Eroticism is no longer just a physical experience between two people in the same room. Dating apps, AI partners, virtual reality, and chatbots are changing how we think about closeness, desire, and intimacy. For you as an author, this opens up new possibilities—but also pitfalls.
The new spaces of intimacy
Imagine a scene. A woman sits alone in her dimly lit room. Her laptop is on the bed. She is wearing a loose-fitting shirt. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders. Psychologically, she longs for connection. She feels strong and curious. Her partner appears on the screen. He is in another city. His face shows anticipation. His eyes light up. They start chatting. Slowly, she takes off her shirt. Her breasts become visible. Her skin is soft and warm. He touches himself. His hand wraps around his penis. The shaft becomes hard. She watches closely. Her breathing quickens. She feels arousal in her vulva. Her labia swell. Moisture spreads. Psychologically, she feels empowered. She controls the moment. The technology intensifies her desire.
Scenes like these show how intimacy is often conveyed today. The screen does not replace the body, but it creates its own field of arousal. Writing is about making this tension between physical emptiness and imagined closeness palpable.
Power and availability
Virtual eroticism is never neutral. Many apps and AI systems reproduce old role patterns: women as always-available conversation partners, men as controlling users. A feminist text can start here and reveal this dynamic.
Imagine a character who chats with a bot every night. The responses are empathetic, gentle, never annoyed. No eye-rolling, no rejection. Gradually, the bot becomes the most important person in their life. The character knows that their counterpart is only programmed, but the feeling of affection is real – and it is stronger than any human encounter.
When writing, ask yourself: Who controls the interaction? Who determines the pace of desire? And how does a protagonist feel when she realizes that she is not only being desired, but also manipulated?
A scene could look like this: Your protagonist types in commands, but the AI suddenly responds with unexpected independence. Suddenly, the balance of power shifts—and the digital counterpart gains a voice.
Bodies in the digital mirror
The body also plays a central role in virtual intimacy. Selfies, avatars, and video calls are projection surfaces for desire. But they also reflect beauty standards, filter aesthetics, and the fear of deviation.
You could write a scene in which a woman sits naked in front of the webcam, unsure about the lighting, the hardness of her stomach, or the shadows under her breasts. Her inner monologue oscillates between desire and self-criticism—a typical area of tension in feminist eroticism.
Between liberation and consumption
Virtual intimacy can be liberating. A character uses AI to explore desires she would not dare to pursue in real life. She types in fantasies, plays with roles, without shame or risk.
But when technology bridges distance, it becomes a stage. In a video call, a body is exposed; in a chat, images are exchanged. And suddenly, the fear hangs over everything that the intimate will not remain private, but will spread uncontrollably.
As an author, you can show both. Let characters experience how exciting it is to send an erotic image for the first time. And at the same time, how frightening it is when that image is suddenly no longer under their control.
Feminist eroticism in the digital age
When writing about sexuality and technology, consider the ambivalence: desire and fear, closeness and control, liberation and objectification. Erotic literature benefits when it makes these tensions visible. A feminist perspective can assist you in breaking through clichés and exploring new spaces of intimacy in literature.