[wordup] Wordup Bad Erotica Competition

[Adam Shand]

So you get this because it's a friend (well, really a friend of a friend 
if I have to be honest about the whole thing) who wrote it.   Oh, and 
cause it's hilarious.

Also, just because I can't *not* post this:

   A highlight of the Pope's trip was a massive pray-in at a Madrid
   aerodrome, with tickets going for between $11 and $45 apiece.
   According to a report in The Guardian, believers received a backpack
   (dubbed the "pilgrim's bag") full of papal merchandise, including a
   "You Will Be My Witness" tour cap, CD, rosary and prayer book, plus
   vouchers for dinner (a burger, fries, soft drink and an ice cream or
   baked apple pie) at McDonald's.

   <sigh> ...

http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=628&ncid=628&e=2&u=/adweek/20030521/ad_bpiaw/holy_meals_at_mcdonald_s

Via: http://csof.net/module.php?mod=blog&name=wkw

Well, my dark disturbed side has finally gotten me some cold, hard, 
throbbing, vapid and highly sexual cash.

I was the grand prize winner of Nerve.com's "Bad Erotica" contest. I'd 
like to thank my wife for all the horrible sex I've given her that 
helped raise me to these undulating, penetrating heights.

From: http://www.nerve.com/fiction/baderotica/baderotica/

ORIGINAL EROTICA CATEGORY
GRAND PRIZE WINNER
Untitled
by "Bill"

She woke with the taste of his turgid penis on her lips. Even though he 
was gone, his juices and manhood lingered in her mind and on her cloying 
lips like Vaseline. The events of the previous night came racing back to 
her, clogging her mind with visions of ecstasy.

     She had never known a man like Julio before. When he came and 
boldly sat next to her, the musky scent of his manliness turned her from 
tigress to gentle kitten. She belonged to him before his supple buttocks 
pressed aggressively against the tattered faux-leather covering of the 
barstool.

     After sitting nursing his drink for what seemed like a hundred 
eternities to her already soaked vaginal cavity, he leaned toward her to 
speak. Her massive, sentimental breasts heaved in sexual anticipation. 
His breath, a combination of lust and malt liquor, intoxicated her 
nearly as much as his words.

     "My name is Julio, Julio Gottstein," he said, his smoldering eyes 
aflame in the victory he would soon celebrate. "And soon, I shall have you."

     Her heart pattered and swayed with passion as his rough hand took 
hers, and led her from the bar to her sparse, yet highly sexual studio 
apartment upstairs. Her eyes, clouded in lust, could see nothing but his 
strong, opulent frame — though he was easily four inches shorter than 
her, he seemed monumental in all aspects of his being.

     Once inside, he wasted no time in taking what was rightfully his, 
pulling her close for a long, moist and humid kiss. Their tongues 
intertwined like snakes slithering in a dance of forbidden love. His 
well-trained hands ripped open her T-shirt and smoothly undid her bra 
with only minor help from her. Her pendulous breasts swayed in 
anticipation as his toothless mouth gummed her large, perpetually hard 
nipples to a near exploding peak. She leaned her head back in 
submission, allowing this perfect man to claim what was his.

     She could not remember how or when this skillful man removed her 
girdle, panties and Levis, but soon she was naked before him. His 
powerful hands and majestic seven fingers pushed on her shoulders. She 
did not resist. Could not resist. She went to her knees and was 
face-to-face with his glistening, moist cockhead. His instrument of 
devastation was so hard and rigid, it made her flush with the need to 
consume it. It was as if his cock glowed with ethereal goodness.

     The first taste of his glans was like honey to a ravenous bear to 
her, filling her with its sweet, slick nectar. She gave him all she 
could. She was his bitch, his whore, his conquest. She took his entire 
love muscle in her mouth, something she had never done before. That was 
her gift to him. With his dong of desire nearly touching the back of her 
throat, she suckled him to a hardness that would make a sixteen-year-old 
athletic boy weep tears of envy.

     His climax came quickly and furiously, his sex sauce sliding down 
her throat like slimy alien invaders, guiding down her highly sexual 
esophagus to her creamy stomach. His authoritative hands pushed her 
away, and pushed his sanguine monster of mating back in to his torn khakis.

     His mission complete and desire sated, he stepped back, and in the 
cocksure way that was his alone, threw a crumpled, sex-stained $10 bill 
at her quivering, kneeling frame. He left her room and her life, the 
victor who had claimed his spoils. And he left her with memories of lust 
she could never quench.