Better Than Chocolate

Better Than Chocolate


A collection of five erotic stories with mixed Valentines themes including threesome, bdsm and partner swapping.

Better Than Chocolate by Amelia Thornton

The last thing she wants after a tedious Valentine’s Day in the office is a boring old box of chocolates. Luckily, her boyfriend, Aaron, doesn’t disappoint her. His present to her is a muscular stud tied up with red ribbon, and the threeway fun begins as soon as she unwraps him.

The Stocks by Roger Frank Selby

The main prop in the school play is a set of stocks – the perfect challenge to create for a woodwork teacher with an inventively dominant streak. Miss Curzon is surprisingly eager to be the model in their construction, especially once she’s seen the drawings of how she would look in them, naked and helpless. Will the reality of being restrained prove just as much of a turn-on as the fantasy?

E620 by Lucy Felthouse

Sometimes, the best way to get through a boring lecture is to entertain yourself with a spicy fantasy. This erotica-writing student has a vivid imagination and a lust for her fellow student, Karl, and when the two combine, the result is sizzling sex in the classroom.

Crush by Primula Bond

Her naked portrait might adorn the gallery walls, looking wanton and available, but Polly is as sweet and innocent as they come. Her boss, Giles, is throwing a party and wants her to help out. With the aid of a classy makeover, Polly hopes to finally make Giles notice her, and ensure her first time is one she’ll never forget.

A Weekend Retreat by Izzy French

Their weekend in the country has been building to the point where these four old friends will finally act on their unspoken desire for each other. What begins as a simple game of strip poker turns into a night of breathtaking passion and excitement as partners are swapped and all inhibitions are released.

These stories have also been published in Sex, Love and Valentines ISBN 9781907016103


Click for excerpt »


Morning lectures are a bitch. No matter how much sleep I get the night before – whether it be the recommended eight hours, or an excessive ten – I still cannot get to grips with mornings. I’ve just come to accept that I’m far from being an early bird, and always stop at the University shop for a can of Red Bull before continuing up to room E620. I then saunter in, half-asleep and grin weakly at my classmates and lecturer before slumping into a chair and popping open my can.

Today is no exception. Although I’m not bored, or particularly tired, I still feel myself dozing off. Aware of how bad this would look if the lecturer noticed, I decide to do something to spice up the atmosphere a little. I let my mind wander, not even telling it off when it hesitates outside the door marked ‘XXX.’

I chuckle inwardly at its boldness, particularly this early in the day, and my consciousness takes this to be the nod, and we’re in. Welcome to the naughty part of my brain, probably the largest part, and certainly not a place for the faint hearted! A mischievous little character wanders up and down the aisles of my ‘X’ files, and finally re-appears, carrying a box marked ‘favourite fantasies.’ Ah, he chooses well.

Back in the real world, I catch Karl’s eye across the room. He grins, and I suspect his creative mind is up to mischief, not unlike mine. Funny really that it should be Karl. Perhaps he sensed he was in my thoughts. More specifically the box marked ‘favourite fantasies.’

Karl is – to borrow the cliché – “the one that got away.” Our relationship exists purely in erotic daydreams, safe from the prying eyes of the outside world, and safe from rejection.

My entry into the world of erotic literature has plenty to do with Karl’s interference. We were chatting one lunchtime, about sex in general, funny stories and so on. He then suddenly came out with,

“You should write porn!”

“What!” I said, shocked.

“You should. You’re one of the most open minded women I’ve ever met, you should have a bash at writing something. I reckon you’d be really good.”

I didn’t think much of it at first, and soon forgot about the conversation. Karl, however, refused to let it go and kept bringing it up, then eventually he dared me to write something. I relented, and asked him what his favourite sexual fantasy was. He told me the gist; every teenage boy’s fantasy, having sex with his young and attractive teacher. I wrote my first piece of erotic fiction based on that. Needless to say, he read and thoroughly enjoyed the story, and encouraged me to write more erotica, then gave me feedback on what I’d written. From those lunchtime chats, we developed an insight into each other’s sexual tastes.

The fantasy I’m thinking of right now takes place in this very room, E620. As you walk in, you’re standing in a slight alcove, then the room opens out to tables, chairs, and a seldom used overhead projector. The door has a sturdy-looking Yale lock, the type you can lock from inside without the key.

In my fantasy, I’m looking fab in a knee length black skirt, black patterned stockings, knee-high boots and a chunky jumper. It’s winter, for God’s sake!

Karl’s looking damn fine in faded light blue jeans. Tight, of course, clinging to his ass and thighs. His black t-shirt emphasises his broad chest and muscular arms. His sexy tattoos, always an element of fascination for me, are clearly visible on his right arm, one encircling his bicep, the other adorning his inner forearm.

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