Continued from previous page

Purple Prose as written by Claudia Terrones:

Shaydie looked up, her huge doe eyes eclipsing most of her blank, pale face. He was here. The cad who’d paid for the rights to her bed was, and, shuddering with fear, she threaded slim, graceful, trembling fingers through her thick, waist-length golden hair.

“There you are, little one,” Drakkar Bleue murmured, the sinfully sensual tone in his deep voice matched only by the smirk on his handsome face. He walked around the desk, past the chair where she sat, immobile. Shaydie’s legs twitched as his manly scent reached her pert nose. Horse and sweat and male blended intoxicatingly, making her cough helplessly into a dainty hand. She stood, and began walking toward the fire. “I was going to fetch you some wine, Lord Bleue.” She couldn’t wait, not another heartbeat, for him to drink the poison and then she’d be free, like a bird in heaven.

He nodded, watching the enticing ivory mounds that all but spilled out of her tight, low cut gown. They moved with every step she took, and suddenly, when she tripped over the chamber pot and nearly went sprawling, he couldn’t wait. His strong, battle-scarred, callused hands grasped her extraordinarily slim waist and pulled, so that her delicious body was pressed against him. If he thought the motion would relieve his enormous erection, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he grew bigger at the feel of her delectable globes and Shaydie gasped again, feeling the silk encased hardness that demanded entry to her innocent body. She reached out sharply to grab a vase, anything to hit him with, and the fabric at the back of her gown tore. With a harsh, demonic laugh, he began undoing the useless laces of her gown. “You’re proving most cooperative, wife.”

She shivered at the feel of the cold air on her naked back and turned in his arms. “You may take my body, sir, but you shall never have my soul,” she declared passionately against his lush lips. Much to her embarrassment, her maidenly fears were suddenly overwhelmed by the beat of desire, pounding steadily between her legs.

Drakkar thrust his hand into the silken length of her hair. Shaydie lunged, desperate to be free of his grasp, succeeding only in smacking her forehead against his rock hard jaw. Ignoring the pain, he parted her rose lips with his own, delving inside with his roving tongue, capturing the moans she made that threatened to make his seed burst from his lust-stiffened rod right then and there.

Madness, he thought. He’d had a million whores, and now an innocent was nearly bringing him to his knees. Instead of succumbing to that particular desire, he began tearing at what remained of her dress, ripping at the garments until she was blessedly naked before him. She pulled away, shy to have a man look at her like this, and her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “Do not cover yourself, my little wife, let me see you.”

She hesitated, and it took his strong hands to pull away her own. Oh yes. She was perfect, pure, and his. He’d never have thought her so perfectly formed, never thought that her slim back and delicate waist could give place to such lush, abundant, creamy breasts. He touched a flowering pink nipple with his finger. It swelled instantly, puckering into a throbbing little button of need before his very eyes. “You like that, little one?”

Before she could answer he bent his head down and grasped the diamond hard nipple between his teeth, tugging until her head fell back and she moaned, the sound making his love lance swell even further within the confine of his snug breeches. Releasing her breast, now glistening with moisture, he embraced her, pulling her down on the bed. His engorged manhood was not going to stand much longer the siren call of her, and, discarding all of his clothes in a single second, he returned to her. He spread her thighs, apologizing when her ankle cracked against the bedpost, watching how she bit her lower lip in a combination of fear and anticipation. The gesture made his sex twitch and her eyes widened, feeling him against her woman’s portal of bliss.

Not yet, he told himself, willing to delay his own pleasure if it killed him. His long, large knuckled fingers began probing, stroking the slick, velvety petals at the juncture of her thighs, feeling the silky dew that told him she was ready for him. Oh how he wanted to taste her, to bury his tongue in her love pudding. But that would have to wait. Shaydie sucked in a breath, having expected nothing like this. “Drakkar-“ she whispered, her voice tremulous.

“Give yourself to me, little one. I will take care of you, and tomorrow, you shall awake a woman.”

Shaydie smiled at the thought of leaving her childhood behind, all thoughts of poisoning him forgotten, and pressed herself up against his hand. “Oh yes, Drakkar.” She twined her slender arms about his neck and kissed his cheek, knowing he would do as he promised. Hooking his arms under her knees, he spread her further, and, unable to wait another moment, thrust his rod, a lance of steel encased in silk, into her waiting honeypot. Shaydie screamed as her maiden’s barrier was violently ripped by the thick, pulsing intruder. Drakkar was very still inside her, not moving for fear of making the pain worse. He rained kisses over her cheeks, tenderly sipping the tears that fell from her chocolate eyes. “It will be better, sweeting, I promise.” Her milky thighs were shaking along his hips but she smiled bravely for him and nodded. Only a heartbeat later did she feel the pain vanish and a sudden need begin to coil deep in her belly. She couldn’t take it, him being there, inside her, not moving, and her hips began moving in a primitive rhythm as old as time, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow as he joined her, his hips pumping vigorously into her impossibly hot sheath.

It was happening, Shaydie thought, what she’d heard the maids gossiping about. The pressure inside her was rolling, tighter and tighter, making all thoughts vanish from her head. His fingers delved between them, finding her sensitive nubbin of flesh and plucking repeatedly. Suddenly, a burst of ecstasy roared through her untutored body, sending lashes of pleasure through her until she was screaming, mindlessly, wordlessly, and felt Drakkar’s huge hand clamp down on her mouth, her body heaving and tossing about as if she were on a storm at sea. He’d thought it would be over in a minute. He’d been wrong. Her newfound passion was burning him, and he summoned every ounce of his legendary control so he wouldn’t spill his seed inside her yet. He was still monstrously huge, and hard as any of the silver candlesticks that littered her room. When they were finished, three hours later, he watched her sleeping in his arms as if she’d slept there all her life, and kissed her forehead. Asleep, Shaydie swatted at him, cutting his cheek with her ring and then she turned, caught in the blankets, and fell off the bed with a loud thud. His cheek was burning, dripping blood, and he yanked at the corner of Shaydie’s blanket to stop the flow. Shaydie rolled all the way to the hearth, where her skull collided with the stones with a loud crack.

Drakkar stilled, the blood forgotten. He felt the lack of pulse at her neck, stood up again, feeling the blood drain from his head. A chill enveloped his powerfully muscled body and, not wanting to touch the blanket that had last held the body of his late wife, he stood in front of the fire. He needed to think, Drakkar mused, as he lifted the cup of wine to his lips.

Purple Prose as written by Suzie Choi:

Hatred Turned Love – Love Turned Hatred

Oh, how she hated him!!!

With her dainty fists, Elaine de la Chaise pounded against the heavy oak door and shouted at the top of her delicate lungs. “Let me out, you swine! How dare you lock me up like this!? I hate you! You. . . you are despicable!”

The heavy oak door remained silent and unyielding.

This wretched man always managed to make her mad beyond human bearing. Rascale de Boudoir might call himself a Nobleman, but he was in no way a Gentleman! Elaine stood with her back against the door. She remembered to breathe again and air filled her lungs, making her breasts shiver. Oh, how she’d like to hit him hard on his stubborn dark-haired head! Yes, she was mad at him! No other man could anger her until she was nearly bursting with red-hot fury. A faint voice at the fringe of her mind whispered that she wasn’t that bad in riling up this impossible man, either. A smug smile of satisfaction slowly spread out on her porcelaine white face. She finally admitted it: she reveled in their repartee, if one could call it that, at least in his reactions to her “teasings.” She hated him, all right. But she wildly desired him, too. Elaine thought about the first time they had made love after he had taken her captive. If one could call their savage mating thus. She hated him, because he was the enemy of her father, but nevertheless. . .

When he had first touched her, she had tried to resist, but a slow and intense burning had ignited the essence of her womanhood. When he had first kissed her, she had tried to free herself of his passionate embrace, but when his tongue met hers in a mesmerizing dance of heated lust, she had felt herself go all weak and defenseless in his strong, hard arms.

Now, that the memories of that night were coming back, Elaine had to steady herself against the bed-post. She was all weak-kneed again just from thinking of his rough, utterly male touch. She sat down on the bed with her eyes closed and let the memories of their first intimate encounter flood back into her mind. Images came back in flashes, his dark hand on her full milky-white breasts, his tongue lovingly ravishing the moist and slick folds of her most private place, his eyes hooded with savage passion as he entered her slowly, piercing her soul with his demanding hunger.

Elaine swallowed. She felt all hot and bothered. She found herself gasping at the touch of a big male hand.

“You are touching yourself in a most unladylike manner.” Rascale said. Elaine looked down her willowy, perfectly shaped body and saw that her hand was resting on her breasts. Color flooded her skin from her creamy and lace-rimmed cleavage upward. She jerked her hand away from its lush, pillowy resting place and jumped up.

“How dare you sneak up on me, you dirty bastard?!” She flung herself at him and began to punch his broad manly chest with her dainty fists. He only laughed and gripped her tight around her tiny waist.

Rascale loved it when she was shaking with fury, her breasts began to quiver in a most intriguing – and arousing – manner. He thought about how she looked when she was in the throes of passion, and desire washed over him in a liquid hot wave. Elaine suddenly stopped writhing in his steel-hard grip and looked up at him with her eyes wide open in shocked realisation. It took a short electrically charged moment for her to regain her composure. Then, she began to hit him with renewed vigor.

“Oh, how dare you to be aroused when I am trying to kill you!” she shouted. “Have you no sense of propriety in your big oxen’s head?”

“Not one modicum” he replied, a wide and mischievous smile on his handsome face.

“I hate you!”

“Now, let’s make love” he murmured, distracted by her musky, womanly scent that drifted in intriguing wafts from her breasts. He sank down on the bed, taking her with him, but somehow she got hold of the chandelier beside the bed and hit him with it. She missed his head by a hairsbreadth, but her blow still landed on his shoulder. He groaned. Enough was enough.

His eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at her with a savage expression on the chiseled planes of his face. Oh, how she would pay for making him lose his temper! Slowly, menacingly, he bent over her, his intent to make her beg for his love clearly showing on his pirate-like features. He took her small hands in one of his impossibly big ones and pinned them above her head.

Mesmerized, Elaine watched, as he descended upon her, glorious, like an eagle on its prey. And his prey, she was, for she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his sensually beautiful face, the face of a fallen angle. Yes, she brazenly admitted to herself, she loved to look at his gorgeous features! Just looking into his eyes made her knees go weak and made her breathing shallow. Now, she could only watch as he took possession of her. He brought his mouth down on hers and made her gasp as his tongue invaded the velvety recesses of her mouth. The slow movement of tongue against tongue, all hot and wet, made her breasts tingle achingly and desire began to curl deep down in the secret place between her creamy thighs.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his big strong hand moved down the line of her neck and settled warmly on her lace-covered breasts. He gently squeezed them, and her juices began to flow for him. He tried to open her bodice with his free hand, but the laces had somehow become entangled during their fight. With an impatient groan he ripped open her bodice until her breasts fell into his rough manly hands. A whisp of air made her nipples tighten into dusky peaks, aching for the touch of a man. Rascale smiled knowingly. He lightly rubbed his palm over her nipples and was rewarded by a shiver and a breathless intake of breath. “So, you like this, Precious Pearl?” The only answer he got was a soft groan. He growled lowly in appreciation. “I’ll make you beg for me to take you hard!” he murmured huskily against her breasts. She moaned, and as his tongue toyed teasingly with her softly rounded mounds, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Her response to his teasings made him even grow harder than he had ever thought was possible. Still smiling, he bent over Elaine again to lave her rose hued globes with his knowing tongue.

Elaine writhed lasciviously beneath his weight and allowed herself to succumb to the mastery of his touch. She wildly desired him, and as he murmured deliciously naughty suggestions in her ear, she felt her desire grow into an all consuming flame of passion. Rascal breathed feather light kisses onto her already heated skin, slowly moving over her flat belly toward the v-shaped nest of hair at the juncture of her milk-white thighs. She could barely stand it any longer and her hips pushed eagerly upward to meet the soft hot touch of Rascale’s tongue. She didn’t have to wait for long. He worshipped her with his mouth, he explored every single fold of her most private place and finally found the pearl of her womanhood, glistening with her desire for him. His touch made her feel hot and wild. She panted as he slaked his thirst with the evidence of her desire and felt her hips move to heighten her pleasure even more. After a short moment of ultimate bliss, or was it eternity, the starry dream-world around her exploded and she lay breathlessly in the bed again.

It dawned on her what she had done. She had succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh again, although she had sworn herself not to. And who was to blame for it? Rascale de Boudoir. He was always the cause when she lost control of herself. The anger from before returned with a vengeance. Hot-cold fury boiled under the surface as she turned her gaze to her right where that swine sat with a smug self-confident expression on his handsome face. No man had the right to sport such a beautiful face! She hated him even more for it. She felt a sudden and very strong urge to punch him on his arrogant beautiful nose, but instead, she gave him a sugary-sweet smile.

“Now, beg for me to take you hard!” he said. He began to flick her nipples. “I know you want it, wench!”

She gave him another sweet smile and settled down on her knees to undo his breeches and pull them down to his knees. She looked at him. His pulsating manroot jutted proudly out of a nest of crisp black hair. Inadvertently, her eyes went wide at the sheer magnificence of him. Desire pulsed through her body again, but she ignored it. The swine deserved a blow to his male ego! She lavishly caressed his male flesh that stood towering before her with her dainty fingers. And when he began to pant with unfulfilled wanting, she brought her mouth to his male member and laved him with her little pink tongue until he was nearly, but not quite, at the edge.

She nodded with satisfaction, stood up and went to the door. She knew, that he couldn’t follow her fast enough with his breeches down. She gave him another utterly sweet smile and hissed: “I hate you!”

He growled with frustration. “Please, come back! Let’s make love. You can’t leave me like this!”

Elaine walked out of the door, closed it and turned the key . Now it was her turn to smile smugly with a self-confident expression on her face. She passionately loved him, but from time to time, this impossible man needed a set-down.

Purple Prose as written by Eryka L. Peskin, as “an amalgam of author many influences: Linda Howard, Elizabeth Lowell, Susan Johnson, some Jayne Anne Krentz., and some Rachel Gibson for the road. Enjoy!

Building a Mystery

“I can’t believe that this is happening to me!” Sarah Sue moaned, banging on the door once more for good measure. But it was true. There was no doubt. She was locked in the building. Alone. For the rest of the night.

Sarah Sue had a charming penchant for talking to herself when she thought she was alone, and muttered to herself about the dangers of workaholicism. Then, just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the electricity went out. “Oh, no!” she moaned. Simultaneously the air stopped, the pervading silence suddenly loud in her ears.

Sarah Sue immediately felt the temperature change. New York in the summer without air conditioning was no small matter, and without the a/c fighting the heat-well, Sarah Sue knew that she’d have to get out of there soon.

She whipped her cell phone out of her bag. She realized that this wasn’t exactly an emergency, so she dialed the non-emergency police number. All she got was the fast busy signal-the one that signified that the number wasn’t working. She tried again. This time she got that annoying tone and the “You have reached a number that is no longer in service. . . ” message. Once more. At last! It was ringing! And then. . . nothing. The battery had died-again.

She strode over to the security desk. The phone was offline, and she didn’t know the code to activate it. She stood by the door, thoughtfully chewing her full lower lip, trying to figure a way out of the reality of this calamitous situation.

“Is there a problem, Miss?” a husky deep voice asked.

She couldn’t help it; she shrieked. Loudly. She pressed her back to the tinted glass window. “Who. . . who’s there?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t be alarmed,” the voice soothed. “I’m doing some work on the building electrical system. That’s why it went out. That’s why you can’t get out. It’ll be fixed soon.”

“Where are you? Who are you?” Sarah Sue asked of the sexy voice, still wary, still cautious. “I’m right here.” A shape began to form out of the shadows by the elevator. The light of the setting sun pierced through the windows, illuminating his face.

Sarah Sue barely managed to hold back a gasp at the Adonis in front of her. He was tall, well over a foot taller than her tiny 5’1” frame. He was tall and rangy, the ropy muscles in his arms well defined. The light cast his chiseled cheekbones and jaw into stark relief, and illumined his royal blue eyes. A frisson of pure desire shot uncontrollably through her.

She had to clear her throat several times. “Promise?”

By that point he was right in front of her. He placed his hand on her face, rubbing her cheek. “I promise,” he comforted.

Sarah Sue couldn’t help herself; she nestled her face into his hand and felt herself drown in his eyes. It had been so long since she’d felt any kind of connection with a man. Not since that disastrous love affair years ago…and it had never, ever been so strong.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe. His thumb toyed with her lips, and she swallowed hard. Again.

“Th-thanks,” she whispered past the obstruction in her throat. She managed to tear her gaze from him. She thought she should pull away and put some distance between herself and this wondrous creature, but Sarah Sue was rendered immobile by desire and want.

Sarah Sue was a modern woman, and had learned that to get what you want, you have to reach out and take it. Even as these thoughts of empowerment were running through her mind, lust and desire were fogging up her normally acute thought processes. I know I shouldn’t-I hardly know him. . . but how I want to kiss him!

“I know I just met you,” he murmured huskily. He ran his hand over her silky hair. “But – “ he paused. “I have to kiss you.” And with that, his strong mouth came stormily down on hers.

Sarah Sue was overwhelmed by the assault. The obdurate pressure of his mouth forced her own open, and the moist citadel was conquered by his marauding tongue. Moments – years? – passed by her, and she tore her lips away from his before she fainted from lack of oxygen.

Deprived of the sweet succulence of her lips, his own lips and tongue traveled down the sensitive line of her throat. He felt her pulse beating rapidly under her skin, and laved the area, drawing the skin into his mouth. She gasped at the sensation, astounded at the explosions taking place over her nerve endings.

His hands, which had caged her against the window, had transplanted themselves to her waist. His thumbs drew erotic circular patterns on her hips, and slowly, her skirt was rising, dragged inexorably upward by his big, powerful hands.

Sarah Sue knew that this was wrong – he was just a stranger! – but the tide of desire was sweeping her along. Somehow her hands found their way to his head, and she wove her fingers through his sleek hair. Distantly she wondered what hair product he used. His hair was so silky! But her jealousy, along with her second thoughts, continued to drift away.

His hands slid upward until his thumbs were pressing against the bottoms of her full breasts. “Touch me,” she whispered throatily. She placed one of her delicate hands on his, and dragged it up to cover her breast entirely. She gave a shudder of pure pleasure and gasped with delight. Her breast fit perfectly into his hand.

“You’re so small, so petite, so perfect. I can practically span your waist with my hands. But your breasts are so full and firm!” he growled.

Sarah Sue melted. “And you’re so big and strong!” She measured her hand against his, pressing it against her breast.

“Look how big my hand is,” he rumbled. “See how completely is covers your breast.” He could feel the nipple harden in the center of his palm. His thumb swirled around it, plucking it to a sure point. His other hand came to her blouse and suavely opened the buttons, leaving her pale orbs open to his view.

Without further ado he’d flicked open the front clasp of her lacey lavender bra. With a sigh of pleasure Sarah Sue clasped his hands to her aching breasts and leaned on the glass, weakened even more. The sun had almost completely sunken into the Hudson, leaving them immersed in darkness. But her pale body glowed like a beacon, drawing his hungry gaze to her voluptuousness.

He had to taste her. Now. Like a ravening wolf, he swooped down on her lusciousness. He drew her thrusting nipple into his mouth, laving, suckling, nipping. She moaned in delight, almost beside herself.

Dimwittedly Sarah Sue realized that though her breasts were exposed to lips and air, his own shirt was hiding his glory from her own eyes. She had to feel his skin next to hers. The compulsion couldn’t be denied. With a will of their own (but supported by the will of her mind) her hands tore open his shirt, the buttons making pinging sounds as they hit the marble floor. With a sigh of relief, she ran her fingers over his well defined musculature.

“Oooh, you’re so big and strong,” she breathed.

“Mnrmph,” he mumbled into the deep valley between her breasts.


He released her nipple came out of his mouth with an audible pop. “Thanks.” He grinned up at her wolfishly. Unable to withstand the brief torture of having his lips removed from her breast for even a millisecond, she grasped his head and shoved it right back where it belonged.

After a moment of frantic suckling he needed to make her his own – in all ways.

It seemed that Sarah Sue read his mind: “I need you inside me. Now!” she uttered. Not one to wait when she was in the moment, she finished stripping his now buttonless shirt from his broad and muscular shoulders. When it caught on his arms, she made a sound of impatience and ripped it clean from his body.

“Do you work out?” he murmured against her lips.

“Of course,” she said, intent on her task. His shirt off, she was free to take in his resplendently mighty chest. It was the kind of chest that inspired women to shove money down a man’s pants. This time, however, Sarah Sue’s impulse was to get into his pants. She licked a path down the arrow of hair that pointed inevitably to his throbbing tumescence, now standing at titanic attention.

She struggled to unbutton his jeans, but her fingers were trembling a yearning to deep to control. “Let me,” he said thickly. With a few twists of his long, svelte fingers, his buttonfly Levis 501s were loosened. With a sigh of relief his manhood stood at attention, unfettered by the stiff denim, poking through his boxers.

Again, the only word Sarah Sue could emit was “Wow.” It was so big, particularly from her current vantage point-on her knees. Her mouth watered, and she took his bulging maleness into the hot wet cavern of her silken mouth.

A deep groan rumbled through the entirety of his buff body, and his hands entangled themselves in her curly glossy hair. Over and over she worked him, until he could take it no longer. “Inside you – I must be inside you,” he rasped, and pulled her head away. Again there was an audible pop.

Sarah Sue felt her liquid essence pooling between her silken thighs. With an ever increasing urgency, she pushed at his pants until they were around his legs. Savagely he kicked off his timberland hiking boots-and dimly heard the shattering of glass as a boot crashed into something breakable.

But he cared not, and neither did Sarah Sue. In fact Sarah Sue attributed the tinkling sound to the preorgasmic tension roaring through her slender body.

Sarah Sue felt herself sinking further and further into the succulent morass of her shameless yearnings. Whilst he was occupied by ridding himself of his very tight jeans, Sarah Sue entertained herself by playing with her breasts, continuing to stoke her own lustful fires.

Finally he was unclothed. Before her he stood tall, naked, proud, and sinfully gorgeous. “Let me do that,” he said, fascinated by her auto-love play. Gently he pushed her onto her back. Her shirt and bra were open, framing her luxuriant torso; her skirt ruched to her waist.

He licked an incendiary path down her torso, circling her nipples and navel, all the way down to her weeping mound of Venus.

Sarah Sue couldn’t control her reaction any longer. She cascaded over the precipice, the explosions continuing for what seemed like aeons, convulsing gently. But there was something missing; she wasn’t complete. She needed to feel him inside her. She writhed against his tongue, feeling her desire escalate anew. “Oh, please. Please,” she whimpered, twisting against him, unable to articulate.

But he knew what she wanted, and wanted it himself. He kissed his way up her body, latching onto her peaked nipple, so attuned to her body that he could feel the postorgasmic return of desire.

His control was dwindling. He had to be inside her, now, or he would embarrass himself in a way he hadn’t since he was a teenager. The blunt tip of his pulsing rod was poised at the entrance to her love grotto. He penetrated slowly.

Sarah Sue was stunned at his breadth. Even though she was way aroused, and still wet from her previous paroxysm of bliss, he was still too large. A cry escaped her.

“I know it hurts,” he said manfully, trying to control his impulse to drive mercilessly into her moist warmth. But if there was one thing he had been taught, and taught well, it was that a man always waits for the pleasure of his woman. Sweat dripped from his face, splattering on the floor. He reached one hand down between her legs and toyed with her button of pleasure. As he played her like a lute, she relaxed more, and he entered her deeper.

On and on this game went, playing, penetrating, deeper and deeper, until at last, he was touching the tip of her womb, sunken to the hilt. Sarah Sue was writhing under him, tossing her head from side to side. She pushed her hips up to commence the rhythm she needed so much to attain that completion.

He positioned her so that every thrust rubbed against her sensitivity, driving her closer and closer to that point of no return: la petite morte. She moaned, whimpering, “Yes! Yes! Yes! And was again tossed into a wild starburst of paradise.

Still he wasn’t with her; he was still iron hard within her. “You have…so much…control,” she gasped out.

“Tantra,” he panted. “It’s an Eastern method of prolonging lovemaking to attain that higher plain of pleasure,” he grunted, his hips still maintaining the rhythm.

“Oh my god, I can’t bear it any longer,” Sarah Sue cried out. “Harder! Harder!” she commanded. He couldn’t handle it any longer. In the past his training had allowed him to achieve hours of throbbing hardness, but Sarah Sue was just too potent; she completely undermined his control. His hips thrust faster and faster. She was still positioned in that same way, so her desire grew as well.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he grunted sexily. Finally, just as she disintegrated once again, his muscles turned to stone, and she felt his wetness burst inside her. He collapsed on top of her with a deep groan.

Moments later, he was still nestled within her-softened, but not limp. Sarah Sue felt boneless and couldn’t move-particularly since he was still on top of her. Yet in spite of the fact that the floor was marble and he was an extremely solid and large male, she felt quite comfortable. She felt…loved.

He couldn’t believe what had happened to him. A chance electrical outage had brought him the greatest pleasure he’d ever known, and his contentment knew no bounds. He was pillowed quite comfortably on her luscious body, and never wanted to move.

Somehow he managed to push himself onto his hands, gazing into her face. They looked into each other’s eyes, all of their feelings evident through those windows to the soul.

Sarah Sue cleared her throat and licked her dry lips. “Um…”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He bent his head and gave her a soft kiss.

“What’s you’re name?” they said, against the other’s succulent lips, but forgot to come up for air, and their velvet battle, in which there were no losers but only winners, was engaged again.

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Issue #77 of Laurie’s News & Views – details of the contest’s outcome and reader responseIndex for Laurie’s News & Views (Check the index for “silly sex”/”purple prose”) Ferri Tales – There’s plenty of purple prose here! (And a return link to the PPP section as well)

If you liked this parody,

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