This post is rated 'R'

You may want to pour yourself a drink before you read any further. And make sure you’re sitting down.

To say things have gotten a little steamy at Mamamia HQ lately is an understatement.

Lord, is it an understatement.

Ever since we launched our Erotic Fiction Competition, we’ve been inundated with entries from our readers keen to have a go at writing us something to rival Fifty Shades of Grey.

As promised we’re going to post a selection of our favourite entries over the coming weeks. And remember – it’s not too late to enter.  You have until 31 August to send us your entry which could win you the chance to have your erotic novel published by Mamamia …

And now it’s over to our first author Jo and her entry, ‘The Dark’.

For the millionth time I wonder why I’ve bothered to come to this ‘destination wedding’ at all. Grant clearly doesn’t want me here and at this very moment my beloved boyfriend’s hand is sliding down the back of a very pretty blonde. The dim bar lighting is making it hard for me to see exactly where his hand is heading and people are starting to dance to the pounding music, obscuring my view. I squint, trying to monitor the trajectory. It’s too dark!

“I’m going,” I tell my friends.  I walk directly across the dance floor, shoving past him.

He walks over to me. “Babe,” he drapes his arm over my shoulder and starts nuzzling my ear. He smells like beer and bong. I push him off me and regard him with disdain. He’s a mess. His hair is sweaty and grimy, his face is pink and his eyes are their usual blood-shot mess.

“I’m leaving,” I announce dramatically. He holds his hand up to his ear and I scream much louder than is necessary. “I am leaving!”

He holds his hands out in front of him in a gesture of contrition but I am over it. I turn around and leave, part of me hoping he will follow me but the rest of me know he will not.

I make my way out of the bar, stumbling a little as I figure out the way back to our villa. Gosh, that vodka and orange has hit me hard. I’m not much of a drinker. So how did I end up with someone like Grant?

Arriving at our villa I navigate the stairs, clinging to the rail. My head is swimming. The sad thing is I’m not surprised. He treats me like crap and then turns on the charm and I fall for it every time.

I find our room and strip off all my clothes except for my black camisole and my underwear. I climb onto the top bunk of the double bunk bed we have been left with (clearly this is a family villa and we are in the kids room) and I slide under the sheets, but not before pounding my pillow in frustration. There’s no way I am going to be able to sleep tonight.

I stare into the darkness. This was meant to be a romantic weekend. Seeing our friends getting married was meant to bring us closer together. They’re the first in group to tie the knot. Why do I keep thinking he’ll get his shit together? Why do I keep waiting for him to change?

I have just started drifting off to sleep when I hear the door open quietly. My first thought that it is Grant, coming to apologise. Well, I don’t want to talk to him.

I lie still, feigning sleep, even though he can’t see me in the pitch black room. He’ll be drunk anyway. I’m surprised he was able to find our room.

I hear the door close quietly and am immediately struck with the thought that this isn’t Grant. Grant rarely cares about being quiet. He opens doors obnoxiously and loudly, just as he closes them.

The figure moves quietly towards the bed and an unmistakeable male, musky smell drifts towards me.

I hear the unmistakable sound of jeans being unbuttoned. Just as I’m about to announce myself I feel a hand land hard on my breast.

“What the fuck?” The stranger gropes at my breast, trying to figure out what he is touching.

I laugh quietly and reached out and touched his arm. “It’s okay.”

I keep my hand on his tensed forearm. He stands completely still for a moment and then slowly, he begins to feel my breast, except his touch is different now. I know I should stop him.

He slips a finger under my camisole and pulls it down, freeing my breasts. My nipple puckers immediately and I know I won’t stop him now.

He withdraws his hand and I almost cry out. I hear him remove his jeans and climb up onto the bed. I don’t say a word. I don’t want to break the spell.

I tuck my legs up and press them against the wall to make room for him. He places his hand on my knee and runs it up to my thigh. He finds my panties and pulls them aside.

He presses his lips into me softly at first and then I feel the very tip of his tongue gently nudge the soft folds of skin apart. I gasp. No one has ever done this to me before.

I’m having trouble keeping still now. I run my fingers through soft thick hair and press him into me.

The darkness heightens the sensation. I can’t see. I can only feel.