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The following entries can be found on the first page
The TSTL Story by author Lynne Connolly (et al)
Dark Parody by Charity J
The Debut Author by Maxine Misso
The Audition by Rachel Potter
A Ballroom Encounter by (author) Alissa and Tessa Baxter
The following entries can be found on this page
A Day in the Life of Anita Blake, Vampire Humper by Holly
Dear Author by Marguerite Kraft
Once a Ho by Blythe Barnhill
Pandora's Button by Nancy Carrigan
Across the Room by Margaret Murray-Evans
The following entries can be found on the third page
The Virgin Widow Sex Kitten by Cheryl Sneed
Love's Burning Itch by Jenny Evans
The Pitch by author Amanda Grange
The Further Annotations of Lady Disallclown by Bina

 

An homage to LKH's Cerulean Sins as written by Holly:

A Day in the Life of Anita Blake, Vampire Humper

It was Jason's turn to spend the night with me. He said something about drawing the short straw. Guess that's how they determine the winner. I took a shower so that I could be fresh for him. Of course, it took 3 hours as I kept getting distracted by the soap on a rope and the way the water spilled across my skin. As I walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, I spotted Jason. He must have let himself in through the revolving door I had installed last week.

As I looked at him I could feel the passion of the ardeur spill over my body. I dropped the towel. As it spilled from my shoulders, I could see Jason's desire rising up to meet my own. I could see the desire spilling over his boyish face. I started crawling across the floor toward him, which excited him so that he had 12 orgasms before I could even reach him. Finally I was kneeling in front of him. Since I knew he was into the kinky stuff, I started to suck his big toe. The ardeur became almost overwhelming as it crashed and spilled all over my entire being. Who knew that toe jam could be so sexy? My beast roiled within me, his beast roiled within him. As our eyes met, we both knew it was mating season.

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I could stand it no longer. I told him to take me, take me as I had never been took before. He carried me over to the bed where we made red hot monkey love all night long, until he pleaded for mercy and lapsed into unconsciousness. I knew it was the power of my allure that made him comatose now. I must have really been incredible! We slept the sleep of the tired and satiated. When I awoke in the morning, I saw him lying beside me, his hair spilling across the pillowcase. Once again the ardeur began to rise, filling me, spilling me with uncontrollable urges. I ran my hand across the smoothness of his chest. He awoke and told me that he was too sore from our hot monkey love the night before and would be unable to perform. I glanced down at his crotch. His member was all red, and chafed and .swollen. I knew I could wait no longer, and I told him what he needed was some sexual healing.

He protested, but I could tell what he really wanted. As I leaned over his crotch my hair spilled onto his pubic area. He gasped and let out a groan. Then my lips spilled over his huge, swollen organ. Then my drool spilled onto him, as drool is want to do. As I took the fullness of him into my mouth, he let out a scream. He insisted that it wasn't a scream of pleasure, but I knew he was just being coy. I could tell how much he was enjoying it by the way his eyes were rolling back into his head. I took him again and again, until I ran out of time. I knew I needed to leave him as I would barely have time to get to work without being late. Well, maybe I would have time to drop by Micah's place for 5 or 6 quickies first. I told Jason I had to leave. He was so upset by my departure that he rolled himself into a ball, and lay there crying and whimpering. I felt so powerful in that moment. I had been so good that I actually brought a man to tears! I knew I had reached a new height in my sexual expertise. As I said goodbye, I thought I heard him mumble something about ointment. I guess he wants to be prepared for our next encounter.

I stopped by Micah's place and was greeted at the door by his enormous member. Of course, Micah himself was still in the bedroom. So I yelled to him that I had arrived, and he replied, "Come". Those were exactly the words I longed to hear. I leapt upon his huge throbbing hunk of meat. I felt him enter me inch by inch. I could feel the hard fullness of him filling me, filling me to the brim, filling me as only a man the size of a minivan could. When it came time to leave, I tried to kiss him goodbye, but I couldn't reach his mouth with his enormous dick in the way.

When I got to work, Bert came into my office to chide me for being late. I could tell what he really wanted, the words he didn't dare to say out loud. So I told him that I felt we should really keep our relationship professional with him being my boss and all. His lips said no, but his eyes said yes as I could see what he really wanted was to take me and have sex like crazed weasels. He stomped out disgustedly. I knew he was disgusted with himself for having so little self control in my presence.

I received a call from Richard that morning telling me that I had given him an STD and should really see a doctor before spreading it to anyone else. So I made an appointment for the next week. I set aside a whole afternoon knowing that the doctor would undoubtedly want me just as much as every other man on the planet. I managed to make it through the day with only humping 3 customers and a zombie. It was a slow day at the office. (I know what you're thinking about the zombie, but I just couldn't help myself. The vacant stare from it's dead eyes was such a turn-on. Plus it was very good at following instructions) . I had a date with Jean Claude that evening after work. As I walked down to my car, I could have sworn I saw Damien, but he turned and ducked around the corner so fast, I couldn't be sure. That's been happening a lot lately. The guys must be planning some big surprise in my honor no doubt.

As I arrived at Jean Claude's residence, I saw that he had prepared a candlelight dinner for two. He normally can't eat regular food, but the power of my mere presence is enough to negate that little problem. We sat down at the carefully prepared table. I reached for my wine glass to make a toast to our eternal lust, but I accidentally knocked over the glass spilling its contents onto the table. Since I hate to see perfectly good wine go to waste, I started to lick and suck it up right off the table making loud slurping noises, which excited Jean Claude so much that he came 3 times. I rushed into his arms and felt our passion and desire start to overwhelm us. I heard him mumble something that sounded like, "Dammit Anita, you ruined my best tablecloth." I knew that I obviously misheard that and what he really said was, "Dammit Anita, I want to take you now, right here on the tablecloth." So I reached behind me to spill the dishes onto the floor. They landed with a loud crash that washed over us both. I paused as I reached toward the candlestick. It was so long, and red, and .waxy. It was an enormous candlestick, the biggest candlestick I had ever seen! I could tell by the way it flirtatiously flickered at me that it returned my passion. Sometimes a candlestick wants what a candlestick wants. As it's flame burned higher and higher, I brought myself back to the situation at hand. Obviously I must take care of Jean Claude first, since he did actually buy the food and wine and went to all the trouble of setting things up for me. It's never good to piss off a master vampire.

I took him by the hand and started leading him toward the bedroom. I noticed he had installed a brand new brass doorknob on his bedroom door. I could tell by its metallic gleam that it too wanted me. I felt it grow harder in my hard as I turned it to enter the room. I made a mental note to get back to doorknob later, and led Jean Claude to the bed. I rode him all night long. At daybreak, he said, "Not now, Anita, I'm about to turn into a corpse". As I felt the life force leaving his body a thought occurred to me. He's a corpse now, a.stiff.

 

Purple Prose as written by Marguerite Kraft:

Dear Author

January 12, 2002
Dear Author,

Thank you very much for your submission (scribbled in by hand: PAIN AND PLEASURE) to our new erotica line, HOT NIGHTS. Unfortunately, your work does not meet our needs at this time. Thanks for thinking of us!


March 2, 2002
Attn: Ms. Flame O'Malley
Dear Ms. O'Malley:

Thanks very much for the opportunity to reread your rewritten manuscript, PAIN AND PLEASURE. I admire your persistence and your willingness to refine your work. Your writing style is very clear, and your characters are quite endearing. Unfortunately, your love scenes simply aren't strong enough for our HOT NIGHTS line. There are only four love scenes in the novel, and they are all frankly too plain vanilla for this line. Sex scenes in ordinary, everyday settings such as beds simply don't titillate our readers enough. But I'm sure another publishing house will think differently. Best of luck finding a home for this!

Sincerely,
Emma Editor
PS- Excise the words "throbbing manhood" from your vocabulary. Please.


May 15, 2002
Dear Ms. O'Malley,

Thanks for giving me another opportunity to look at your further rewrites to PAIN AND PLEASURE. Although I deeply appreciate the fact that you removed all references to throbbing manhoods, as you pointed out in your cover letter, I still feel that your writing suffers from an overreliance on euphemism. A good example of this problem is the scene in which the hero thrusts his "love banana" into the heroine's "warm melted marshmallow," or the scene with the hero's "massive stone pestle grinding relentlessly" into the heroine's "wet, soft mortar." Our readers prefer blunt, contemporary language. If you'll rewrite, I'd be willing to take another look.

Sincerely,
Emma Editor


July 23, 2002
Dear Flame,

Thanks for letting me look over your rewrites again. PAIN AND PLEASURE is much improved, thanks to the hard work you've put into it. However, I continue to have problems with some of your metaphors. The depiction of the hero's penis as a rigid wooden spoon stirring the heroine's "creamy alfredo sauce," while vivid, doesn't work for me. The scene in which the heroine experiences orgasm as "a wondrous sparkling display of blue, red, and gold fireworks, shimmering against a glittering backdrop of silvery stars" may also be just a bit too overwrought. Feel free to send it in again when you've reworked it!

Sincerely,
Emma


September 8, 2002
Dear Flame,

Thanks for letting me take another look at your rewrites to PAIN AND PLEASURE. Your love scenes are much improved. I was most impressed by the juxtaposition of Tantric techniques and yoga positions, although the vibrator, dildo, and inflatable doll certainly added a great deal to the love story as well. The sexy scene where the hero was handcuffed to a Dumpster vividly underscored the emotional attachment between your hero and heroine and was incredibly moving. I'd like to see still more love scenes, however, as there are still only ten. If you could heat up the book some more, I'd be happy to take another look.

Sincerely,
Emma


November 19, 2002
Flame-

Wow! Your revisions to PAIN AND PLEASURE are simply incredible. From the very beginning of the book your hero and heroine seem inexhaustibly inventive. The love scene on top of Mount Rushmore was terrific. I've never before imagined a kiwi fruit being used in such a fashion, but now I'm sure I'll never eat another one without thinking of your book. And the surprising use of 5W30 motor oil made the scene even hotter!

Unfortunately, although your sex scenes are remarkable, the plot seems to have faltered a bit. I wonder if you'd be willing to rewrite so that the reader gets a stronger sense of the love between your hero and heroine. There is too much sex here, and not enough emotion. You've written fourteen sex scenes, which seems like overkill in a book of this length. Also, your language is a little too blunt. It isn't necessary to be crude to be sexy-- in fact, our readers prefer euphemism to excessively blunt language. Perhaps if you were to remove a few of the sex scenes and add some euphemisms, the book would be stronger.

I'd be happy to look at your revisions.

Emma


January 12, 2003
Dear Author,

Thank you very much for your submission (scribbled in by hand: PAIN AND PLEASURE) to our new erotica line, HOT NIGHTS. Unfortunately, we are no longer publishing this particular line. Thank you for thinking of us!

 

Purple Prose as written by Blythe Barnhill in homage to Mary Balogh:

Once a Ho

Amelia trembled as she approached the minister and saw Roderick waiting for her, love shining in his eyes. She knew she loved him, and if she could just manage to get through this ceremony, she could explain the truth. But when the minister said the fatal words, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace," she knew she just couldn't go through with it.

"Roddy," she whispered brokenly, "I can't marry you. I don't deserve you. You must find someone better."

"But, Amelia -"

"I'm not a virgin!" The words echoed through the church, and Roderick's face crumpled in pain and disbelief.

"I'm so sorry, Roddy. I didn't have a choice."

Roderick's rage was instantaneous. "Someone forced you? Who is the bastard? I'll kill him!"

"Oh Roddy, you can't do that. He didn't force me exactly. It was just.well, Papa's debts.I'm sorry. We were out of money and I had to sell myself. It was j-just the one time!" She sobbed.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry I didn't realize your father was so-but wait? When did this happen?"

"T-Tuesday!" Amelia wailed.

"But Amelia," Roderick said, "I was only gone for a fortnight. I was coming home Thursday. I could have given you the money then."

"Oh, I couldn't have asked you, Roddy. It would have been so dishonorable. Papa's debts-"

Amelia's father, Sir Stepplethwaite, came forward. "Amelia, what on earth are you talking of? I didn't have any debts. And I was coming home Thursday!"

"Papa," Amelia sniffed, "It was the butcher. You owed him f-five p-pounds. There wasn't any money, we were out of bacon, and I'd spent my quarterly allowance. And the s-servants had to be paid."

"Beggin' you pardon, miss, but we're paid on Thursdays," supplied a housemaid. "But if it came to that, we'd work for free. We've loved you since you were a sweet, tender-hearted girl. We would've waited."

Sir Stepplethwaite and Roderick turned in unison to the butcher. "Ted Dobson!" bellowed Sir Stepplethwaite, "How could you frighten my daughter? Haven't I always paid my bills on time? Were you the vile cad who traded Amelia's maidenhead for a rasher of bacon?"

"I'll kill you!" shouted Roderirck.

"It wasn't me!" squealed a panicked Ted. "I told her she could pay me back any time! I said Thursday or Friday would be fine. She, uh, kinda scared me when she knocked on my door with the money at 10:30 Tuesday night. And I never touched her, sir, I swear."

"I was coming home Thursday," muttered Roderick.

"She didn't have to pay me yet," said the housemaid.

"And I think we still had some bacon in the smokehouse, for all that, the poor sweet lamb," sighed the cook.

"Argh!" Roderick paced the length of the church, "If Ted didn't have her, who did? Who took advantage of Amelia's stupidi--, er, innocence?"

The local dancing master timidly raised his hand. "Look, sir, I didn't really know her that well, but she said she needed five pounds and was prepared to make 'the ultimate sacrifice.' I offered to just give her the money, but-"

"Oh Roddy, don't you see?" Amelia pleaded. "It would have been dishonorable. I had no choice! The butcher-"

"I. Was. Coming. Home. THURSDAY!" said Roddy through clenched teeth.

"She didn't have to pay me yet," the housemaid and butcher chorused in unison.

"I really don't think we were out of bacon, actually," said the cook.

"I have never been in debt in my life, and I was coming home Thursday," sneered Sir Stepplethwaite.

"Roderick, Papa, I'm sorry," Amelia sniffed. "I thought I had no choice, you see. Roderick, you must find a wife more worthy of you."

Roderick's fist hit the pulpit with a resounding crash. "I was fucking coming home THURSDAY!"

"I'm sorry, Roddy. I really thought it couldn't wait. You should find someone else to marry, someone more worthy." Amelia gazed at him fearfully, her eyes limpid blue pools of anguish.

Privately, Roddy was inclined to agree. Though Amelia was technically a diamond of the first water, he'd known since he first started courting her that she wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Fortunately, her ample bosom and sweet, self-sacrificing nature usually made up for the fact that she was two bays short of a matched pair. Still, he thought with a pang of Melissande, his former mistress, who not only gave the world's best blow jobs, but was completely conversant in enlightenment thinkers. "Say, Amelia," he asked, "Do you know who Voltaire is?

Amelia concentrated, and a hush fell over the assembled guests, who could almost smell the wood burning. "A-a-a mantua maker?" she supplied hopefully.

Roddy winced. Well, clearly someone had to take care of this girl and keep her away from pointy objects and complicated machinery. Or, he thought darkly, her dangerous propensity to prostitute herself whenever there was a perceived shortage in the pantry. Surely the women at the lower end of the intelligence bell curve deserved love too, and he was a little sick of bluestockings anyway. And no one could deny she had a self-sacrificing nature, whereas Melissande was really just a mercenary slut.

"Honey, it's okay," he said gently. "We all make stupid mistakes sometimes. Well, okay, maybe not this stupid, but you meant well."

He was rewarded with a watery smile. "Oh thank you, Roddy! I swear I'll never do anything so stupid again." As they finished the ceremony and exited the church to the enthusiastic accolades of the townspeople, Amanda winced as she cut her foot on a rock. Roderick looked down and noticed she'd forgotten to wear her shoes. Again. Well, Amelia might be too stupid to live, but with him by her side she'd probably make it for an extra ten years, at least. Purple Prose as written by Nancy Carrigan in homage to Julie Kenner:

Pandora's Button

As a god, Aries knew that he could protect the humans. The problem was he didn't want to. Well, he wanted to protect one human, but that was just so he could keep her naked and in his bed. But if he had to protect all the other humans too, he wasn't sure if sex with her was worth the effort.

"Aries", his pet turtle, Rufus, called from his tank.

"Hummm?"

"Aries! You must take the quest that the Elder's have set for you! All of MANkind depends on you finding Pandora's Button!"

Now, when Rufus put it THAT way, maybe this little quest was worth it.

Pandora Tightbox was bored. Another day just like all the rest. What she wouldn't give for a change. Any change. Suddenly, she felt a tingle start climbing up her spine. Wait, that tingle started in the front! From the lowest button on her jeans! The one that always gave her a shiver when she buttoned her jeans up. For weeks now, she had been trying to figure out why the fourth button gave her an almost orgasmic feeling. She hadn't yet tried rubbing the button, although she'd been thinking about it a lot lately.

Since she was home and bored, it was time to test out that button. Slowly, her fingers moved to her jean buttons. First button opened. nothing. Second button opened. nada. Third button opened. zip. Fourth button. Holy Hannah!

With a gasp, Pandora threw herself down onto the couch, never taking her fingers off of her fourth button.

Watching her from the corner of her living room was an invisible Aries. He had been trying to figure out how to get Pandora's Button without her knowing. But, it seems he was too late. With a sigh, he moved closer to watch Pandora. With any luck, she'll never figure out how it works, he thought.

Pandora continued to stroke her button. The feelings were more intense than anything she'd ever felt before. Writhing and bathed in sweat, she yearned for something. then suddenly, suddenly, there it was. "Ah! Ah!" she moaned.

Damn, thought Aries. If this gets out, women everywhere will figure out their own buttons, and then where will that get us men? I must quickly remove the memory of this and replace it with one of me giving her this pleasure.

Pandora sat up and looked around her living room. She sensed that someone was there, well, actually, she smelled something. something bad. Maybe, wet leather? No, no, it's worse than that. B.O. It's B.O. There's something that smells like B.O. in my house!

Leaping from the couch, Pandora ran to the door, only to run smack dab into that B.O. smell. Suddenly right in front of her was a man, and one that smelled. But, oh goodness, he was gorgeous. Well, gorgeous and smelly. But, how often did she get gorgeous men in her house. As she was pondering what to do, Aires grabbed her and held her tight to his body.

"I am Aries. I am here to give you pleasure. More pleasure than you will ever know".

"Ah, right, ah, Aries? Um, listen, you are gorgeous, but you smell. Plus, there's this whole button theory I need to work on."

"Smell? Woman, I am Aries, a Greek God. Every woman wants me! My job is to pleasure you, but I also do it because I want you."

"Um, sure, whatever there, Archie. I mean Aries. Listen, I need to make a call. My friend Meghan had this weird feeling about her button the other day and I need to tell her what I found out. So, if you could just, like, go back to Greece or wherever, that'd be great".

Aries, because he was not wanted by Pandora and so failed his job, was turned into stone, right in her living room. Pandora, pausing to pat her new stone statute on the butt, picked up the phone to call her friend Meghan; they had a lot to talk about! This whole button thing was unbelievable. Excited as she was, Pandora wondered how long it would take for the B.O. smell to leave her small house.

 

Purple Prose as written by Margaret Murray-Evans:

Across the Room

Across the room they eyed each other. Blue eyes stared at brown. .. or were they black, or were they green? It was hard to tell without her glasses. So she decided to put them on. Ah! That's more like it! He really was amazing to look at. Short and dumpy with a small tuft of hair he had allowed to grow long enough to tie with a black ribbon. He wore a puce green jacket with a yellow shirt. His pants were navy blue. His neckcloth was tied so tightly, you could tell he could barely breath. He made her heart sing. The quizzing glass over one eye was all the thing. It made his one eye so much larger than the rest. Why, the one larger eye was brown, but the smaller eye was black. She was startled when someone came up from her blind side. He was tall and very muscular, with a strong handsome face. He asked her to dance, but she would have nothing to do with him. So she turned her head to give him the cut direct. She ached to gaze back at her beloved (already she thought of him this way) across the crowded room. But the handsome faced rogue (weren't the handsome ones always a rogue) would not let her turn away. Instead he parked himself in front of her and grabbed her around the waist and kissed her in front of everyone in the assembly. He kissed her till she lost her breath. He kissed her till she felt his member swell and swell and swell . Until he jerked and jerked and jerked...and she felt her dress grow wet. Ha! How disgusting she though as he let her go. She walked off with the smell of sex on her dress to her true love...who smelled more and more of onions and garlic as she walked across the room.

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