The Literotica Bulwer-Lytton thread.

I love these kinds of opening lines! They have such flavor and style. Give me your purplest prose!
 
Professor John Thomas, notorious, smooth-shaven spelunker, freshly released for the hot, sweaty summer from the confines of his university classroom, full-blooded with excitement and hardened to the task ahead, for a nervous moment stood before the entrance of the unexplored cave in the Virginia countryside, when, eager and ready to do his duty at last, he plunged head first into its moist and musty depths.
 
It was a bright and sunny day, birds chirping in the trees at the edge of town, where Donna Melons, having lost most of her clothing in a bizarre fight with a family of badgers while trying to get away from her mad ex-husband through the forest, stood watching the gas station on the outskirts of the abandoned looking town, wondering if the danger was more acute from the pursuing crazed former spouse or the three young men presently standing by their pickup truck with the gas pump in, watching the scantily clad Melons appearing from the between the trees with obvious gleeful interest.
 
Dark and ominous was the night, flashes of lightning dancing in the clouds as crashes of thunder echoed the gods’ displeasures, and Emily slogged through the muck and mire, dragging the large satchel of sex toys she had pilfered from the adult bookstore by the highway in an effort to appease her succubus mistress, her mind wallowing in the myriad of delightful punishments awaiting her should she have failed to find the specific toy demanded for the coming tasks, the voices of her pursuers, a burly man with a bald head and mean disposition, and a wiry vixen, goth and dire with more tattoos than a ship of sailors, each eager to punish her in their own way, echoed in her ears as a smile crept across her face; perhaps she should slow down just enough that they might help her mistress meet out her fate.
 
Horatio (as indicated by the sloppily-scrawled "Hi! My Name Is Horatio" sticker on his tee shirt) wandered aimlessly through the slowly churning crowd of similarly be-labeled youngsters, er young adults, under the watchfully wary wily eye of Willicent (as her own neatly-printed label declared in glittery green ink) and her seeing-eye dog Roofus (although you'd have to grab the tag dangling from his collar to learn that fact.)
 
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