BodiceRipping101: A Writers' Challenge

[Maid of Marvels]

While many of you know about the Bullwer-Lytton Award, a world famous literary contest for bad opening paragraphs, I wonder how many of us are aware that there is a similarly dubious tribute bestowed on authors by "Literary Review" entitled the Bad Sex in Fiction Award.

Whether you call this assemblage of evocative adjectives, sensuous adverbs, ornate and over-extravagantly exaggerated writing purple prose, bodice ripping, or any other number of epithets - a bad sex theme by any name remains the same.

Are you getting the idea?

The challenge, offered by myself and the nefarious chris2c4u (whose deliciously insistent poking and prodding drove us to share this idea), is to write a scene to be continued as a chain story which might be worthy of the aforementioned award.

So... in the meantime...

Take me! Take me now! I spend! I spend!!

And while I"m doing that, please feel free to jump in and well... Have fun.

An invitation
from
a couple who can't help it if they are...
trembling with anticipation,
Maid and Chris ​

 

[chris2c4u]

Basil sat upon the cool cotton sheets and looked down upon her.

"Ah, Elizabeth," he breathed as he looked upon her pale skin in the moonlight. "At last we can be together!" His hands rested upon the orbs of her bosom and he heard her whimper. He shivered.

"Oh, Sir Basil," she simpered, covering his manly hands with her own dainty fingers. Her body undulated in sheer pleasure. It reminded Sir Basil Crouton of the walk they had taken along the harbour wall that afternoon as the simple peasant fisher-folk unloaded their catch.

"Your body," he breathed, "it is so reminiscent of the makerel cast so carelessly from the nets this afternoon. The way the moonlight catches your every lithe curve as you wriggle so delightfully."

His nostrils flared as he gazed upon his catch, as he considered how he would play with his little fish, Elizabeth Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch).

He lifted his hands to his shirt and while his eyes smouldered he undid the buttons and bared his chest to her large, moon-filled eyes.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elizabeth's bosoms heaved, threatening to erupt from within the fine silk confines of her gown; a striking contrast to the sheets, which were Egyptian cotton (244 count). "Sir Basil," she gasped breathlessly as the washboard-like ripples of his manly chest came into view.

"Just call me... Sir," he murmured, his eyes, dark as unlit coal, burning her flesh.

"I am a maiden," she said, replacing her small, elegant fingers over his strong. sturdy hand as her eyes fell lower, fascinated by the growing bulge in his trousers as her heart beat in rhythm with the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room.

 

[chris2c4u]

"My darling," he breathed huskily as he slid against her body. His mouth claimed her virgin lips and his hands grasped the thin fabric that kept him from his first desires.

Effortlessly, Sir Basil tore the thin fabric from her heaving breasts and felt her body rippling beneath him like a primal force, a wave out deep upon an amethyst ocean.

Effortlessly, his trousers fell off.

His hands stroked her tresses as he felt her tremble.

"Fear not my sweet," his deep manly voice reassured her. "I will be gentle."

He lay beside her and caressed the rising peaks of her nipples.

 

[Steiner]

((Chris, you win a prize for "Effortlessly his trousers fell off" - I don't know why, but that line made me snork out loud. This is a great thread!))

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Sir Basil Crouton, the one man Elizabeth had desired above all others for the past day and a half, pressed against her lithe frame, a protuberance, comparable in size with the newly-picked aubergine from her garden, pressing against her silk, petticoated and pantaloon covered thighs. Her womanhood was damp, dewy as the early morning before the sun had risen fully to dry it all away and her skin - her skin quivered as though covered with an army of lice, marching, marching across the vast expanse of the ivory white terrain.

She took a deep breath, her fingers swirling through his hair as she pulled him closer. 'Twas heavenly, she thought, as he suckled on the rigid, red-as-wine corks that were her nipples.

Anyone care to play? No rules - Poor, virginal Elizabeth Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch) must be relieved of her maidenly status by the manly Sir Basil Crouton.

 

[OnHarry]

Suddenly, as suddenly as the death of a sudden nature might take one suddenly, the door flew open. It crashed against the wall scarring forever the William Morris wallpaper, purchsed for a princly sum at a small cavernous establishment in the west end of eastern London.

"Egads sir, what is the meaning of this," came a deep manly voice intoned in a timbre that signifyed one to whom authority was no stranger.

Sir Basil standing away from the bed, cooly bent over at the waist, and retrieving a cheroot and match from the neatly rumpled pile that was his trousers, he said cooly, while striking the match against the callouses on Elizebeth's left foot, as cooly as a cucumber sandwich served on a bank holiday in the summer at a country estate, "I should have thought that was perfectly obvious old boy."

"Daddy," said Elizebeth in a petulant tone that brooked no answer,"What are you doing here?"

 

[VickyCummings]

(So is the purpose for this is to make a bad story, thus being extremly funny and off wthe wall in the process?)

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Hi, Vicky!

Truth is, Chris and I were discussing what is called "purple prose" and he said it might be fun to write that way - everything overly exaggerated. In short (or long) what happened is that I went looking for an exact definition of purple prose and came across Literary Review's Bad Sex in Fiction Award which just recently gave honors for the 14th year.

*taking a breath*

The result is this thread -- a chain story where the sex will be totally exaggerated and, believe it or not, what we've written so far is pretty good compared to what we read.

I was thinking that once Elizabeth Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch) loses her virginity we might move on to yet another scenario if everyone who joins in would like. Something set in modern times perhaps?

It's just meant to be fun. I hope you and many others will take your hand to... erm... well, write a line or two?

PS It's not funny, it's HAWT!!

 

[chris2c4u]

Sir Basil smiled at Lord Eddington Chumley Smithe Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch) and strolled over.

"Look old chap, as we're both members of the same club, tell you what, why not draw up a chair and keep an eye on things. I must warn you though - things may get exceedingly flowery tinged with purple."

Having addressed His Grace, Sir Basil returned like a cobra to the body of his beloved Lady Elizabeth. As if in some primeval mating dance between the reptilians, Crouton's tongue shot from his lips and waggled, before he dived towards his target.

The firm, gleaming melon that was her Ladyship's left mammary was subjected toa lashing from Sir Basil's oral muscle. Almost prehensile, the organ lapped and tweaked the full ripe bud, tasting the succulent melon even as he transferred his lapping to the other delicious cantaloupe.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Sweet heavens!" Elizabeth gasped, wondering if Basil was related to William F. Buckley, though it was images of men -- naked men, naked men with clubs, naked men with big, jutting clubs -- that colored her imagination and made her blood boil as his tumescent organ pressed against her.

"I swoon... I... " her heaving beasts ached, but it was her womanhood that weeped for attention.

 

[chris2c4u]

"Yes my dear," the voice of Sir Basil rumbled up from deep within his chest.

"Now, you are about to become a woman," he said, smiling Buddha like, serene in his expert ability to steal away her bud while giving her exquisite sensations.

With a snort that reminded Lady Elizabeth of Thrust, the stallion at the ancestral home of the Shapely-Sterne's (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch), Sir Basil Crouton raised himself above her, a towering mass of muscle. She looked into the gleaming fires of his eyes as he covered her body.

"Now, my dear..." his head moved up and down as if bobbing for apples, again tasting the sweetness of her ripe fruits and his love tube rubbed against her tunnel of delights.

"Now!" He said and his hips twitched, burying the first half inch of his engorged member between her sweet, pink folds.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elizabeth cried out, her fingernails clutching at the rippling muscles of Basil's firm, smooth back as his plenipotentiary instrument gained entrance to her passion-moistened depths, and, with each pumping caress of his manhood, he filled her completely.

Lightning bolts of fulfillment made her entire body judder as love's sweet lava flowed. Elizabeth shrilled his name: "Mellllllllors! I... spend!!"

 

[chris2c4u]

Sir Basil buried his member up to the hilt, spearing the young, chaste virgin on his rod of desire.

He felt her body clamp upon his intrusion with avengence and growled, happy in the thought he had captured her innocence and left her a mature woman.

"Now, now, my dear, are you ready?"

His hips pumped like pistons as he drove his iron-hard rod insto her ensheathing cylinder.

"Yes! Yes! I am relieved!!"

The hot flood filled the tightness his maleness inhabited. He saw her eyes turn up into her skull as she fluttered beneath him, then writhed and twitched, like a leaf tossed upon an autumnal storm.

Slowly he let her fall to earth, his lips kissing gently at her now violated neck...

He frowned.

He pushed himself up on his beefy arms.

"MELLORS!?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

And so it goes... Elizabeth Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch) is now a WOMAN (in every sense of the word) and Sir Basil Crouton (after three days of non-stop shagging) is a mere shadowy prune of his former self.

Daddy has gone downstairs in search of Fifi the maid and the cook (and maybe the butler) and all is right with the world.

FIN​

 

[chris2c4u]

Not so fast, my fishy friend...less of the FIN...

Perhaps someone else wants to start a purple patch? Watch a tumescent organ grow over a quivering slip of a girl?

Or...or...over to any poster...Love missiles at the ready...go for it...man or woman...post away - see who tags along! Doesn't have to follow on from the last one.

 

[newlysubbed]

a new one

Amy is drunk, as in her blood in more likely alcohol then blood right now. She just had sex, she not sure which holes were used or anything. With a guy any guy, she didnt care she was so horny, she almost fucked her self in the living room.

Now she sits up, her head spins, like the wheels on the bus, her DDD tits gigleing like jello. She cant find any of her clothes, but she is a goddess now that she has been fucked by god, so she doesnt need them.

She slowly stands up her body still weaving like a flag on a breeze day. She slowly, one small elegant foot fall at a time, walks like she is on a cloud. She slowly like an actor makeing a great entrance opens the door to the living room of the frat house. There at least 15 guys in that room alone, they range from small to large and every thing in between.

Amy's entrance has caught every eye. Her body is on full and open display. From her black waist length hair, to her tiny waist, to her green eyes and her giggle DDD tits.

She put her hand on the nearest guy, her head bobbing and rolling her eyes open but not really truly aware of what is going on,"what the fack did you do with my drinky iz thisty, so thirsty i could drink a river." She leans to ward the drink in his other hand. smelling it licking her lips.

----
this story if any on choose to continue it would be done when she is out cold in a bed.

Hope this is sort of what you wanted. Its really not my style.

 

[chris2c4u]

Steve, the hardheaded CEO sat at the head of the boardroom table. No one could know of his interest in long walks barefoot along the beach and love of romantic restaurants. Unless you read his profile in the online dating site.

Sally, the feisty go-getting girl, making her way in the corporate jungle was ready to give her presentation to the board for the latest sales figures. Men steered clear of her because she was obviously a maneater. Except when she got online at home and was a pussy cat.

Steve eyed the leggy woman, his nostrils flaring at the sight of someone in a skirt that didnt flap like a black veil around her ankles. This one was different, eh thought, straightening his tie and sitting up. Why hadn't he noticed her before? His heart began to dance and - there was a warmth in his loins.

 

[pen_an_dink]

I reached both fists down into my bulging dungarees. I hauled out my howitzer and proffered it fully erect, pulsing, throbbing, aching, longing for her gaze, her touch, her lips, ah, her lips. The angry head strained, glowing a roaring red and a petulant purple. My ‘cunt-stick’ bounced as if beating out the tempo to Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyries”. Her knees fairly buckled at the magnificence, the manliness, the monstrous girth and breadth of my hitherto concealed weapon of ass destruction. Laying the back of her forearm against her glistening brow she sank, overcome, to her curvaceous knees. Her cherubic face and cascading blonde ringlets now danced a mere feather’s breath from my God-given miracle of a masculine muff mauler.

“May I?” Her velveteen pouting lips both quivered and protruded sensually as she pleaded with me… Tentative… Aroused… A skitterish deer in the headlights of my lengthy love lantern. She reached for my rock-like rod and delicately placed her porcelain forefinger against the expanded length of my pussy-pounder.

Like a towering and terrible, freshly carved figure on Mount Rushmore, I spoke not a word. I merely thrust my athletic, testosterone packed thighs towards her Helenic face. This slight movement caused my honey-hammer to begin trembling, the ensuing quake caused her to sink still lower - down and down like a penitent yet pulchritudinous postulant. Now her bewitchingly languid blue eyes beheld my cum-filled thundering Viceroys.

“You May.” I deigned.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

looking forward to the victorious salvo...

Come on. You know you want to continue where Pen left off -- or is he just getting warmed up? *swoon*

 

[chris2c4u]

Sir Basil Crouton returned to the family seat after sojurning in Paris for a while to avoid the attentions of the legal representatives of the Shapely-Sterne's (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch) - some nonsense about paternity - and decided to look up Lady Julia Pynchon-Butts. He recalled her voluptuousness and his nostrils flared as he whinneyed like the well endowed prize stallion he was.

"Hello old thing," he called out gayly as he sauntered confidently up the steps of the ancestral pile of the Pynchon-Butts. His trouser snake was already wriggling in its confines at the sight of the prize filly and he knew the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt caught her eye.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

"Sir Basil, you wonderful, wonderful scoundrel"

Lady Julia Pynchon-Butts reclined on the divan, a gift from the Right (although never) Honourable Charles Shapely-Sterne (of the Surrey Shapely-Sternes, cadet branch).

Stretching her back her ample bosom barely covered by the red silk robe, the visible cleavage an enticing canyon.

"What can I possibly do for you Sir Basil?" Dainty fingers collecting yet another strawberry as her robe fell open, revealing her prize to the prying eyes of Sir Basil Crouton.

Lady Julia Pynchon-Butts bestowed her suitor with a smouldering gaze as she bit into the treat, the red juices spilling down on her milky-white chin.

"Do you like the robe Sir Basil? It belonged to Auntie Geraldine, I'm sure you've heard of her. The most famous courtesan in all of heathen India."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Winifred Pynchon-Butts, most often called Winnie, belonged to the horsey set, preferring cream colored jodhpurs which hid the splash marks she sometimes came across while tending the two-legged stallions and a burgundy waistcoat that appeared to be painted on her body, the velvet caressing the cantaloupe-sized globes that were her heaving beasts. Ahh... she was a vision indeed, the sort that made ones eyes water with delight. Okay, maybe not delight, but with something.

She was just coming in from the stables when she saw his large, manly form; swishing hips narrow, buttocks tight, she drooled a little bit, catching it with the back of her hand. Sir Basil Crouton was a superb male animal in prime condition and the strength and tensile beauty of his exquisite musculature reminded her of Diamond, the stallion she had just put to stud. "Be still my heart," she cried out, her fingers tearing desperately at the buttons of her blazer. "I must have him or I will surely die or be put off my feed for a day."

Winifred shivered, the fiery furnace at the junction of her thighs sizzled with molten need. The stable boy simply had not been enough. Perhaps she should order pizza. He was, she knew, most likely here to lay his attentions on Grandmere. She heard he had a fetish for fishnets... and ferrets, though she herself far preferred a gerbil or ten.

 

[chris2c4u]

"By George!" All thoughts of the Duchess Pynchon and her enticing 65 year old thighs in the lovely fishnets were banished from Sir Basil's mind as he saw the vision of loveliness galloping towards him. He ogled the striking angel who strode up the steps, looking her up and down again and proceeded to wheeze. For some reason he was put in mind of Stubbs' portraits.

"I say - is it Winnie?" His nostrils flared and he walked around the alluring form of the young woman who reminded him most definitely of the extremely attractive filly he had ridden just that morning. To the ancestral home of the Pynchon-Butts.

He saw that she was clawing at her blazer as he circled her; he put his manly hands on her upper arms and she squealed a little, melting back into his firm chest.

"Allow me, my dear," he said, tugging the garment, brass buttons spilling everywhere.

His hands cupped her heaving beasts as he stood behind her.

"You know I've always wanted to claim you," he said, biting the back of her neck horsily.

She bucked and fell forward onto the marble Apollo Belvedere in the Adam-designed hallway, clutching the statue's parts for support. She could now only feel the enormity of his member as it pressed against her, as he sought to cover her.

"Do not say neigh to me," his commanding voice boomed as he disinvested her of her unmentionables.

"It was always meant to be...

THUS!"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

She snickered, her knickers laying in a pool at her feet as she looked over her shoulder in an explicit come-and-take-me-now-lover-man-fuck-my-brains out sort of way, her love box as sticky as a piece of Godiva chocolate left on the dashboard of the car on a sweltering August day. She was READY!

Winnie's pink-tipped, aching and beautifully formed breasts, released from the confines of her 24-hour Cross Your Heart extra heavy duty brassiere, swung pendulously to the rhythm of the grandmother clock in the front hall as her body was buffeted to and fro by the ineffable Crouton's rear attack. She squealed, no chance of nay-saying what her body longed for as his hot distended and engorged flesh, pierced her womanhood like a bigger, thicker version of Cupid's sweet arrow as he pounded into her relentlessly, his seed spilling into her as he groaned a harsh groan of masculine satisfaction. "Winnie!"

As Basil's embalming injection continued to flood her, Winifred Pynchon-Butts, most often called Winnie, whinnied wildly, the clit-clops of her orgasm galloping feverishly throughout her body as she joined him, crying out: "Ride me hard you studly, lithe and powerful British god!! I spend! I... spend!!"