For those who don't know, The Bulwer-Lytton Contest is put on every year, at the English Department of San Jose State. They used to publish em, but don't any more. So... since they usually shy away from awarding anything to the ones I liked, How bout some BAD openers for Erotica... Just the Worst Erotic Novel Opener You can think of. The Blonde walked into the smoky air of Dick Hardthrob's detective agency/gigolo scouting agency, and told Dick that she had a cold man and a hot lead, before shaking her head and telling him to reverse that.
Hot was the night, and Latisha had left the window open. She moaned in her sleep, as the moonlight aroused in her strange, erotic dreams, and kicked off the covers. Stiff nipples tented her thin chemise, drenched with sweat...and something heard her soft nightmare moans. Something that drifted through the open window as a heavy vapor, that poured and thickened as it gathered itself up between those legs. Pale hands held those bare ankles, lovingly but firmly, and Latisha's brow furrowed. Between her legs, like a tail, a little string crept...and towards this the nighttime visitor crept, until in the evil cloud there formed a face...a long red tongue that extended out from the thin, pale lips. Anyone who watched the macabre scene from their secret webcam, masturbating furiously at their sister's nighttime wet dreams, would have seen the cruel features of that face for just a moment before the head lifted up the thin chemise and buried itself against Latisha's virgin cunt, to drink her crimson juices straight from the source.
There was something alluring about the way she magically wiped the encrusted grime from a dish and seductively squeezed the brownish liquid into the bright and shining metal of the sink.
It was another Monday at work, that was, until she walked in. A hot redhead with giant tits that swayed under her top like a pair of bobble-head dolls stuck in an earthquake. My always impressive member instantly became erect and strained against my pants, threatening to burst through like a xenomorph ready to burst through a poor bastard's chest cavity. Game over, man, I thought to myself. No matter what happened next, it was going to be a long day at the funeral home.
