Your Best Sentence:

[McKenna]

.

 

[grumpymann]

Ohhhh, that sentence! The juxtaposition of African to European and black to white is great. I like what you did there.




The first sentence above creates such crisp, perfect picture in my mind's eye. I especially like the personification at the end, "...like translucent skeletal fingers seeking to ensnare the unwary." It seems to forshadow something, and now you've got me curious to find out just what.

I like the second sentence because of the way you find the eroticism in something I don't think most would consider erotic!






Wow Charley! The first time I read it, I didn't get... but the second time through it completely blew me away! VERY creative! I am properly impressed!





BT, these are lovely. I really like the first one the best, especially the imagery of "waves gently licking the land." That in and of itself is quite erotic. It's beautiful and poetic; thanks for sharing!





Oy!






Jeeeez Carl, putting on the schmooze?!

My thanks

 

[Just_John1]

Cool Exercise

This is my favorite descriptive paragraph I've ever written... Strangely enough not from my favorite story

Looking up stream John watched the cool water flowing in the tortured path that all mountain streams do, negotiating around the rocks that tried to block the water’s path. The sound of the water was so peaceful, not the rushing roar of water battling to dig a path but the subtle trickle of water at peace with the path that history has provided. He watched as the water dropped a couple of feet into the pool, falling quietly in a smooth surfaced, almost clear curtain, the water of the pool giving in graciously to the invasion of the new water. John looked the other way and saw the pool give way to a wide expanse of stream that instantly created images of laying in an inner tube, not going anywhere but drifting slowly on the currents. - "Mary Ch2"

JJ1

 

[Edward Teach]

Unable to hold back any longer, he began pounding her as hard and fast as he could, driving deep into her with stabbing penetrations while making loud grunting, growling, animal noises. Overwhelmed, she quit moving her body and completely surrendered to the intense primal experience of being fucked, and not needing to nor being able to fuck back. She squeezed his hands and curled her toes, trying to find something on which to cling that might anchor her, stop the spinning. Short, staccato yelps quickly gave way to a sing-song scream as she yelled continuously while both inhaling and exhaling. Suddenly his body tensed and he came, spewing a burst of hot semen deep inside her, followed by three spasms in rapid succession, causing her to have yet another orgasm.

Ed

 

[CharleyH]

Thanks McKenna - see vanity . . . any author LOVES to be complimented

 

[whispering_surrender]

Well, after the incredible replies of some great authors....not sure about posting mine but, I'll give it a go. This is the opening of one of my stories, and gives the lead in to one of my favorite sentences (the last one).

Whisp

Surrounded by the happy bustle of the holiday, I smile, I joke, I laugh in all the appropriate places. Yet, over it all is a lingering ache, a yearning to be somewhere else. Lingering images of him overlay my thoughts, sometimes vividly catching me by surprise in the middle of activities, always there just below the surface. His voice floats in my mind, filling in his replies to my imagined questions.

Cradling the cup of coffee in trembling fingers, I inhale the aromatic fumes that float around my face and smile at my father, as he proudly models the hat I had knit him. As I lift my eyes, I once again catch a conspiratorial glance pass between my brothers, and brush it off as their excitement at managing to keep their present for our parents a secret this year.

Gradually, the floor beneath the tree became visible. Final packages are distributed and the requisite oohs and aahs uttered. Rising, I offer to help Mom with the meal. She thanks me for the offer, but says it is pretty much ready, just has to go in the oven to cook, and suggests I play some carols for her.

I laugh softly as I realize all my carol books are already spread over the beautiful old upright piano. Lifting the lid, I am overcome with wonder as always by the glittering spread of the keys. Without thought, I begin to pick out the notes of my favorite carol. A smile flickers across my face as I hear my father's mellow tenor blend with my own husky contralto.

Time seems to stand still as the warm melodies of the traditional songs flow through my body and out of my fingers. My floating hands articulate the surging ebb and flow of my emotions on this special day.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

I don't know about my favorite sentence, but I've had an image in my mind for a couple of weeks and don't know if I'll ever get to use it. It's about missing someone, and missing them "in the hollow grindings of my nights, in the ragged scrapings of my days."

---dr.M.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[gauchecritic]

This from my last story. There are much better authorly lines but I think this is most amusing:

Venita stuck out the length of her tongue, and then withdrew it just as quickly when Carl screeched: “Oh my god.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Shrieked Venita behind horrified butterfly hands.

“Oh my god. What wouldn’t I give to have a tongue like that? Show me again. Come on Tea-and-toast, show me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” demanded Venita, then stuck out her tongue for inspection once more.

“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong dear heart. It’s exquisite. I’ve never seen a tongue like it. And let me tell you, I’ve seen plenty of tongue in my time.”

Venita giggled at this last, the depth of colour darkening her complexion, her embarrassment, evaporating along with the steam from her tea.

Gauche

 

[Black Tulip]

Thanks McKenna - see vanity . . . any author LOVES to be complimented

I hope you don't mind Charley, but I like to borrow your words. Couldn't have said it better.

 

[lucky-E-leven]

Lou Lou,
I do so love this...why, I'm not sure, but it grabs me and screams loudly in my ear.

Leather reclining chairs were dragged along the metal surface, producing a sound that can only be equated to tortured souls pleading for their death.

Mack, I like this thread because it gets me thinking of creating better sentences. I often move so quickly through getting the ideas down on paper/screen that the story telling takes over the potential for craftily created sentences and word combos.

Me:
...though it was still very cool Tina had become turned on and was suddenly feeling hot. To accommodate the heat that was creeping up her neck she unzipped the jacket to her belly button and sucked in sharply with the contact of biting wind on her warm olive skin. The smell of burning fuel combined with the sound of a whining Japanese engine were exciting enough, but add to those two things the intense vibrations between your legs and you had an all out one person orgy. Not to mention, forty-five degree air rushing across your tits at a hundred and fifteen miles an hour was almost as good as having a hot wet mouth covering every square inch of both of them at once. Yes, she decided, hauling ass on two wheels was very nearly better than sex and since that wasn’t an option for her at this point a good hard ride would do her some good. She felt horny enough now to get off without even touching herself, and was quite certain it could be achieved in this manner of riding...

I know...I need work, but wanted to participate and don't have time to see if there's anything better.

~lucky (un-artsy)

 

[Black Tulip]

I often move so quickly through getting the ideas down on paper/screen that the story telling takes over the potential for craftily created sentences and word combos.
~lucky (un-artsy)

Sorry, but I couldn't let this go by. The underscoring is mine.

un-artsy?

 

[snooper]

The background is a story of a serendipitous meeting between a woman and three men which ends up (where else) in a gang fuck. Later back home she goes to bed for the night.
The favourite sentence I have written, and the only sentence ever to get me a really flattering feedback of its own was:

Wondering, in her semi-dreaming state, if having a father and two sons all at once was incest, she quietly drifted off to sleep with a slight smile on her lips …

PS The feedback said, "Worth a five for the last sentence alone."

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[lucky-E-leven]

No apologies, Mack! Fun thread and it's cool to see a little bit of everyone's style. Thanks.

~lucky

 

[Boota]

I found another sentnence, the last one in this paragraph, that I really like. This is also from Mr. Undesirable, concerning a characters guitar tone. It's probably the best description of a sound I have ever come up with.


"He had a Marshall stack, so he sounded really bad, really loud. Tony used to crank his lows and highs all the way up and cut out his mid-range completely. Between the screaming, uncontrolled stretches of feedback were the choppy, percussive thuds of the strings being waylaid. The best way I can describe his sound is this; try to imagine what it would sound like to beat a moose to death with a bag of cats."


I agree Lucky, this is a fun thread.

 

[NoJo]

This is how I started the chapter "Miss Ely", from my autobiography "Seven Modes". Miss Ely was my piano teacher when I was a kid.


Rose Ely sat on a kitchen chair next to my piano stool for half an hour a week for seven years, and farted.

 

[Guest]

Rose Ely sat on a kitchen chair next to my piano stool for half an hour a week for seven years, and farted.

Love it, and want to read the rest (at least until you reach adolescence .

Perdita

 

[NoJo]

Here's the part where I reach adolescence (thirteen years old):

I knew I was due for my growth spurt some months before it happened: One night after a wank, which was still then a novelty, I found a tiny, clear drop of slime on the end of my dick. Could this be the “cum” all the girls and boys kept talking about? But it was neither white nor foamy. I’d seen dried cum: It was nine or ten feet up on the wall of one of the boys’ toilets at school – with a pencilled arrow pointing to it and signed “Ben E. – 12/4/1972”.

So I wasn’t sure if this was the right stuff. On a hunch, I smeared the drop on a slide and looked at it through my microscope. And I saw them: A lively batch of Joe Subramian’s spermatozoa. But the dick they escaped from was a little boy’s dick.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Guest]

Here's the part where I reach adolescence (thirteen years old):
... But the dick they escaped from was a little boy’s dick.

That is a lovely and moving sentence. Thanks. P.

 

[Wills]

Joe

That's beauty.

 

[herecomestherain]

Great thread.

I've just posted my first piece of fiction to Lit and there a couple of passages that I'm fond of.The artist is the narrator.

I'd spent six very pleasurable hours becoming intimately acquainted with every muscle, sinew, crevice, and curve of this man. I'd studied every wrinkle, curl, crease, and dimple of him. The very nature of his flesh had been indelibly drawn in my brain. I knew his body so well that I felt that I could have confidently described the exact position of each of his vital organs. It sounds ridiculous but a trained artist doesn't just see the surface, we're taught to look deeper, and of course I'd observed him as an artist first and foremost and as a woman second... well, most of the time anyway.

************************

Nick's hands caressed and lifted my breasts, tweaked at my nipples, pinching and pulling hard at the flesh, sending wonderful shock waves of pleasure to my cunt. My wet cunt. There's a moment when I'm fucking with a beautiful man, his hard cock plunging deeply inside of me, when I'm right on the edge of exploding that that genteel pussy becomes a cunt. A raw, hot wet place. The centre of the universe, where all the blood in my body congregates to swell the flesh, to tighten the hold, to feed the muscles, that squeeze and grip until it is genteel no more. Just pure animal flesh desperately seeking pleasure and satisfaction.

 

[Black Tulip]

McKenna,

Your question triggered something unexpected. I knew exactly where to find a sentence I like. In a story not posted, well not in the original language. I translated in Dutch and posted it in Non-English. It is my lowest rating story so far.

Guess what, I'm posting the original in English as well. I can't wait to find out if it will be doing just as bad.

Off to post.

I have posted it and what do you know. It's doing a lot better in English. Not great, mind you, but better.

 

[Carl East]

I was so pleased with this line, I had to read it back to myself several times. lol It's from my Hell's Gate series.

The girls looked like rag dolls as they were repeatedly assaulted, and the groans from the beasts throat were saliva curdling moans of bestial lust.

Carl