How to Read Erotica Without Shame

First things first: you need privacy.

Not "hiding-in-the-bathroom-with-your-phone" privacy. Real privacy.

Send the kids to Grandma’s for the weekend. Call in that solo vacation. Lock the doors, shut down the computer, silence the phone, and put your DMs on pause. The world can do without you for a few hours. Let it.

Now—breathe.

Treat yourself. Light the candles. Turn on your favorite make-out playlist. Run that long, hot bubble bath. Pour a glass of whatever makes you feel soft and grown. Eat your favorite meal and dessert in peace. Wrap yourself up in that blanket that feels like a full-body hug.

Charge your vibrator. Warm up your favorite toy. Get everything ready. This moment is about your pleasure, your body, your needs.

And if you hear that voice in your head—the one whispering, “You don’t have time for this.”
Or “You should clean, answer emails, pay bills, organize your sock drawer, or maybe solve world peace first…”
Kick that voice off a mental cliff.

Because that voice? That’s shame. That’s guilt. That’s the lie that everything else is more important than your joy. It’s not.

You are worthy of your own time. Your own attention. Your own touch.

So after your bath, lotion your skin slowly. Appreciate the feel of you—your softness, your strength, your warmth. This is the only body you’ve got. Show it love.

Now gather your supplies:
Erotic book? Check.
Lube? Check.
Toys? Check.
Water bottle? Absolutely—hydration is important.
Music? Optional, but recommended.

Once you’re settled—start reading. Or watching. Or fantasizing.

And this part is key: Pay attention.
What excites you? What act, what scene, what line makes your heart race or your breath catch?
Why? What does that tell you about your desires?

Touch yourself if you want to. Use your toy. Caress your skin. Go slow. Be curious. Be present. This isn’t about racing toward orgasm—it’s about discovery.
Where are you most sensitive?
Where do you want to be touched?
What kinds of intimacy wake something up inside you?

When it’s over—when you’ve rested, recovered, melted a little—reflect.

What did you learn about yourself?
What would you want to try again?
What would you want to share with a partner (if you have one)?
What surprised you?

And don’t skip your own aftercare. Drink some water. Wrap up in that blanket again. Sit in stillness for a few minutes. Let your body know it’s safe, seen, loved.

Ease your way back into the business of life, knowing you can always return to yourself. Your pleasure is yours. It belongs to no one else. And it’s waiting for you whenever you’re ready.

Go ahead and set that next date with yourself.

You deserve it.

Zuri