Today I’m launching my Bad Sex Competition. Why? Because I think you have the imagination to really give it to me and write me an erection droopingly bad sex scene. The Challenge
Take two or more famous people or bloggers (pick me! pick me!) and write a sex scene crammed with godawful unerotic moments, that will have us reaching for the sick bag or at least give us a good giggle.
Here’s the juicy part: If you win this competition, you can have sex with me in virtually any position you like. You can do it for twenty-four hours straight and make me shout “That’s amazing, Mr President!” every time you ejaculate. But bear in mind we're talking virtual sex here. Still, I guarantee you’ll have a good time. And if you’re a woman I’ll give you, well, anything you want, sex obviously, as well as a full body massage and a goody bag full of virtual Lancome make up.
There are also lots of cash prizes. Thousands of dollars in virtual money is up for grabs, so let’s have your entries and make them good.
This is how we do it
I’ve written a particularly gruesome scene featuring Luscious English Muffin Nigella Lawson:
and our very own blogging stud troika (steady ladies, don’t faint with excitement. He’s currently based in Hong Kong, and he’ll get to you all in his own sweet time). The scene: A dinner party in Islington, which Nigella is catering for a group of stuck up media types.
While Nigella is in the kitchen, troika approaches her from behind, slaps her arse and burps.
“Got any Stella? The Belgian beer they’re serving out there tastes like rat's piss.”
Nigella spins round, cleavage a-quiver over her low cut gown.
“Do you mind? Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, not to mention man handling me in such an intimate way?”
“Yeah, I know who you are. Nigella pissing Lawson. So, do you?”
“Do I what?” says Nigella, licking batter provocatively from her spoon.
“Have any Stella?”
“I can’t think what you mean.”
“Never mind," Troika says, taking the spoon from her and throwing it aside. “Listen, this might be your lucky night, because I quite fancy putting my pork sword into your toad in the hole.”
“I beg your pardon? I am married you know.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be in and out in under ten minutes.”
Troika grabs her tits, sticks his head between them and makes a snuffling sound.
She starts to pant. “But what about my soufflé? It’s in the oven. It’ll be ruined!”
“Stuff your soufflé.”
“Oh, well, I must admit you are rather a charmer, albeit in a rather Neanderthal way. Go on then. How do you want me?”
“Oh, just lie down on the granite top and show us your muff.”
“Very well.” She lies down, lifts up her dress and urgently pulls down her knickers.
Troika kneels down and spreads her legs.
“Fucking hell, just my luck to pull a posh bint with a stubbly chuff. I don’t want to get razor burn off your badly shaven minge.”
“Oh, oh, please! Thrust your tongue deep into my vulva.”
“All right, but only because you’re not a chav. Not every piece of skirt would get this sort of regal treatment.” He goes down on her for a while.
“You brute! You animal! You’ve ignited a flicker in me that’s about to set me aflame. Oh, there. Stay right there!” Presses his head into her crotch.
“Oh chuffing hell, I’ve been on the job three minutes, what gives? I haven’t got all night to wait for you to come, you know. I’m going to flip you over and finish off like that.”
Rolls her onto her stomach, and, after a few thrusts, pulls out, punches the air and shouts “Goal!” spraying his load in every direction.
Troika idly wipes his cock on the velvet curtains, before zipping up his fly.
“Sorry about that, some of it got on this tray of pistachio sprinkled apricots stuffed with crème fraiche. I think they should be good to go if you wipe them down a bit. See you around, love.”
Troika wanders off.
So, I hope that’s got your juices flowing. Please put your Bad Sex Scene in my comments or, if it’s a magnum opus, send it to me at emmakcontact at yahoo.com
Who am I? Displaced Londoner now living in the States with my two little girlies and long suffering husband. Co-author of hilarious parenting book Cocktails at Naptime www.cocktailsatnaptime.com
My mom's an Austrian, my dad's a Brit, which makes me a Britaustrian, or possibly an Austrish?