Goal: Write the most cheesy/sleazy love scenes you can think of.

The most gobsmackingly awful contributor will be thoroughly smacked with <fish>< as a reward.


(I was about to say "Bonus points for using the words "swooned" and "bosom" more than once in one sentence". But, erm, even I probably won't want to read the end result of that, so you are free to deploy your swoons and bosoms as you wish.)

He would later liken kissing her to inflicting an apnea on himself. He would lean in close and place his thumb on the corner of her mouth, like pressing the switch to a secret passage. Enveloping his seeking tongue with the moisture of her own mouth, his head would pitch and reel, as though concussed. And as in the case of a real concussion, he would vomit a few hours later.

The raindrops pelting against the windowpane were a drumbeat, urging him on. They said to him "What are you waiting for; she wants you now, she wants you naked now!"

"She does, doesn't she?" he said, sotto voce. He got up from the chair, stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He stepped on the back of his left sneaker with his right and kicked it off, then did the same to his right, except that this time he used his stockinged left foot rather than his left sneaker, since he was no longer wearing it. He undid his belt too, muffling the sound of the double-D 'buckle' with his hand. She wanted him, he knew, but he didn't want her to hear him. He dropped his pants then, and his penis, in anticipation, tented his A-Team boxer shorts. He kept them on, just to leave something to her imagination.

He stepped around the low coffee table covered with an odd assortment of Financial Times, Glamour and some Italian photography magazines whose titles he couldn't pronounce, but, being European, had many pages of beautiful, naked women in them, which is why he enjoyed them so much. The lights were low in this part of the room, coming primarily from underneath the green-tinted shades of the accountant's lamps scattered around.

Her back was turned to him as he approached; she was holding a large book in her hands, flipping through to see whether it held anything that she might be able to use in her paper, due Wednesday next. She was wearing a loose, blousey top that came down to her lower back, but left ~2 inches of skin visible 'tween it and the waistband of her blue, college-logo sweatpants. It was blousey, as I said, so in addition to the space between where it ended and her sweatpants began, there was also a good amount of space between it's lower, hemmed edge and her body. The light, coming from high above, left her skin in shadow there. It was hot in the room, though, and beads of sweat trickled down her sides; she chose the blouse because it let the air circulate a bit underneath. She also liked the way that it brushed her nipples when she walked; t-shirts didn't rub her the right way for that - she had to use her hands to get the same effect with a t-shirt.

She didn't hear him approach, being absorbed as she was; he was stealthy. For anyone looking his way, however, 'stealthy' would not have been the word they would have chosen; his erection precluded that. It was quite prominent now, and the head of his penis now peeked out through the front of his shorts.

She sensed someone was there, and figured it was probably him, but she kept her back turned. This proved opportune; with her back still to him, he was able to slip his hands in under her top and up, not touching her skin or attracting her notice until they reached her breasts, cupping them gently and brushing her areola. She gasped, but it felt so good that she didn't pull away. Her nipples extended outwards, and she felt a thrill run through her body, and little electric pulses run across the tops of her buttocks. Without saying a word, she put the book haphazardly back on the bookshelf, and acting on the spur of the moment, grabbed the lower edge of her blouse with crossed arms and pulled it over her head, leaving her top completely bare. She dropped her arms and reached behind her, stopping when she touched the loose cotton of his shorts. Her excitement increased then, and she could feel her sex respond. She didn't know who it was, but she wanted him.

She worked her fingers up a bit, which was not easy since they were behind her, remember? When they reached the waistband, she slipped her hands inside, with her thumbs outside, and pushed down; to get more leverage, she stepped back towards him, her back pressing up against his smooth, hairless chest. When his penis cleared the waistband, it snapped back up and thwapped her left butt cheek. She gasped (again), and in one deft move turned to her left, releasing his boxers with her right hand as she did so, and dropped down to a crouch, pulling his shorts to the floor and holding them there while he stepped out. He was now completely naked, standing over her with a prominent boner and an expression half-shocked, half-exultant on his face.

She stood up, slowly, trailing her nipples up his belly and letting his penis trail down hers; she cupped his balls in her right hand and ran the fingers of her left lightly along the underside of his penis.

She looked him in the face for the first time since he'd approached, now, and said 'Is this normally how you approach girls in the library?' She gave his penis a gentle squeeze, and watched his face as he leaned forward to kiss her breasts.

quote:

She looked him in the face for the first time since he'd approached, now, and said 'Is this normally how you approach girls in the library?' She gave his penis a gentle squeeze, and watched his face as he leaned forward to kiss her breasts.

aha! *cringe*

quote:

Originally posted by WorldLeaderPretend:

quote:

She looked him in the face for the first time since he'd approached, now, and said 'Is this normally how you approach girls in the library?' She gave his penis a gentle squeeze, and watched his face as he leaned forward to kiss her breasts.

aha! *cringe*

So it was you!

quote:

Originally posted by WorldLeaderPretend:
his head would pitch and reel, as though concussed. And as in the case of a real concussion, he would vomit a few hours later.

Eww! I didn't realise romance could be that unhealthy!

quote:

Originally posted by duncan s.:
She looked him in the face for the first time since he'd approached, now, and said 'Is this normally how you approach girls in the library?' She gave his penis a gentle squeeze, and watched his face as he leaned forward to kiss her breasts.

*giggling*
*imagines*
*more giggling*

Imagine her surprise when she saw Alessandro again this very evening at Helen's party! "Ciao, bella ragazza", his voice caressed her ears, rough and manly with the sound of 1000 cigarettes too many. Honey felt her knees tremble and shivers run down her spine. She started up and was halted his magnetic, compelling gaze. Soon Honey was hopelessly lost in the deep purple wells of his eyes.

quote:

Originally posted by His Noodle Girl:
Soon Honey was hopelessly lost in the deep purple wells of his eyes.

"Purple ... weird." she thought, but she couldn't resist. Not even the fact that he had three eyewells fully registered to her then; she only knew that she'd never felt this way before towards any man, whether human or otherwise.

I do hope you realise that, terrible as you all are, you are still doing better than Jackie Collins.

Gah!
*must try harder*

quote:

Originally posted by Hive:
I do hope you realise that, terrible as you all are, you are still doing better than Jackie Collins.

Jackie suffers from a truly overactive imagination; as a teen, she realized that she could, and did, reach orgasm simply by thinking about sex. Thrilling as it was, in so many ways, Jackie eventually found it debilitating; whenever her mind wandered in class, she'd snap out of it and see her classmates staring over at her.

Her writing style is an adaptive response; if she writes too closely or accurately about sex, it just goes downhill from there.

I have done a MAGNIFICENT DEED for the benefit of humanity - I have typed out the bit from the BBC site from her latest book. This is what you have to beat for banality:

'Slowly he began peeling down the straps of her while silk camisole, exposing her breasts. "God, you're beautiful", he marvelled, caressing her nipples with a great deal of expertise. The sensation of Don touching her was taking her breath away - she'd only slept with two men, Greg and Marlon, and neither of them had been into foreplay. She had not expected it to feel this heady and exciting. Waves of desire overwhelmed her as she feverishly began unbuttoning his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against hers. "Hey, c'mon, slow down" he commanded, gripping her wrists, "I'm the guy here, remember?" She was used to calling the shots with Marlon, and she wasn't prepared to be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing. And Don, knew, all right. His touch sent shivers of ecstacy throughout her entire body. His practiced hands started moving down her waist, then they began undoing the zipper on her tight silk pants.'

In the interview, Collins describes this as the best sex scene she's ever written, bless her.

Kathleen's green eyes flashed in anger. "How dare you speak to me that way?" She turned on her heel, her plaid day dress flouncing out behind her, and made quick pace for the chamber door.
Taking two steps, Brock reached out, grabbed her elbow, and spun Kathleen to face him. Though his face was flushed from racing to stop her, his twinkling blue eyes had lost none of their gentle playfulness. "I dare as a satellite dares circle the earth. I dare as the moon dares reflect the sunlight."
"Oh, Brock," Kathleen swooned momentarily, then shook her head to compose herself, "these things you say. You expect me to believe that you, a professional gigolo, could ever be loyal to just one woman? You know the type of woman I am. I want to give myself totally to one deserving man. And yet you torment me so with your pretty, deceiving words?"
Brock's face, the face of a spoiled adonis used to getting his way, showed true shock and surprise. He had never confessed his vocation to Kathleen and could only imagine the vengeful ex-client who whispered this poison into his beloveds ear. Sadness filled his ocean blue eyes, and for a moment he looked like the lost boy he truly was.
"Its true, Kathleen. I was a gigolo. I earned my money by making love. I dropped out of med school to be an escort to lonely older women. And you know what else, Kathleen?" Brock leaned in close to Kathleen's face, his sweet hot breath against the roses of her flushed cheeks, "I would do it again because all that I have learned, all of the techniques and skills, I devote them all to YOU."
Kathleen's eyes fluttered as her knees went weak. She began to faint but Brock's strong arms circled her waist, holding her to him he guided her to the velvet chaise.
"B-Brock," sighed Kathleen as he gently cradled her face in his hands, "if only that were true. I want so very badly, so burningly do I want to believe you."
"Kathleen, my love, you can believe this." Brock pulls Kathleen to him and their mouths meet in an explosion of passion. Clothing that was well-fitted moments before strain to burst and be rent asunder as the two are flooded with eros. Somewhere a scientist notes a violent increase in solar flares and postulates madly on their cause, but in Kathleen's parlor the cause is standing naked at the foot of the chaise, gazing down at his Venus.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: mudpuppy,

Very nice unspeakably bad effective touch with the scientist!

quote:

Originally posted by Hive:
Very nice unspeakably bad effective touch with the scientist!

*hee hee hee, muaha!*

I totally jacked off to this thread.

(Apologies to Trogdor)

quote:

Originally posted by digitalprimate:

(Apologies to Trogdor herr kuchen )

Fixed that for you.

Much appreciated.

Quite right. Trogdor swoons at the bubbling, bursting cleavage of financial abyss.

quote:

DOW closes down 504.48 Oh, their beautiful, effeminate stock trader tears! I drink their tears and I become strong. I drink their tears and I become invincible! My dick's so hard I could pull an engine with it.

Blanche stood nervous in the middle of her bedroom, for the first time in so many years and in so many encounters completely perplexed and uncertain. Would this new paramour be able to fulfill her desires as she hoped? Blanche hoped so from the tips of her French manicured toes all they way up her supple calves and generous hips, past the curve of her bosom and into the burning, yearning deep within her chest that fairly made her plain but sensible brown hair ignite with furious passion.

She trembled as her new lover moved through the bathroom that adjoined her suite, preparing for their rendezvous. The bedroom was dark, lit only by the light that passed dimly under the crack of the bathroom door and soon that was gone. Blanche couldn't help herself - she started as the room was plunged into darkness.

The bathroom door opened and her lover crept in, silent as a prowling panther.

"Is that you?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't reveal the depth of her need to be touched, to be loved, to be held and filled and utterly satisfied.

"Yes," came the voice from behind her. "Miss Devereaux, why did we wait so long?" One of the hands attached to the part of the lover that had done the speaking wrapped around Blanche's waist while the other crept up over her supple breast and gentle squeezed.

"Oh, Dorothy, I don't know. I . . . I don't know."