly good. Love your work. Would buy the trilogy.


    Hahaha, this had too much for me to even be able to focus long enough to write a semi intelligent comment. I was erect the second you dropped your pen and bent over. The head bang was just icing on the cake. Also, most hookers don’t even bother to run from the police. They just act all twitchy and either claim to be pregnant or have some sort of disgusting disease that they think will keep us from touching them with a ten foot pole. It almost always works on me, btw. Lol.


    I know I’m late for this EROTICA release session but OMG, Samara. My 21 year old son is sitting next to me wondering what the hell is so funny! I am dying over here and I can’t exactly share it with him!!! This is seriously one of the funniest things I have ever read. You so nailed it! Can’t wait ’till Mr. B gets home so I can share it with him. *still cracking up over here*


      When I was writing this, I laughed so much my kid (who’s only 11) kept bugging me! “What’s so funny, Mama??” How could I tell him? He ended up getting so angry with me…

      So good to hear from you Maria. Sorry it took a WEEK to reply!

      xoxo ,


    OMG this was completely hilarious! You know it is going to be good smut when the word “encrusted” appears and it has nothing to do with diamonds hahaha.
    Meanwhile, “nappy lunch meat” is a phrase I have never heard before and I am pretty sure I am okay with never hearing it again LOL. HILARIOUS!
    All the different names for bits and actions reminded me of my post about lady parts:



      Did I write Nappy Lunch Meat? I don’t even remember that, but you’re right. It’s pretty damn disgusting.
      Thanks for reading!


    Yeah, so…I gotta go change my pants…laughed a little too hard. I stumbled across your blog coming from another; it’s a happy accident.
    I just wrote a (more serious) reaction post to 50 Shades…I won’t post the link here, but it’s on my blog if you’re interested. If, like me, you discover two weeks from now that you have a comment, it’s “50 Shades of Disney Lies.” I have a pretty robust search function, so you should be able to find it easily (okay, it’s just the standard WordPress search field). Oh, and in your writing technique, don’t forget the most charming literary device of all, your inner goddess. (Every time she said that, I thought of Lizzie McGuire’s little cartoon self…)


    Oh, man. This. All of this. It is brilliantly hilarious.


    I never thought of this because for once I thought 50 shades of grey is boring and just too porn-like with too much scenery of fetishness. Hehe, maybe I am just exaggerating but upon reading this tells me of an erotica matter I never pondered or tried to focus about. 😀


    This was great !! I would totally buy your book cuz that 50 shades of grey crap is so not on my level !!!


    “Another thing that really gets my hackles up is how all these beautiful women smell. They always smell like fresh-baked bread, or lemons” A bunch of us took Henry to the worst strip bar–twenty years ago, it may or may not have been two nights before my wedding, but I’ll admit it was my last visit to that kind of place–all the strippers smelled the same: lilac talcum powder. It was Henry’s first time–we coached him to put a rolled dollar bill between his lips and one of the girls, um, retrieved it with some surprisingly dextrous, uh, maneuvering. Or would have if Henry hadn’t run out to the parking lot to retch in the gravel. I’ve never read any erotica remotely like that–but if I did, I might read more erotica. I still giggle just thinking about it.


    You owe me a new best friend!! She choked on her beer when I made her read it out loud 🙂


    There must be something wrong with me. This made me want to touch myself with kitchen utensils and shit gourmet meals from my fart box. Gotta run …


    Now this is pure awesomeness! Funny as hell.


    Yes, I had to see what all the fuss was about, so I read the first book and laughed my way through most of it–especially her saying the same shit over and over again. It’s sad that so many women were enamored of what read to me like an abusive relationship as opposed to actual BDSM.

    I just nearly peed myself reading your version of erotica though. Much better than that 50 Shades drivel!!

    My best friend and I used to sit around and drink wine over 20 years ago, and write stories about having male love slaves in our basement. It was a good time!


    “She ran her wet toilet-plunger tongue over … ”
    I couldn’t finish reading the sentence before moaning over that— the gagging kind of moan. lol Oh, seriously funny… You really could do a spoof book, I would imagine… full of gags. lol


    I refused to read Fifty Shades of Grey. My wife read all 3 books and I read one chapter over her shoulder, which was more than enough for me. She writes way better smut than EL James.
    Yes, I write erotica because that’s what my brain wants to write and sometimes I post some of it on my blog. ^_^

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