Real Sex Lives: Kat, "Let the horrible erotica begin."

(You have arrived in the midst of a grand celebration in which we're running IBWMW's all-time favorite Real Sex Lives.)

Kat wrote this for no other reason than to illustrate what bad smut is. Or perhaps to purge herself of the sentence, "He proceeded to kiss her with the fury of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum." Writes Kat, "Let the horrible erotica begin."

The couple walked along the edge of the water. They had only just met but knew that they were soul mates because that is how soul mates meet: on the beach at night.

They sat down on the blanket that the man, a massive Adonis with flowing gold locks, tanned skin and arms like a coal miner, had brought with him, knowing that he would meet the one who would complete him and would want to immediately to ravage her body as the ocean high tide ravaged the beach. He didn’t bring a condom though because he didn’t want any latex barrier between the woman’s love cave and the purple headed womb ferret that he was going to burrow into her.

He grasped her face and proceeded to kiss her with the fury of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, and then laid her back. Their lips smelt together like two pieces of metal and they knew their bodies had been created to come together and create a single beast with two backs.

Her lips tasted better than his favourite bottle of beer and he was thirsty. He started to strip her clothing like removing old paint from a priceless antique desk. He kissed and munched on her neck as if he were a vampire and going to suck the blood out of her, except that she would like it. His hands wandered over her corporeal form like they wanted to touch her everywhere.

The woman hadn’t worn panties because she, too, had known that she was going to meet her soul mate on the beach and would spread her ivory appendages for his man-stick to enter her love-socket and create a piston of passion. The man looked up at her making sure she was ready for his tongue to do a Charleston on her pleasure button. She looked at him with eyes that would devour him if they were mouths. His hands spread her legs wider so that he could look at the entrance to her tunnel of love. His mouth moved closer and he blew lightly on her slices of salami displayed before him as if in the window of a fine deli. She shuddered at the sensation as if she were having a seizure. He gazed up her and whispered that he had skipped dinner and was starving, and would she mind if he sated his hunger with her womanly sauce. She replied that her highway to heaven was starving too: for his mouth and his tallywhacker.

Like a convict escaping from prison, his tongue darted from his mouth and attacked her love-bump like it was the getaway car. He sucked on her man in the boat and held it with his teeth and rasped it with his tongue. Up and down, back and forth, up and down, back and forth. And up and down, back and forth a lot more times.

He pressed his mouth into her center burrowing his tongue past the toll booth and up the highway. It was like having a threesome with his tongue being his wingman who got the first round. Her power of speech failed her when the pleasure came as scattering bunnies taking off for Wonderland.

He slid back up her body, the grit from the beach sticking to their skin like sandpaper. His bayonet stabbed her strawberry short cake and they began to rock back and forth as if traumatized by the ecstasy of each other. Her legs clamped around his hips like the jaws of a great beast and they lovingly bruised each others nether regions until he erupted into her like a tube of vanilla icing.

"I'm so glad we made love instead of fucking like people in other erotic pieces, my shining unicorn," the woman said.

"I would never degrade our spiritual connection by fucking you. Or asking your name," the man replied.

Fini

She hasn't posted in a few months but you can read more from Kat at Kat O'Nine Tales.

(The Th'ayes Have It, image courtesy the dear and generous Chaffyn. No implication of badness by its proximity to the bad smut, for the record.)