Oh God, she came

Posted by andrea - December 28th, 2006

They can’t be serious. Surely these dreadful (awful, hideous, there I go writing like a pr0n-ographer!) passages weren’t written for any other reason but to win this silly prize. I can’t believe that someone sweated these out and really, really meant them to be considered serious, important prose:

Take oaf yir clathes then, let me see the goods, Mary rasped in lecherous cheer.

she could hear herself panting now, like a dog, but she didn’t care.

she trembled and clung on to him and mewled with pleasure in his ear.


she called out to God and convulsed with each slow stroke, her head thrown back and her eyelids aflutter


He slid a hand beneath her arse

Thud, went the romance.

The first half-inch was cold, and moist only with brine, and he
encountered stiff resistance which, while not without appeal, made him
fear for a moment that he might do her an injury if he pressed on with
excess zeal.

Yeah, like that.

To say nothing of the dog. (No, you must read.)
(Via Kathy Shaidle, who is not drunk, but should be. If only it were Friday night, I’d be tying one on right now. Oh, not like that!)


  1. God, those are terrible. You’d have to be drunk to like them.

    Comment by The_Real_JeffS - December 28, 2006 10:02 pm

  2. I think they’re meant to be spoofs - this is the Bulwer-Lytton contest of porn. Though come to think of it there’s no reason they couldn’t be submitted to Bulwer-Lytton directly.

    Comment by StillAnneB - December 29, 2006 6:03 pm

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