What if they wrote porn? (writing thread)

[Lucifer_Carroll]

Ya wanted a writing thread?

All right, so those of you who have a more serious bent to your minds, who want to hone writing skills and generally show off, how about we of the Hell realm do just that?

Here is a topic for you. Many of us no doubt have great influences from the non-erotic world. We have read and loved and worshipped their stories. However, these stories are all non-erotic and one wonders how they would sound if they tried their hand on the more titilating side of life. Many of us who have read Phil Foglio know that this doesn't mean that the quality will decline nor the style. The same comedy or seriousness or horror always shines through and marks the author in everything (s)he writes.

I'll begin with Terry of the Pratchett

In Ankh-Morpork, city of a thousand surprises according to the brochure from the Guild of Merchants, there is a place on the street of the Seamstress Guild called the Blue Oyster. If you can survive the various welcoming commities and the oppressive smell, you'll find a sign advertising Bill Holfastson, owner of the largest dick on Discworld*. Bill was your average oversized bisexual human "seamstress" with a teddy fetish and an odd habit of wearing women's shoes and trying to sing songs by the openly female dwarf Barbara (formerly Barbarous) Steelsand. Other than all that, he was perfectly normal, especially if you used Ankh-Morpork standards...







*Technically inaccurate, the largest dick on Discworld was said to belong to Blind Io. It was a Giant gimp by the name of Richard who pleasured him every half-hour. In accuality, the largest dick belonged to A'Tuin, the world turtle, himself whom the priests on the edge of the Earth had discovered to be a hermaphrodite. Of course these were only the biggest dicks in terms of size. The largest relative dick belonged to Cassanova, the second greatest lover in the world, and a dwarf. Considering his only targets are human or larger, there is nothing more to say. However if you were talking about the largest in absolute size and on a human living in that particular section of Ankh-Morpork, you'd almost be correct except that Captain Carrot was patrolling outside. In fact, it'd be best to just call it a metaphor, commonly known by its true name of lie, and move on with the bloody story.

 

[Liar]

Cool idea. I'll see what I can come up with.

 

[Liar]

How's this for Neil Gaiman:

.................

Laszlo went over to the bathroom mirror to lake a long good look at his face. A few faint scars under a two day shave. Twice broken nose. Eyes glacier blue. It was a good face for most occations. A good face for getting black-blood-sprayed while driving a wooden stake into the spine of yet another careless night creature. A good, blank stare that could intimidate the living hell out of booze and testosterone drunk Hells Angels wannabes in late night bars. But it was not a face made for tender lovemaking to a good woman.

A good thing Miranda didn't give a fuck about faces. A good thing she wasn't the archetype good woman either. But she was there. She was real. It was smooth skin and warm limbs and a mouth that felt like home around his cock and a cunt that tasted like cinnamon.

Laszlo felt her hands slide around his sides, and her chin nudge the back of his shouder. Sometimes that's all it takes.

"What are you doing up?" said Miranda.

"Nothing," said Laszlo. Because it was true.

"Then come," said Miranda and tugged him backwards. "You can do that on top of me instead."

................

 

[Guest]

Larry Niven

Elephant turned off the phone. He gulped once or twice, then turned to look me in the eye. Had I waited for him to speak, I don't know what he would have said.

"I gloat," I said. "I gloat. I was right; you were wrong. If you had slept with her, your cock would have gone up in pure light. It gives me great pleasure to say, I told you so."

Elephant was suitably impressed though he loathed to admit it. He covered his cock with his hand in quiet contemplation before going on to say, "You told me so. You dont have to over do it you arrogant shit."

"Oh, I did, I did. I warned you not to go near that haunted pussy! Its not worth your life, I said. It was the signs from the heavens, I said, to warn us of her infestation.

 

[Colleen Thomas]

My favorite story is Watership Down by Richard Adams. I don't have to gues what he wuld sound like if he wrote porn, I struggled mightly to get through his book Maia. The man writes intriguing animals but his humans are so convoluted they share little with reality.

I guess if he wrote true porn it would have to be furry

-Colly

 

[Lucifer_Carroll]

bumpiing it for fun and profit.

 

[oggbashan]

Jonathan Swift

This thread has reminded me that I need to finish my Brobdingnag series.

My (aka Jonathan Swift's) story Gulliver in Lilliput is complete in itself.

Jeanne parodied Hamlet.

Og

Edited to include Jeanne's Hamlet:

Danish Parody
by jeanne_d_artois ©

To post or not to post: that is the question.
Whether it is better in a file to bury
The twists and turns of a disorder’d mind
Or submit a spell-check’d copy to this site
And by posting end them? To post: no doubt;
No more: and by one act to say we end
The heartache, and a thousand natural shocks
Of writing frenzy – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To post – to show
The same font as greater poets, well rhym’d:
To sleep unread, unheard – Ay, there’s the rub –
To low views, no votes, a poet may be doomed
When writing poems not classifi-ed erotic
Must give us pause. There’s the fear
That keeps an willing poet unnaturally silenc’d; .
For who would bear the taunts and jibes of some:
The unlicensed critics, the tearful importunity,
The pangs of well-meaning friends that may
Tear the matter from the meaning and spoil
The patent merit of the author’s words
When she herself might her quietus make
With the delete key? Who would creation bear
To grind and sweat under a Muse’s whip
But that the hope of something more like fame
The undiscovered acclaim whose happy warmth
No author can shun, puzzles the brain
And makes rather bare such skills we have
Than try some other that we know not of?
Thus creation does make authors of us all;
And how the native wit of composition
Is striven over with the pale art of thought
And anecdotes of great sex and passion
With the sweep of editing turn all awry
And lose all hope of recognition.

 

[pop_54]

I actually did this with my NanoWrimo story last year... Took an English classic kids adventure story and put a few odd twists into it I of course had to change the names to protect the guilty, but wrote a parody of Enid Blyton's 'Famous Five', it was so easy to covert to filth I wonder if she was thinking that way when she wrote the originals

First chapter of it is on the story board here in the 'celeb' section, (not my choice of cat, no option given), if you want to look, never bothered to edit and post the other 60,000 odd words of the tale cos it's in the wrong place.

 

[cantdog]

King

Simon woke up. The dream lost its urgency, but its images swam in his head. There'd been a car fire with his aunt in the front seat, a smell of hot metal, his aunt screaming "O my God!" He shuddered in the darkness.

"Where am I, anyway?" he said softly, peering around the room. Rain was rolling down the windowpanes and a print in orange streetlight color of the rainy window lay across one wall, while another one, a little bluish, of the same window was draped down the sill and onto the rug, from the moon. It wasn't his own room. His ass hurt.

"I'm at aunt Agatha's," he remembered. She'd spanked him and sent him to his room. "I must have fallen asleep."

Simon never had been spanked at home, it was a new experience. But he'd missed supper and he was thirsty and a little hollow in the belly. Aunt Agatha had different rules than he was used to, but she must intend for him to eat; she couldn't be figuring on starving him.

There were noises of movement close by in the house, and the smell of hot metal proved to be the kerosene stove. Agatha lived in an old farmhouse on the Bemis Road out of town, and there wasn't central heat, just stoves in a lot of the rooms. The smell must have set up the dream in his head, he decided.

"She might not like me wandering around the dark house at night, but I want to eat something. That's gotta be her making the noises; I can say I had a bad dream, take it from there." He got off the bed quickly because his ass was so tender.

Softly he opened the door to the upstairs hall. The noises were definitely in her room. He sighed once, got his gumption up, and stepped out into the hall. Then he froze to hear her voice from the lighted bedroom.

"O my God! Oh! O my Gawd!!" There were scrapings, short and repeated, and a soft thump-thump-thump in time with them. She moaned. And what was the other breathing? What if she'd hurt herself or something? But she must have been saying O my God before this, to give him the dream. It was weird.

He stepped closer to have a peek under the door. All the interior doors were high off the floor here. He lay down and found he could see a good deal of the room. What he saw made him hold his breath in awe.

Once he was beyond his initial shock he lay fascinated. His own cock was swelling. Simon was fifteen; he knew perfectly well what he was looking at.

"Gawd damn," he thought. "This is fucked up."

He stood and faded back toward his own room, but not quickly enough, because his aunt, wearing slippers and just her pearls and her bra, came out into the hall leading Cujo.

"Christ!" she exclaimed. "Simon!" She covered her crotch with a hand and her eyes got wide.

"I seen that," Simon said, pointing at her hand. "No need to cover it now."

"Oh, good God."

"I think I'll tell Mom and Dad. This oughta be fun," exulted Simon.

"I'll spank you raw, little man! You think you had it bad this afternoon--!"

"I don't guess you will."

She stopped blustering. Doubt, then fear, clutched her heart.

 

[Subo97]

Dr Seuss

Oh the twit! She did a split. And showed her clit.

"Oh Sam! See how wet I am."

I did not know
where else to go,
so go I went
and dived right in.

Right in and in and sometimes out and in.

"Oh, Sam, about to cum I am"

One thrust, two thrust, three thrust, fun
four thrust, five thrust, six thrust, done!

"Oh Sam, I came, I twitchily, itchily, bitchily came"

And she came and she came.
I was truly to blame.
Who was her name?

 

[Guest]

Re: Dr Seuss

Oh the twit! She did a split. And showed her clit.

"Oh Sam! See how wet I am."

I did not know
where else to go,
so go I went
and dived right in.

Right in and in and sometimes out and in.

"Oh, Sam, about to cum I am"

One thrust, two thrust, three thrust, fun
four thrust, five thrust, six thrust, done!

"Oh Sam, I came, I twitchily, itchily, bitchily came"

And she came and she came.
I was truly to blame.
Who was her name?

PMSL
genius

 

[Svenskaflicka]

Barbara Cartland:

Without saying another word, he lifted her up and carried her through the room, and laid her down on the bed, gently, as if she had been made out of the sheerest crystal, and he was afraid of breaking her. She shivered, and looked up at him, her large baby-blue eyes revealing the trembling of her heart. She met his warm, loving gaze, and immediately felt calm, a feeling that only inhanced when he placed a kiss, light as a feather, on her forehead, and whispered:

"My beloved, my dearest love, do not worry! I promise I will be very gentle with you, and let nothing hurt or harm you in the slightest way, for I love you with all my soul, my sweetest girl!"

She smiled, and reached out her hands for him to kiss, and said, with her tiny little voice:

"Oh, my darling husband! You make me feel as if thousands of angels had blessed me with kisses! I am not afraid - I want to be united with you and be truly yours, with body and soul! Come now, take me here, for I want to be your wife in every aspect of the word!"

"My wonderful angel, that's how I want you to feel!" he answered. "And I promise you, I will not disappoint your faith in me; I will make you mine, and show you what love can be like, when it is blessed like ours!"

With this, he covered her face and neck in kisses, and she gasped from the wonderful feelings he awoke in her, and even dared to put her arms around him, as he freed them both of every silky obstacle that kept them apart. She looked up on him with perfect trust in her eyes, as he made her open herself to his love, and when they finally united as one, she felt no pain, no fear, only love and joy that she was finally his. And her joy grew with every minute that he proved his love for her, and then they flew up to a divine paradise of golden ecstasy, where their love would dwell for ever, for it was true and pure, and she felt deep inside her heart that she would never again fall from this wonderful height of love.

Puking yet???

 

[Guest]

Barbara Cartland:

Without saying another word, he lifted her up and carried her through the room, and laid her down on the bed, gently, as if she had been made out of the sheerest crystal, and he was afraid of breaking her. She shivered, and looked up at him, her large baby-blue eyes revealing the trembling of her heart. She met his warm, loving gaze, and immediately felt calm, a feeling that only inhanced when he placed a kiss, light as a feather, on her forehead, and whispered:

"My beloved, my dearest love, do not worry! I promise I will be very gentle with you, and let nothing hurt or harm you in the slightest way, for I love you with all my soul, my sweetest girl!"

She smiled, and reached out her hands for him to kiss, and said, with her tiny little voice:

"Oh, my darling husband! You make me feel as if thousands of angels had blessed me with kisses! I am not afraid - I want to be united with you and be truly yours, with body and soul! Come now, take me here, for I want to be your wife in every aspect of the word!"

"My wonderful angel, that's how I want you to feel!" he answered. "And I promise you, I will not disappoint your faith in me; I will make you mine, and show you what love can be like, when it is blessed like ours!"

With this, he covered her face and neck in kisses, and she gasped from the wonderful feelings he awoke in her, and even dared to put her arms around him, as he freed them both of every silky obstacle that kept them apart. She looked up on him with perfect trust in her eyes, as he made her open herself to his love, and when they finally united as one, she felt no pain, no fear, only love and joy that she was finally his. And her joy grew with every minute that he proved his love for her, and then they flew up to a divine paradise of golden ecstasy, where their love would dwell for ever, for it was true and pure, and she felt deep inside her heart that she would never again fall from this wonderful height of love.

Puking yet???

erm.. ROLFMAO..
funny flicka!

 

[Svenskaflicka]

That part of her stories always bored me. I would just have written "and then they did it", instead.

 

[Subo97]

and then they did it

me, I always like women who are vocal during sex Of course, I like it better if they talk about sex.

 

[cantdog]

Me, I always like women during sex

 

[Guest]

I utterly adore myself during sex.

Perdita

 

[shereads]

Re: Dr Seuss

Oh the twit! She did a split. And showed her clit.

"Oh Sam! See how wet I am."

I did not know
where else to go,
so go I went
and dived right in.

Right in and in and sometimes out and in.

"Oh, Sam, about to cum I am"

One thrust, two thrust, three thrust, fun
four thrust, five thrust, six thrust, done!

"Oh Sam, I came, I twitchily, itchily, bitchily came"

And she came and she came.
I was truly to blame.
Who was her name?

Two Huzzahs and a Yowsa from the U.S. judge. A disgracefully obvious lowball 8.9 from the Russians.

 

[shereads]

James Thurber

"Not so fast! You're driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?"

"Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd.

"You were up to fifty-five," she said. "You know I don't like to go more than fifty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence.

Until he saw the hitchhikers.

"Why are you stopping? Walter, have you lost your mind?"

The woman was young, blonde and gorgeous. Her companion was the most intimidating man Walter Mitty had ever seen. In case the size 16 Doc Martins weren't a clear warning, every inch of exposed skin was tattooed with a whole catalog of obscenities. Except for the six-inch raised knife scar that was interrupted by the eye patch.

"This bastard will leave me in one dumpster, if I'm lucky." Mitty knew it even as he reached back to unlock a door for his guests. "But it'll be worth it for a look at the tits on his bitch."

"Pop the fucking trunk, man. Unless you want to ride back there." Mitty complied, despite the godawful smell of whatever was in that guitar case. If the hulk's ugly presence was the price of this girl's company, a glance at her in the rearview mirror sealed the deal.

She was looking at him. She was tonguing the the tip of her little finger, making it wet - and looking right at Walter Mitty.

 

[cantdog]

I love the "one dumpster!"

 

[shereads]

I love the "one dumpster!"

Thank you, Cant. Few Thurber fans are aware of his propensity for violent porn. It's not my personal cup of tea, but if you admire an author I think you have to respect the entire body of work, not just the soft pornography.

 

[cantdog]

"Buck, your time has come!"

A dire line, pregnant with menace. Thurber was okay. Ooh! I got one! Back in a moment!

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

Ernest Hemingway

They sat in the cafe drinking wine from the vineyard of a friend. It was good.

The man and woman ate the testicles of a young bull that died bravely in the ring. They were good.

In her room they made love. She was good.

He got up to leave. She looked at him. "You were good."

"Da nada," he said, and left. It had been good.

 

[cloudy]

Re: Ernest Hemingway (an add-on)

They sat in the cafe drinking wine from the vineyard of a friend. It was good.

The man and woman ate the testicles of a young bull that died bravely in the ring. They were good.

In her room they made love. She was good.

He got up to leave. She looked at him. "You were good."

"Da nada," he said, and left. It had been good.

They never crossed paths again. They died alone. In the rain.

 

[cantdog]

The poet Nash, sir.

Darling, do come inside--
I want to be taken for another ride.
And since you seem, still, to be able to think,
Have a drink.

If I have your assurance you won't call a conftable
I'll slip into something more comfortable;
Give me your coat; kick off the shoes;
Have some booze.

What, are you possessed?
You're still dressed!
Like the tits?
I chose this for comfort-- this is not my most expensive top, but it always fits.

I like to let them sway in the breeze
And to get on my knees
To put that lovely thing where it ought to be put to best entertain us
In my anus.