Non Shit Erotic Literature For When You’ve Exhausted All 50 Shades Of Grey

Fact: there’s more to sex books than 50 Shades Of Grey. In fact, erotic novels are long established, and the main source of evidence that we don’t need technology to enjoy sex (i.e. you can have a wank without PornHub).

And past E. L. James’s famous trilogy, there’s a whole world of books out there that don’t require you to check in with your inner goddess every other page.

Most erotic literature doesn’t get the same level of attention as 50 Shades, and whether that’s due to its lack of similarities to Twilight, or just because not everyone fancies telling you what they got up to in bed late last night is up for question.

So if you’re looking for something not shit to read, with less millionaires and more detail (although who doesn’t get turned on at the thought of a rich guy throwing money at you?) check out our top recommendations below - need we say, enjoy?

1. Lady Chatterley's Lover

'He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came into her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her. Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite and melting her all molten inside.'

*2. *Night After Night

'He drove his tongue inside her, setting off another shattering moan that was music to his ears. She was quite an instrument to play, so finely tuned, and if he touched her right, she made the most glorious sounds — raw, intense, absolutely delicious noises of pleasure as he plundered her with his tongue.'

3. Story of the Eye

'But as of then, no doubt existed for me: I did not care for what is known as "pleasures of the flesh" because they really are insipid; I cared only for what is classified as "dirty." On the other hand, I was not even satisfied with the usual debauchery, because the only thing it dirties is debauchery itself, while, in some way or other, anything sublime and perfectly pure is left intact by it. My kind of debauchery soils not only my body and my thoughts, but also anything I may conceive in its course, that is to say, the vast starry universe, which merely serves as a backdrop.'

4. Delta of Venus

“When she saw that he was dissolved with pleasure, she stopped, divining that perhaps if she deprived him now he might make a gesture towards fulfillment. At first he made no motion. His sex was quivering, and he was tormented with desire… Marianne grew desperate. She pushed his hand away, took his sex into her mouth again, and with her two hands she encircled his sexual parts, caressed him and absorbed him until he came.”

― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

5. Fear of flying

“The gold cross begins to bump, pause, bump between the widow’s moist breasts, the fingers begin to curl under the widow’s thighs, the widow continues to stare at the olive trees. Then the fingers are sliding between her thighs and they are parting her thighs, and they are moving upward into the fleshy gap between her heavy black stockings and her garters, and they are sliding up under her garters into the damp unpantied place between her legs.”

6. Vox

'I run my fingers just down the long place where the insides of your thighs touch, all the way to your knees, and then I’d let go of your legs, and they’d fall slightly apart, and as my hands started to move up inside them, with my fingers splayed wide, they’d move farther and farther apart, and then I’d lift your knees and hook them over the arms of the armchair, so that you were wide open for me, and in the darkness your bush would still be indistinct, and I’d look up at you, and I’d move on my knees so I’m closer, so I could slide my cock in you if I wanted, and I touch your shoulders with my hands, and pass my fingertips all the way down over your breasts.'

7. Fanta C

'His parted lips followed the curve of her breast. Then he lifted his head and visually devoured her nakedness. He cupped one breast in his hand and played with the dusky crest until it became stiff. Growling with gratification, he ducked his head and whisked it with his tongue, again and again, until Elizabeth clung to him for support. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, then carried it down to his sex. He acquainted her with the dimension, the power and strength, of his desire for her.'

8. The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories

'His touch both consoles and devastates me; I feel my heart pulse, then wither, naked as a stone on the roaring mattress while the lovely, moony night slides through the window to dapple the flanks of this innocent who makes cages to keep the sweet birds in. Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden, I go back and back to him to have his fingers strip the tattered skin away and clothe me in his dress of water, this garment that drenches me, its slithering odour, its capacity for drowning.'

9. The Gentlemen’s Club

'He stabbed into her, driving deeply, repeatedly, iron-hard and demanding. She welcomed the piercing pleasure of his urgency, opening her legs wider, pushing her skirts away and wrapping her legs about him. His thrusts pushed her roughly against the table, but she rose to meet each one, clinging to him at the hip, grinding her own need to match his. Her fingers clawed at his buttocks, gripping him to her, pushing herself against him, devouring him.'

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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.