Lemur
12-13-2009, 02:04
If you follow this link (http://www.literaryreview.co.uk/badsexpassages.html) you will find an assortment of turgid, pretentious, ill-advised writing, entirely about sex. Apparently there's an award every year for the worst-written sex scene in literature, and these are the contenders.
Glancing through them, I'd be hard-pressed to pick one. They're all horrible. Just horrible. I'd quote some of them, but they contain descriptions of sex, complete with all of the appropriate naughty words. Yikes!
Here's an asterisked version of the winner (http://www.literaryreview.co.uk/badsex.html) to give you a taste of this wretched stuff:
Her ***** was opposite my face. The small lips protruded slightly from the pale, domed flesh. This sex was watching at me, spying on me, like a Gorgon's head, like a motionless Cyclops whose single eye never blinks. Little by little this silent gaze penetrated me to the marrow. My breath sped up and I stretched out my hand to hide it: I no longer saw it, but it still saw me and stripped me bare (whereas I was already naked). If only I could still get hard, I thought, I could use my ***** like a stake hardened in the fire, and blind this Polyphemus who made me Nobody. But my **** remained inert, I seemed turned to stone. I stretched out my arm and buried my middle finger into this boundless eye. The hips moved slightly, but that was all. Far from piercing it, I had on the contrary opened it wide, freeing the gaze of the eye still hiding behind it. Then I had an idea: I took out my finger and, dragging myself forward on my forearms, I pushed my forehead against this *****, pressing my scar against the hole. Now I was the one looking inside, searching the depths of this body with my radiant third eye, as her own single eye irradiated me and we blinded each other mutually: without moving, I came in an immense splash of white light, as she cried out: 'What are you doing, what are you doing?' and I laughed out loud, ***** still gushing in huge spurts from my *****, jubilant, I bit deep into her ***** to swallow it whole, and my eyes finally opened, cleared, and saw everything.
Glancing through them, I'd be hard-pressed to pick one. They're all horrible. Just horrible. I'd quote some of them, but they contain descriptions of sex, complete with all of the appropriate naughty words. Yikes!
Here's an asterisked version of the winner (http://www.literaryreview.co.uk/badsex.html) to give you a taste of this wretched stuff:
Her ***** was opposite my face. The small lips protruded slightly from the pale, domed flesh. This sex was watching at me, spying on me, like a Gorgon's head, like a motionless Cyclops whose single eye never blinks. Little by little this silent gaze penetrated me to the marrow. My breath sped up and I stretched out my hand to hide it: I no longer saw it, but it still saw me and stripped me bare (whereas I was already naked). If only I could still get hard, I thought, I could use my ***** like a stake hardened in the fire, and blind this Polyphemus who made me Nobody. But my **** remained inert, I seemed turned to stone. I stretched out my arm and buried my middle finger into this boundless eye. The hips moved slightly, but that was all. Far from piercing it, I had on the contrary opened it wide, freeing the gaze of the eye still hiding behind it. Then I had an idea: I took out my finger and, dragging myself forward on my forearms, I pushed my forehead against this *****, pressing my scar against the hole. Now I was the one looking inside, searching the depths of this body with my radiant third eye, as her own single eye irradiated me and we blinded each other mutually: without moving, I came in an immense splash of white light, as she cried out: 'What are you doing, what are you doing?' and I laughed out loud, ***** still gushing in huge spurts from my *****, jubilant, I bit deep into her ***** to swallow it whole, and my eyes finally opened, cleared, and saw everything.