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Erotic Story Writing Competition Finalists - VOTING HAS NOW CLOSED

04-10-2018   Competitions

Six stories have made the final of our competition. Read on and vote for your favourite story below!

Please vote for your favourite by clicking on the letter at the end of the all the stories.  

The closing date for voting is Thursday 18th October 2018 and the winner will be announced on our website and our Sent To Thrill social media pages. Simply, the story with the most votes will win the competition.

Winner announcement on Sunday 21st October 2018.

Enjoy reading and good luck to our finalists.

*The stories are works of fiction.   Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Please note explicit language is used in some of the stories.

All entries were read by the members of the Sent To Thrill team and our some of our panel members. 

The winner will receive a £75 Amazon voucher and the kudos that her/his story will be enjoyed by many.



Story A

Call Me… Lotharia

Written by Félice Le Poer

“I guess this isn’t quite what you expected…” trailed Aelia. This was the first time she had taken someone back to her apartment and she had planned meticulously. The lights were already dimmed; sumptuous jazz with soulful, female singers was playing quietly from the bedroom; two wine glasses were waiting on the coffee table. She was determined to bring someone back tonight: she was going to have her melting as soon as she entered the front door.

The plan was to draw her in, holding hands, offer her wine and gravitate towards the bedroom. She was home, but she found herself in unfamiliar territory. Her heart was pounding — with fear and excitement — and now everything was running through her mind. Am I walking seductively? Does she still want this? Will this music put her off? What if she doesn’t like Cabernet?

There was so much she wanted to say to Ruby, but everything sounded cliché or patronising. She had barely noticed that she had let go of Ruby’s hand, and Ruby was looking round her apartment taking everything in: her artwork, her furnishings, her hair. Ruby was smiling and her eyes were glistening.

Aelia took in a deep breath and slid into Ruby’s path. She had attracted Ruby with her bravada, and so she must continue. They stood nose-to-nose — eye-to-eye. Ruby was waiting for a kiss, or for Aelia’s hands to explore her tingling body. But Aelia waited. And for Ruby, it was agonising.

The plan was working, and Aelia was feeling dominant once again. She started to breathe deeply, knowing that Ruby would feel the warmth of her breath on her chest. Ruby moved closer and began to raise her hand to run through Aelia’s hair, but Aelia quietly — sultrily — whispered, “Ruby.”

Ruby froze on the outside, but a well burst aflame deep within her. Though she was already intent on spending the night here, Ruby felt all of her inhibitions glide off her goosebump-laden skin. Her muscles tensed and her breathing sharpened. She lost all desire for wine.

Gazing at each other, face-to-face, with their breathing ascending into panting, they gradually moved synchronously towards the bed, led by Aelia. Still, they had not touched since Aelia had let go of Ruby’s hand. Like dancers, their bodies connected only by invisible wires, flowing with electricity. Aelia steadily lead the pair, backwards. Ruby was transfixed on Aelia’s face, trying to read her mischievous eyes and decoding the ebbs and flows of her dewed lips.

Aelia stopped at the edge of her bed. As she furtively leaned back onto the mattress, she held her hand up for Ruby to do the same. Their fingers interlocked and Aelia pulled Ruby in closer. Aelia reached round to hold Ruby’s back and draw her into an irresistible hold: their lips were touching but, again, Aelia waited.

Ruby felt completely within Aelia’s hold, albeit able to hold herself up with one arm. She desperately wanted Aelia’s lips to part. She ached for Aelia to roll on top of her. She needed Aelia to lead.

“Maybe…” Aelia teased. She placed her index figure on Ruby’s knee and slowly raised it up her leg, over her dress and up her thigh. “Maybe…” Aelia repeated, though in a tone to suggest she decided what she was going to do. Ruby wanted to know what was on Aelia’s mind, but her concentration was soon consumed by Aelia’s finger. Much to Ruby’s surprise, Aelia’s finger continued upwards, past her waist, and her chest, and her neck. It came to rest on her lower lip, before teasing it down.

“I’m not ready for bed.”

Ruby was surprised and disappointed. “Wha…?” Aelia was already leaving the bedroom, so she followed. “Did you want some wine?”

“Erm, sure, thank you,” replied Ruby, struggling to hide both her frustration and her quivering legs. Aelia poured her some wine and put it down on the coffee table. Ruby accepted this as a cue to sit down on the corner sofa.

Now that she was seated, Aelia noticed that Ruby was wearing purple silk briefs that shimmered in the dim glow of the fairy lights. Although they were comparatively modest against the shortness of Ruby’s dress, Aelia was enveloped by the thought of the texture — the feel — of that underwear rubbing against her legs. She wanted skin — to see, to touch, to smell, to enjoy. She wanted to see how far Ruby would go to please her. But first, she thought, she needed a way to remove Ruby’s dress.

She stepped onto the coffee table, strutted towards Ruby and posed in front of her. She lowered herself from the table and mounted the sofa, straddling Ruby’s thighs.

“Now,” said Aelia. “You don’t want to get wine on that dress…”



Story B

Beauty and the Babe

Written by Floss Liddell

Summer is nearing to a close. I’m going to miss the warm rays of sun on my skin and the lapping of the sea at my feet. I don’t want to spend the winter regretting I didn’t make the most of living by the seaside though, so I’m packing my bags and heading to the beach.

It’s busier than I’d imagined, given how early I’ve arrived, I scan the throngs of people and try to find a suitable place to settle myself. There’s really only one spot that appeals and it does pose a problem, it is situated beside a living, breathing vision of perfection. On closer inspection I am both envious and aroused by how gorgeous she is. I feel a little bit frumpy in my all in one swimsuit, my sensible sandals and my factor 50 tucked away in my bag. I take a deep breath though and remind myself that I’m sexy in my own way and after all I’m here to relax, not to seduce women, even one as enticing as her and oh my, she is enticing.

I settle my towel down, get myself comfortable and reach for my book, as I do so, I hear a voice beside me saying ‘snap’. I look up to see the golden skinned goddess holding up the same book as me. I stare at her, both flustered and amazed by the fact she has spoken to me. Not only has she spoken to me, but she is still speaking, as I just sit and gawp at her.

‘Sorry I tend to talk a lot. I’m Tess. I like books, cake and cats.’

I’m aware at this point that I should respond, tell her my name, perhaps offer her one of the cakes I’ve packed. Hell, based on her introduction I should probably just ask her to marry me. Instead I stutter and stumble, and give a totally nonsensical response.

‘Um … Cats are nice. Like Horace.’

She stares at me, clearly totally bemused. Then bursts into laughter, jumps up, pulls her towel closer to mine and asks, with a perfectly manicured hand on my knee ‘who’s Horace?’ Baffled by her friendliness, I explain that Horace is in fact my cat. She seems genuinely interested as I show her photos and regale her with tales of his feline antics.

We sit in silence for a moment and I am distracted by the growing moisture between my legs, and the hand still resting on the bare skin of my knee, then I remember the cake.

‘Would you like some cake? I made it myself.’ Her eyes light up, and she accepts gratefully. I watch as cake crumbs fall onto her pert breasts and my mind wanders to touching and tasting, and I don’t for one minute mean the cake.

‘They’re not real.’ she announces, ‘I had them done years ago. I was flat chested, had no confidence, so I got these. It seems silly to some people, but I did it for me and I’m glad I did.’

Her honesty floored me and I found myself opening up to her. I explained that I tried on 30 swimming costumes before I found one I was brave enough to wear in public and that I nearly went home instead of sitting beside her, because I felt so frumpy. She looked genuinely upset by that. Then she smiled at me with a smile so warm and inviting, that I forgot to think instead of speak and I simply said; ‘you’re super pretty Tess’.

‘And you are super sexy. Would you like to see my beach hut?’

We stroll casually to her beach hut, the why of this unclear to me but as we do so she takes my hand in hers, commenting on how pretty my nail polish is. I expect her to let go, but she doesn’t. We are walking hand in hand, my body alive with passion and I think I might burst if I don’t kiss her soon.

We reach her beach hut and when she opens the doors I am bombarded by cat pictures and ornaments, it is the quirkiest beach hut I have ever seen. It is my turn to burst out laughing. ‘You’re a crazy cat lady.’

She grins at me in delight. ‘Well Horace’s Mum, it takes one to know one. How about we talk about cats over dinner?’

I realize then that I never told her my name, which I find hilarious. Instead of sharing it I kiss her softly on the lips, and her hands land on my bottom. Curvy, sexy, wobbly bits embraced and when we part I realize I don’t feel in the least bit frumpy beside her anymore. I feel excited and most definitely eager to dine out on her.



Story C


Written by Natalie White

It was getting late and Felicity knew she should switch off and go to sleep, but as usual she was still scrolling through her phone waiting for something to spark her interest. This was the only time in the day when she had a bit of time to herself, the kids were in bed and her husband was already quietly snoring next to her. As she lay naked in bed flicking through Instagram an advert caught her eye. She browsed the products, items she didn’t even know existed, and clicked on a couple of brightly coloured toys. These were things she assumed other women must use, sexier, more adventurous women.

Why shouldn’t she buy something though, maybe this was what she needed to make herself feel sexier and more empowered. It might even put the spark back into her life, which at the moment seemed to revolve around prioritising the needs of other people before hers. She came across the Iris, a discrete looking set of love balls designed for strengthening the pelvic floor and leading to enhanced sexual stimulation. After two children and 10 years with the same man she would benefit from both of those things she thought to herself! She clicked order, switched off her phone and went to sleep, already feeling a twinge of anticipation and excitement.

When the parcel arrived Felicity couldn’t wait to open it and try out her new toy. The house was quiet so she went upstairs and took out the Iris from the luxurious packaging. She was initially apprehensive about trying something new, but she carefully inserted the smooth, bright pink love balls inside her and enjoyed feeling the weight and the sensation as she walked around. She loved the thrill of no one else knowing they were there.

She looked in the full-length mirror and for the first time in a while admired her womanly shape, the curve of her waist and breasts perfectly in proportion. She should be proud of what her body had achieved and not focus on trivial insecurities. How had it taken something so simple to make her feel so good about herself?

She had a smile on her face and a spring in her step while she tidied up the house with her attention regularly being drawn back to the balls inside her. Every time she squeezed her pelvic floor she felt a little shudder and a tingling sensation. Did other women really do this, what had she been missing out on?

The following week, she decided to use the balls while she did her Pilates class.  Surely the secret workout going on down there would only be intensified during the class. Each time the teacher instructed the class to draw up through their pelvic floor Felicity felt herself becoming more and more aroused.

By the end of the class when it was time to lie down for the relaxation all she could think about was her sex starting to pulsate. Blood rushed to her face and she hoped no one noticed her blushing. She rhythmically tensed her pelvic floor in time with her breathing and then started to build uncontrollably towards one of the most powerful orgasms she had ever had. Her breathing depended and her body tensed as waves rushed over her whole body.

She tried her hardest not to let out any sounds that would give away what was happening to the person on the mat next to her. The intensity of the sensation heightened even more due to having to hide it from the rest of the room.

The teacher’s voice said softly open your eyes, stretch out your arms and legs and slowly come up to standing. Felicity never wanted this feeling to end as she floated out of the room. Did that really happen or was it just a dream?



Story D

Layers of Lucy

Written by Posy Churchgate

Lucy kicked the front door shut and placed the parcel on the counter to tackle with scissors.  Nestled amongst paper and polystyrene chips was the camera for the photography class she’d enrolled in.  Lucy flicked the switch on the kettle, her kitchen clean, with everything put away.  As it boiled she thought fondly of the years her sons were home, leaving counters crummy, and plates scattered around.  The house was too quiet since they’d left for university, and Lucy’s free time dragged.

Lucy reviewed herself critically in the mirror, her jeans clung snugly, her stomach looked toned.  Smoothing her t-shirt down she shrugged on a hoodie. At the door she grabbed trainers, her new camera bag and keys.  The photography class was guy heavy, several seemingly electing it as a retirement hobby, but all eyes were on Lucy as she entered the room.  Even casually dressed, she had poise which drew attention, the swing of her curvy rear as she strode to a front seat had a couple of gents adjusting their slacks.

Lucy parked on the weed strewn concrete, reaching into the boot for her camera and tripod.  She surveyed the abandoned warehouse, its dark, paneless windows broken teeth in a desolate grin.  Great!  The more moody the better. She roamed the deserted lot assessing locations, gauging the lighting as the tutor had described.  Selecting a large, arched doorway she set up the tripod and took some shots.   Critiquing them she felt they lacked impact, the scale of the doors hadn’t translated to film.  In a flash of inspiration, she set the camera’s timer and raced to the arch.  Arranging herself casually, silky hair draped to hide her face, she leaned back against the door jamb, ankles crossed.

In the car Lucy reviewed the pictures.  The composition was pleasing; she looked good.  An attractive woman against the backdrop of a deserted commercial building struck a dramatic contrast.  It occurred to her less clothes would give more contrast, so she stripped down to her underwear (white, but pretty satin and lace) slipping her boots back on.  Bending over the tripod, the satin strained across her curves, breasts pressed forward invitingly, barely contained by lace cups.  With the camera focused and timer set Lucy returned to the doorway, hips swinging, thrilled at her audacity.

Her initial poses were coy, hiding her face, but they couldn’t suppress her sexual allure.  She  squeezed arms at her sides, plumping her tits to create a cavernous cleavage.  Next Lucy turned away from the camera giving a sexy arch to her back then, hands pressed to the wall, cast a smouldering look over her shoulder at the camera.

Lucy selected her first picture (clothes on)  to submit for her assignment which proved very popular among her class.  She chose the uber sexy one (over shoulder-pose) to post in an internet photo meme.  It got 100+ views that first weekend along with positive comments, really stroking her ego.

She began to take more care over what she wore, from lingerie out. She felt an attractive woman once again, her body broadcasted her confident attitude.  She experimented, taking candid photos in varying lights and locations, feeling delighted as she viewed her sexuality through the ‘eye’ of the camera.  More powerful still, was the positive affirmation her ‘online’ identity gained.  Lusty, appreciative remarks from both genders freed her inner-goddess.

At her fourth photography lesson, Lucy wore a figure hugging dress.  Arriving late, her tutor beckoned her in and the class devoured her catwalk to a seat at the front.  High heels firmed her bum and tilted her tits outward, when she crossed her legs, silky stockings chafed with a delicious whisper. 

Her confidence went through the roof! Taking sexy photos to post in the weekly meme continued to earn a barrage of appreciative feedback.  The self-assurance she’d had pre-children resurfaced, and confidence is sexy.  Her colleagues paid her attention in meetings and, walking the corridors, her allure wafted like incense from a thurible. 

Frank from Accounting, who Lucy had long admired, wasn’t immune to the thrall of her self-assurance.  Timing his lunch break to coincide with hers he asked if the seat opposite was free.  As they dined he forgot to eat, distracted by her full lips, playful gestures and delicious orbs behind her blouse.  Lucy felt flattered.  He enquired about her sons’ studies and extolled the joys of walking dogs and the theatre.  Lucy laughed, the last show she’d seen was Stomp! 

Frank experienced a throb of desire when she smiled, wanting to make it happen again.  He longed to kiss her, so he missed her next question.

“I’m sorry Lucy - say that again?” he flushed, frustrated he’d been so distracted.

“Would you like to go out one evening?” she enquired.




Story E

She has never been attracted to boys

Written by Miss Doll

Aria thinks she has never been attracted to males at all in her life. Those friends from high school were definitely wasting their time every night they tried to “pair her up” with the cutest boy of the disco.

She couldn’t remember how many times she dated Mr. Wrong, only to handle the pressure from family (“it’s time that you bring a boyfriend home, don’t you think?”), from classmates and friends.

Yes, many of her gal pals had already joked about her being gay, but the idea of considering seriously if her natural, spontaneous attraction to women’s beauty could mean something more than a sense for aesthetics, never crossed her mind.

After all, in the conservative countryside where she was born and raised, she had never seen (or heard of!) a lesbian couple, and to be honest, she was not so sure at all if a girl could truly be attracted by another girl in a sexual or romantic way.

So, she kept on interpreting the heartbeat that she felt at the sight of a luscious swinging ponytail in the wind, or a bodycon skirt that revealed a gorgeous pair of generous feminine hips, as a sign of her natural instinct to seek beauty, in all of its forms. Well, unless it’s the form of a male individual.

But, the more she grew up, the more her feelings about this were confused: around the age of 18-19, she definitely started to feel deeply sexual about other girls. The more her wet dreams about her gal pals haunted her at night, the more she felt ashamed.

Then, it was time to move to college. Aria had found a cute apartment, and she agreed to share it with two of her best friends from high school. It was an all-girl accommodation: after all, her conservative parents would never allow her to share a home with boys.

The first night at her new place happened something that Aria will remember forever. After she and her girls finished unpacking, one of the three roomies went out for dinner with friends. So Aria was left alone with Alicia, her best friend forever since they were kids.

They had dinner, then Aria was in the kitchen doing the dishes, and Alicia went in the living room, switched on the TV and started watching a movie.

“How damn beautiful is Ali, with that translucent chemise barely hiding her puffy nipples”, thought Aria, “and those golden blonde curls running all over her face”. Once she had finished with the dishes, she walked towards the living room, contemplating her friend’s sexiness without saying a word, and hoping that Ali wouldn’t notice that greedy gaze running all over her plus size body.

But then, she just felt shocked by what she saw on the TV! The “movie” featured two naked women kissing each other, clearly enjoying themselves a lot. “Jeez”, thought Aria, ”how could I ever imagine that Ali was into those ‘porn’ movies, as my brother calls them!”

After the initial surprise, however, Aria started to understand. She uttered: “So, I’m not the only one attracted by women, am I?”

“No” replied Ali. “Not at all. I’m lesbian too, and now that I’m away from my parents, I want to start dating girls”.

Ali and Aria lost their virginity that night, blushing like brides, and throwing their clothes on the sofa as if there was no tomorrow. They finally enjoyed romance for the first time, savoring every inch of each other’s bodies.

After a couple years they put together the courage to tell their families that they were dating each other, and they got an apartment together, to live their life as a couple to the fullest. They’re married now, and their passion is even steamier than before.

Miss Doll.  I’m a feminist, body-positive sex blogger. You can follow my adventures at https://missdollreviews.wixsite.com/sextoyreviews.



Story F

Standing Ovation

Written by May More

Our eyes meet and my cunt involuntarily contracts – a tiny bit of moisture escapes caressing my slit. There, seated at the next table, alone, staring, confident and smiling – he can only be about twenty-five years old. I shift in the chair, hoping my damp panties won’t stain my skirt. A rush of adrenalin floods my veins as blushing I turn away and wonder why he’s still looking. After all, I’m nearing forty.

Noticing I'm somewhat distracted the office girls joke with me – daydreaming again. We split the bill, say goodbye and leave the Won-Ton Restaurant. But realising my fortune cookie is still on the table, and being slightly superstitious by nature, I rush back to retrieve it. Pocketing the biscuit I feel a hand on my shoulder.

It’s him.

“How about a drink then?” he suggests in a sexy Irish brogue, sharp green eyes intent.

In the Red Lion pub, over a gin and tonic, we talk about my bastard ex-husband. A few months earlier I came home to find him shagging the cleaner. It was a wake-up call and I finally found the guts to take a stand and kick him out. My new friend nods and not to be outdone confesses to fleeing Ireland six years ago on the day he jilted his sweetheart.

I begin to feel bolder as we make the most of our time to brush hands and exchange glances.

Flirting and touching.

This is quite out of character for me as normally I’m a bit reserved but am enjoying our dance. It has been a while since an attractive guy has been so solicitous with me. Tonight, I’m a chameleon basking in the warmth of the moment.

Suddenly he grabs my arm. I’m not afraid as he is laughing and joking, taking the lead.

Outside in the dark, back alleyway we literally fall on each other.


Mouths searching.

Hands exploring.

Blouse ripped open.

My nipples are taut in the cool breeze – longing for attention. His tongue teases them and fingers find my slit and intrude into my sodden cunt. How I’ve waited for this.

His confined cock nudges my hip urging for release. I pull down the zip. The warm perfume of sex meets my nostrils as I edge back the foreskin, tentatively. His red, swollen knob glistens in the moonlight.

He opens a small packet from his pocket and swiftly covers his hardness with the contents.

Leaning me against the wall, he hitches up my skirt and jerks my legs open with his. Assured. Bending his knees he guides his cock past the gusset of my knickers. I respond, move my hips slightly forward – it stabs my pussy and victoriously angles into the warm, dewy flesh.

Groaning, he tugs at my long blond curls. My cunt greedily devours his cock. Hands positioned against the wall either side of me – a wilful capture – we begin to fuck, primally.

Grinding – short, sharp jabs.

Then long, vital strokes.

Eyes locked on mine – animated.


When his tongue finds my mouth, I begin to quiver and moan unable to hold back my climax. Intoxicated by the spontaneity. Within seconds he trembles and falls heavily against me panting.

We stand, simply holding each other. Heartbeats slowing. Satiated. His cock still trapped in my pussy.

Finally, it droops and slips out. Yet still connected, as we keep the embrace.

His wavy dark hair tickling my face. My back a little chafed from the craggy wall.

The sound of a police siren passes close by and snaps us back to reality. He zips his fly, strokes my cheek with soft fingertips and heads off to the toilet to clean up.

Buttoning my jacket, I wait.

He doesn’t return.

Smiling, I am not disappointed, just relishing my freedom and such an intense experience with a beautiful stranger. I'm invigorated.

We never even swapped names.

At home, finding the restaurant cookie in my pocket, I break it open and, reading the fortune, start to giggle,

“With your back against the wall, you can still stand tall.”