Category Archives: Erotique

Erotique 7 now on sale

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Eros is the energy that makes the world go round. These sensuous stories trace its flow: two girls and a mother pursue the same man…an aunt seduces her nephew…a labor dispute catches fire in a motel room… a son loans his porn star fiancée to his father… students and faculty long for the school nurse…a great writer can’t let go of a greater one…and a fish in the sea summons a man to his wife.

With more than 100 stories in print and online literary journals, Robert Earle is one of the most widely published contemporary writers of short fiction. His collection of stories, “Imagining Women” will be published by Vine Leaves Press in 2017. He also is the author of several novels, including “Suffer the Children” and “In the Blood of Herod and Rome,” and a nonfiction account of his experiences in Iraq, “Nights in the Pink Motel.” He has degrees from Princeton and Johns Hopkins, served as a diplomat for twenty-five years, and now lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Cover by Rosemary Feit Covey

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Erotique 6 is now on sale!

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Sample pages

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A medieval priest decides he will shut down a house of ill repute. An actress playing a topless part on stage decides a little more nudity might enhance the production. A slave girl in ancient Persia crosses boundaries. A survivor from the destruction of Atlantis learns the intricacies of love in Celtic society. These are just a few of the stories this issue of Erotique explores. The erotic touches a multitude of themes and enters lives in so many ways throughout the flow of time, culture, and history.

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David W. Landrum has been published widely in journals and anthologies in the US, UK, Canada, Europe, and Asia.

Erotique needs proofreaders

Mars probably still needs women, but Erotique definitely needs at least one new proofreader. If you have any interest in proofreading some top quality erotica and a free copy of your issue, please contact me at
editor AT wapshottpress DOT com Thank you!

Now on Sale! Erotique 5!

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Erotique, Issue 5

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Sampler (pdf)
Edited by Ginger Mayerson; Cover by Molly Kiely

Welcome to Erotique, Issue 5!

Boredom, after a while, becomes physically painful. I have watched so much Jeopardy that I am good at it, even at American history and anagrams. There came a point when I turned on the XBox and there were no games I hadn’t won. My life up until now had been a relentless cycle of hockey-school-hockey that had segued smoothly after college into the current pattern of hockey-work-soccer-hockey-workworkWORK. Now, all my time is free.
Hat Trick, by Butch Lee Rivers

The Capitol Club hadn’t changed in ten years, and Derrick Cavenaugh wondered if that was good or bad or inconsequential. It had been quite the progressive bar when it opened—Turkish themed, with pillows on the floor (!) for seating—but now was just another Jagermeister-stop along the Pike-Pine corridor in service of the weekend Millennial wilders from across the lake and Issaquah. He trudged upstairs and squeezed past the throng at the Moroccan-tiled bar to step out onto the open-air balcony with its tiny wrought iron tables. Ten years ago, cigarette smoke might have tickled his nose out there; ten years ago, the sunset view of downtown Seattle would have been unobstructed by construction cranes. Derrick ran a hand through his hair, which had also been thicker the last time he was here. He had no idea why Bernice had chosen this place for her party, but there was nothing to do about it now; he opened a glass French door to the laughing group of youths splayed within, and forced himself to smile.
“Dare!” Bernice was supine against sage-colored silk pillows that set off her chestnut curls and creamy skin to incandescence. “You came!”
Bernice Pegs Her Dare, by Paullette Gaudet

We delight in the pastimes of the night.
But oh, what splendors are committed in light!

“What’s that you’re reading?”
“Must be wonderful stuff.” Remarkable poetry indeed, to make the eyes sparkle so excitedly and the face flush.
Couplet, by Colleen Leah

“Harry? Oi, Harry!”
Harry Thompson rubbed his eyes and raised his head groggily from his desk. The desk was piled with papers, all covered in his own scratchy handwriting: assorted sketches, diagrams, notes, and doodles. He rubbed his eyes again, then peered at his twin, stifling a yawn. “Joolz? Izz’at you?”
I Am Always Touched By Your Presence (Dear), by Rory Ondine

The argument started over a movie, the rerelease of one Gretchen and Steve saw on their first date in college. Gretchen had watched it again on video, and did not want to see it a third time. Steve said he was angry at her lack of sentiment, but Gretchen knew he was really upset that she had not been delighted at his good memory.
The Slap, Paullette Gaudet

I was cumming. My lover was still pounding into me, the thick shaft driving deep into my depths as my stomach clenched, my pussy tightened and I came hard. God, I came so hard with hips slamming against my ass, still red and stinging. Strong fingers dug into my hips, holding me tight and still while I came, making sure I didn’t move, couldn’t escape the almost unbearable pleasure.
Reversals, by Raven Ramsey

The blur of traffic passing her on I-15 matched the blur of events that brought her to this dusty California highway. She had been walking all night and half the day, her thumb poised eastward. Sarah James winced and rubbed her cheek, which was still bruised beneath the blemish cream. It was his favorite place to hit her. Sarah had far different reasons for mastering makeup than most 18-year-old girls. The last 24 hours raced through her mind like a high-speed train with frequent stops. Still feeling the bruises from last week’s beating, Sarah was acutely aware of the danger signals as she arrived home the previous night. Deanna James was face down on the couch. The rubber cord still encircled her mother’s arm like a loose bra strap. Leonard held an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Thousands of white dots littered the TV screen. Leonard pounded the set with his free hand. He jerked around to face her, bloodshot eyes glaring.
Unfallen Snow, by Anne Namyr

The first time I watched porn with a girl was with Lauren, who was safe because she wasn’t my girlfriend and I wasn’t sleeping with her.
It was a late ‘80s thing, called “Fly Me” on VHS and was a stewardess fantasy that took place around a fictional airline. They had stock footage of airplanes and some dialogue scenes inside what looked like a real airport and there were the prerequisite scenes in “first class” in which the stewardess delivers coffee, tea and blowjobs that looked like it was shot in someone’s garage with some spare airplane seats rigged up. There were also layovers in anonymous hotel rooms. The fashions were ridiculous with bouffant hairdos and the women wearing garters and stockings that you never saw anywhere else except in Victoria’s Secret ads, and ridiculous wooden acting that elicited laughs and derision from Lauren and me rather than the intended horniness as we fast-forwarded through the sex scenes to get to the “plot” while hanging out in Gary’s empty apartment.
On Or Around Lauren, by Roger Leatherwood


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Call for Erotica

Erotica that hasn’t been on the web that I could publish in Issue 5 or 6 of Erotique next year. The story would need to be 3,000 or more words, and sexy. If you can make some not usually erotic activity sexy, I will gladly publish it. I personally find going to the library titillating, but that either explains a lot about me or is more than you want to know or both. Or something. I believe there’s more to erotica than sex (nothing against sex; it’s wonderful), and I’d love to publish that sort of thing because I think there should be more of it published. For example, there is a scene in “Something Wicked This Way Comes” that I realized as an adult was extremely sexy without sex. I understand now that the beautifully written combination of suspense, scene, sensuality, and menace, were… gah! Unfortunately or fortunately, I read SWTWC when I was 13 and didn’t understand why I read that part over and over and over and over (you get the idea) until I was older. I don’t want to ruin the book for anyone, so if you want to know what I’m going on about, please email me. That whole book is like slipping into a warm bath, so if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.

Story deadline is October. I have a very broad mind (het, gay, solo, groups [no furries]) and will publish anything that I like that won’t get me arrested, but it you think your idea is pushing the envelope, please email me about it. Please visit the submission guidelines (no, not that kind of submission) for details on how to submit.

Now on sale! Erotique, Issue 4!

Where to buy: 10% off code: AT7QJ4PV at this online store, Amazon; Kindle.

Erotique, Issue 4

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Sampler (pdf)
Cover by Jennifer Bentson

Erotique, the Wapshott Journal of Erotica, is pleased to present Issue 4 chock full of marvelously sexy stories.

I stood in the living room, tapping my foot, watching the morning news without really paying attention.
Another Satisfied Customer, by Allison Yates

I am fucking my ex-girlfriend.
Break-Up Sex, by Paullette Gaudet

Why, I been looking for a new Smagbee for a long time now, since the old one died in a mystery, its legs all pooped and dangly.
Smagbee, by Elle Pryor

With the window down and the summer wind blowing, Craig looked tanned and relaxed.
Turkey Point, by Kelly Rand

After wolfing down a Stouffer ’s dinner in front of the TV, Ida escaped to her hour-long ritual: shower, a painful comb-out of her tangled hair, then makeup and clothes.
At The Regal, by Terry Sanville

Jade walked carefully up the steps to Gordon’s house, navigating the chunks of ice as best as she could in her black high-heeled boots.
Winter Showers, by Val Gryphin

Priscilla wasn’t happy with the man her cousin Emmy intended to marry—the man being Richie, whom Priscilla insisted on calling Richard as if that would improve him.
Why Can’t Men Be Ferraris? by Robert Earle

Melanie wanted nothing more than to sink her fingers into the blonde tresses of her friend and pull that beautiful face between her legs.
In Two Bi Friends by Raven Ramsey

Now on Sale! Erotique 3!

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Sharanya Manivannan

Sky Clad

I dreamt last night of a white lion moving through the sadness of all the rooms in which you loved me. It was still dark when I woke in the faint December chill; just delicate enough that I wandered my own rooms with a light shawl about my shoulders, and when in that hour of stillness I brought a cup of coffee to the balcony I sensed more than saw the colour blue: as though the world beyond my window, with its neem trees and bearded bee-eaters and rusty shield-bearers that rained flowers in mango season, had been tinted in selenium. And I thought of the fixed star, Regulus, which you taught me by name as though I would ever be able to identify it. You had bought me rubies, my birthstone, and when I hooked them into my ears to show you their effect, you let your hand brush my cheek as you reached out to touch them. “It means the star in the heart of the lion,” you said. Your fingers were cold, too cold for July.

Then you dropped your hand to my collarbone, where your fingertips rested like a pianist’s, and with your thumb you parted my mouth. “Regulus, the star of Raphael, the healer.” Against my teeth, your skin tasted of the sea, but when I closed my eyes I saw a hue like the evening sky, rose-radiant. And then, a kiss like a tide I surfaced from not knowing I had gone under at all.

David W. Landrum

The Priestess and the Sorcerer

Helga pushed against the Norman nobleman, hooking her heels over his so she could drive him deeper into her and maximize the pleasure of his strong, pounding motion. Her cunt was getting juicy and slick, so much that she heard the comic flatulent sound she got sometimes when she really went to it with a man. She bucked and moaned as waves of delight enveloped her. He pounded harder. Juice ran down her legs and her nipples grew hard as pebbles. Each time he thrust and flattened against her breasts, warm streams of joy ran through her spine to her bottom where the main pleasure churned. As he puffed, grunted, and drove into her, she felt her pleasure stir and build until it exploded in a spasm that shook her so much she thought she might break her apart. As she emerged from it and relaxed, she felt him go. The warm stream of his seed shot into her as he shouted and flailed. Then came silence and stillness. She heard the breakers of the sea rolling in, just audible above their quiet breathing, off in the distance. The Norman climbed off her and stood up.

It happened the next moment, more quickly than she had imagined it would.

She saw it first in his eyes. They widened. An expression of horror and bewilderment covered his face. His hands twitched. The twitching traveled up his arms and turned into a violent convulsion that shook his entire body. Mouth open, arms and legs flailing as if he were being hanged, he gasped for air. Helga heard his bones snap from the violence of the tremor that had seized him. He fell, his flesh shriveled, the blood, bile, and the other vital fluids in his body drying up and turning to a ghastly green cloud rising off his desiccated flesh. She felt a surge of warmth in her loins. It spread down and upward from her perineum. As the green cloud dissolved, she saw him lying in a dry, shrunken heap on the dirt floor of Kirsi’s hut.

Carolyn Foulkes

Escape on the Paracosm Express

Paracosm: a prolonged fantasy world invented by sensitive, intelligent people who have been traumatized. This psychological condition can have a definite geography, time and history.

Dramatic Entrance—1957

Corinne Jardines was awakened by the door slamming, followed by the barn doors on the garage being opened and, a few minutes later, being closed. The sounds reverberated like a bad toothache. She rolled over in the empty bed, tucked her brunette hair under her head and adjusted her left breast for comfort. There, that’s it, she thought. Harold is gone—to Los Angeles or wherever his “job” took him this week. If it was his “job,” it was a customer whose demands interrupted their suppers and weekends.

She curled on her side wishing he’d have at least said “Goodbye” or “See you Friday”—even “Go-to-hell” would have been communication—but there had been nothing. She was alone till Casey, her daughter, came back from Pacific University for the weekend.

No appointments. No dates. Their absence didn’t spell freedom as much as the terrifying fear that comes from an infinity of choices and regrets.

Raven Ramsey

Too Late

The rain was more like slush as it pelted the windows and ran down in clumps. It wasn’t too late to catch the subway, Soft thought. It was far from too late to keep things from happening. She wasn’t sure what it was that was happening but she knew it was something.

These two boys, Mars and Chell. Well, they weren’t boys anymore. Once, back in high school when they were all just gawky teens who spoke the some dialect of dweeb, they had been boys. Boys she had felt safe enough to flirt with and tease. Boys who never asked more from her then just her friendship. She could say honestly to herself that she never thought they would want anything more from her. She hadn’t learned just what her soft brown eyes and curved body was capable of. All she had needed was confidence and these boys had helped give it to her by being her test subjects. They must have known she was all talk but liked her anyway and she loved them for it.

Innocent flirting with her two best friends lead her to the real thing in college where she realised she didn’t have to hide in sweaters or behind wide rim glasses. Nothing about her actual body had changed but she just dared to believe others could find it sexy. She forgot the time someone slipped a note calling her fatty into her locker and instead styled her soft brown hair and dressed in clothes that showed the line of her body that dipped sensuously inwards at the waist and out over her hips. The day someone had used the word “hourglass” to describe her was one of the best of her life.

Raven Ramsey


The bonfire was a roiling beast. Even from his place on the outer fringes of the group, Sheldon could feel the heat baking into his skin. It was a nice contrast to the chilly breeze hitting the back of his thick coat and jeans. He hated the cold. It was the end of July but an unseasonable wind was blowing through, dropping temperatures to the single digits in that night.

A perfect night for a thirty foot bonfire.

It was an annual tradition he’s been told by his friend, the owners of the house and huge field saving every huge thing that could burn all year for this night. She had invited Sheldon and he loved the moment when they doused all the refuge with gas and then lit it. It was actually his second time seeing this monster churning up into the air, all the smoke invisible in the night, all but the barest scent carried away on the cold gusts of wind that blew across his face the strands of hair that had escaped his pony tail. It was his second favourite thing about the parties. He turned his head and saw his first.

Her name was Jane.

Jennifer Bentson


Erotique 3 on Kindle pre-publication

Erotique 3 on Kindle. Free to borrow for Amazon Prime members. Reviews very welcome.

Erotique 3 book trailer: Sky Clad by Sharanya Manivannan

Erotique 3 book trailer: Sky Clad by Sharanya Manivannan

Coming Soon! Erotique 3!

NOW ON SALE and Where to buy: 10% off code: AT7QJ4PV at this online store.
Amazon, eligible for Free Shipping! (And don’t forget Amazon Europe)

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