OK here goes. What was the first piece of erotic literature you read? Or what have you read recently that you enjoyed or didnt enjoy

I remember my brother and his friends looking over a book called Emanuelle. THey wouldnt let me in om why they were all so interested and I was kicked out the room. I forgot all about it untill a few years later when I came across the book in his room and was like, I remember this.

I decided to take a look and then realised it was probably best read in private and took it off to my own beedroom to read.

After that it was Delta of Venus, which I only read when I got to university.

Apart from the ocassional bit of lesbian erotic writing I dont tend to read erotic literature ( Fifty shades aside) and tend to read mainstream literature but ocassionally dipping into some smut can be fun

 

First one I read was in the Canterbury Tales, the mark was set to the page that started the The Wife of Bath's Tale. I guess my earliest foray into literature was my first into erotic lit, as well. Turned out Chaucer was a bit ahead of his time when it came to sex stories.

 

I have read Emanuelle, The Joy of Sex, a few others. But what stands out in my mind the most are these very old paperback books. The guy i was living with at the time had brought home. They were in a box full of stuff. Buried in that box was a treasure for sure!! He was unaware of it. He spent alot of time with his buddies. While i spent alot of time laid up half naked in bed so engrossed in these stories. I would hide them and when he would leave i would run to retrieve them and settle in for a long and exciting read. I don't know how many there were but i do know i read every single one!! One day they just vanished..... i never asked what had happened to them.

Years later when i got older i tried to do research on them. Never found the name to a few but i did find out some were published by Greenleaf Classics and Beeline Novels. All i know was i lost hours reading them and enjoying time alone. I would love to find out whom the others were by and also get to reread them all.

 

I got addicted to old books and tales at a young age and that might be why I was too distracted to do well in school, well that and Gym class showers.

Heere folwen the wordes betwene the Hoost and the Millere


Whan that the Knyght had thus his tale ytoold,
In al the route nas ther yong ne oold
That he ne seyde it was a noble storie
And worthy for to drawen to memorie,
And namely the gentils everichon.
Oure Hooste lough and swoor, "So moot I gon,
This gooth aright; unbokeled is the male.
Lat se now who shal telle another tale;
For trewely the game is wel bigonne.
Now telleth ye, sir Monk, if that ye konne,
Somwhat to quite with the Knyghtes tale."
The Millere, that for dronken was al pale,
So that unnethe upon his hors he sat,
He nolde avalen neither hood ne hat,
Ne abyde no man for his curteisie,
But in Pilates voys he gan to crie,
And swoor, "By armes, and by blood and bones,
I kan a noble tale for the nones,
With which I wol now quite the Knyghtes tale."
And seyde, "Abyd, Robyn, my leeve brother;
Som bettre man shal telle us first another.
Abyd, and lat us werken thriftily."
"By Goddes soule," quod he, "that wol nat I;
For I wol speke or elles go my wey."
Oure Hoost answerde, "Tel on, a devel wey!
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome."
"Now herkneth," quod the Millere, "alle and some!
But first I make a protestacioun
That I am dronke; I knowe it by my soun.
And therfore if that I mysspeke or seye,
Wyte it the ale of Southwerk, I you preye.
For I wol telle a legende and a lyf
Bothe of a carpenter and of his wyf,
How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe."
The Reve answerde and seyde, "Stynt thy clappe!
Lat be thy lewed dronken harlotrye.
It is a synne and eek a greet folye
To apeyren any man, or hym defame,
And eek to bryngen wyves in swich fame.
Thou mayst ynogh of othere thynges seyn."
This dronke Millere spak ful soone ageyn
And seyde, "Leve brother Osewold,
Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold.
But I sey nat therfore that thou art oon;
Ther been ful goode wyves many oon,
And evere a thousand goode ayeyns oon badde.
That knowestow wel thyself, but if thou madde.
Why artow angry with my tale now?
I have a wyf, pardee, as wel as thow;
Yet nolde I, for the oxen in my plogh,
Take upon me moore than ynogh,
As demen of myself that I were oon;
I wol bileve wel that I am noon.
An housbonde shal nat been inquisityf
Of Goddes pryvetee, nor of his wyf.
So he may fynde Goddes foyson there,
Of the remenant nedeth nat enquere."
What sholde I moore seyn, but this Millere
He nolde his wordes for no man forbere,
But tolde his cherles tale in his manere.
M'athynketh that I shal reherce it heere.
And therfore every gentil wight I preye,
For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye
Of yvel entente, but for I moot reherce
Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse,
Or elles falsen som of my mateere.
And therfore, whoso list it nat yheere,
Turne over the leef and chese another tale;
For he shal fynde ynowe, grete and smale,
Of storial thyng that toucheth gentillesse,
And eek moralitee and hoolynesse.
Blameth nat me if that ye chese amys.
The Millere is a cherl; ye knowe wel this.
So was the Reve eek and othere mo,
And harlotrie they tolden bothe two.
Avyseth yow, and put me out of blame;
And eek men shal nat maken ernest of game.

None of it is mis-spelled it is just from the 1300's.

 

My initial literature into the wide world of sex was borrowed from my sister's library who was a slut and an avid reader of erotic literature. The Joy of Sex was my first, then Kama Sutra followed up with Sex and the Stars which I still own copies of the first two. My favorite reads since then have been hands down, Instinct and Evolution of Anal and Oral Love, Sexual Energy Ecstasy and Jay Wiseman's S&M 101 though I have several original sexual manuals dating as far back as the 50's.

 

I loved reading Emannuelle, I didnt know much about anything at the time so it was a bit of an eye opener. I used to borrow my brothers porn mags from time to time and would read some of the stories in those and they usually made me slip my hand into my panties.

 

My first was, like several of you, the old Greenleaf/Beeline paperbacks. My dad had a stash of them and I’d “borrow” them when I could! Strictly for research of course!

 

Not really literature but my mother had the book "Our Bodies, Ourselves" A 1970's book on women's bodies and sexuality. It gave me things to ponder... and jerk off to.

 

My first was a couple paperbacks I found in my parents' bookshelf. The Fan Club by Irving Wallace was the first. Elaborate kidnapping and rape fantasy I wold not be comfortable reading now, but back then it blew my mind. Then I found Goodbye Janette by Harold Robbins. Didn't care for that one much, so I skimmed to the sex scenes.

After that, probably a floppy disk of text files with tabboo stories a friend gave me.

 

I love Pride and Prejudice because I am convinced that Elizabeth Bennet was a dirty girl in disguise and Darcy always gave it a rub or two so it was looking its best.

Thinskin

 

I do remember showing a friend one of my brothers porn mags. I guess I thought she would enjoy or at least be curious but she was disgusted which made me feel like a freak. I guess I am a freak and should have never sneaked that naughty french novel into my bedroom and I would have been a normal staight girl now

 

I found a paperback copy of Fannie Hill when I was fairly young. It was written 1748, so the language was a little vague for me, but I managed to wade through to understand that "mossy tendrils" were pubic hair, and "proud member" was a cock. It took a while but I figured out that "plentious effusion" was a cum shot.

 

I did the same to a sex education book that we had. I was of an age not to be spoken of on this forum.
First fiction, apart from the stories in porn magazines, was a book written by the presenter of the 8 o'clock news. Een Robuuste Buste, Een! (One Robust Bosom, One!). I could not get through the book, so ill-written and such boring stories that were meant to be erotic literature.
It cost the news man his job.

 

Mostly online stories, and unfortunately there are very few good ones.

 

Certainly not literature, but they definitely had a superior and lasting merit. The Happy Hooker, by Xaviera Hollander. And just about everything by Nancy Friday, My Secret Garden, Forbidden Flowers and Men in Love to name a few.

 

Here follow the words between the Host and the Miller



When the Knight had thus told his tale,
In all the company there was no one young nor old
Who did not say it was a noble story
And worthy to draw into memory,
And especially the gentlefolk every one.
Our Host laughed and swore, "As I may move about (I swear),
This goes well; the bag is opened.
Let's see now who shall tell another tale;
For truly the game is well begun.
Now tell you, sir Monk, if you can,
Something to equal the Knight's tale."
The Miller, who for drunkenness was all pale,
So that he hardly sat upon his horse,
He would not doff neither hood nor hat,
Nor give preference to any man out of courtesy,
But in Pilate's voice he began to cry,
And swore, "By (Christ's) arms, and by blood and bones,
I know a noble tale for this occasion,
With which I will now requite the Knight's tale."
Our Host saw that he was drunk on ale,
And said, "Wait, Robin, my dear brother;
Some better man shall first tell us another.
Wait, and let us act properly."
"By God's soul," said he, "that will not I;
For I will speak or else go my way."
Our Host answered, "Tell on, in the devil's name!
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome."
"Now listen," said the Miller, "everyone!
But first I make a protestation
That I am drunk; I know it by my sound.
And therefore if that I misspeak or say (amiss),
Blame it on ale of Southwerk, I you pray.
For I will tell a legend and a life
Both of a carpenter and of his wife,
How a clerk has set the carpenter's cap (fooled him)."
The Reeve answered and said, "Hold your tongue!
Let be thy ignorant drunken ribaldry.
It is a sin and also a great folly
To slander any man, or defame him,
And also to bring wives in such ill fame.
Thou canst say enough about other things."
This drunken Miller spoke very quickly in reply
And said, "Dear brother Oswald,
He who has no wife, he is no cuckold.
But I say not therefore that thou art one;
There are very good wives, many a one,
And ever a thousand good against one bad.
Thou knowest that well thyself, unless thou art mad.
Why art thou angry with my tale now?
I have a wife, by God, as well as thou;
Yet I would not, for the oxen in my plow,
Take upon me more than enough (trouble),
As to believe of myself that I were one (a cuckold);
I will believe well that I am not one.
A husband must not be inquisitive
Of God's secrets, nor of his wife.
So long as he can find God's plenty there,
Of the rest he needs not enquire."
What more should I say, but this Miller
He would not refrain from speaking for any man,
But told his churl's tale in his manner.
I regret that I must repeat it here.
And therefore every respectable person I pray,
For God's love, think not that I speak
Out of evil intention, but because I must repeat
All their tales, be they better or worse,
Or else (I must) falsify some of my material.
And therefore, whoever does not want to hear it,
Turn over the leaf and choose another tale;
For he shall find enough, of every sort,
Of historical matter that concerns nobility,
And also morality and holiness.
Blame not me if you choose amiss.
The Miller is a churl; you know this well.
So was the Reeve also and many others,
And ribaldry they told, both of the two.
Think about this, and don't blame me;
And also people should not take a joke too seriously.


Same as what I posted above just in modern English.

 

My first erotic literature was a paperback I found in a box of books my uncle brought over. I don't remember the title, but it was about a girl whose father dies and she goes to live with an aunt that owns a biker bar. The girl gets a very explicit sex education from the bikers that come to the bar, and ends up joining their club. I loved that book, and kept it hidden under my mattress while I read it.