Bend over Madam and take delivery of a steaming hot Blog!

Today I wanted to post something fun and incredibly stupid. I want to offer you the worst and most pointless romance blog I’ve ever written, and I challenge you to do even worse! It’s been a very long winter and we all need a chance to lighten up.

(I’m so bored with myself I could cry!)

I’m sinking low today just because I can and I’m counting on you to sink with me. I wrote the worst most offensive romance dialog and scenario I could think of at this moment and inflicted it on you. Poor grammar, offensive attitudes, typos and thoughtless dialog were done willfully.

Exhibit A:  A bluff pirate’s tale semen at sea.

“Ha, ha, ha I don’t give a heck of yer ah virgin lassie, I’m going to peek in your porthole and force you to ride mi bucking lower deck whether ya like it or not.” Captain Muskysac the much dreaded handsome bastard pirate of the inky blue undulating ocean, lorded menacingly over his newest captive, conveniently kidnapped on the eve of her wedding, the wistful jewel of his heart since childhood, the beautifully, delicately innocent Miss Ashley Roseheather.

Captain Muskysac insolently puffed his broad chest forward thrusting his man-nipples three feet apart, kicked his boots astride and stood thusly with his fist firmly planted on his insinuating lean hips and barked. “On your knees lass I’m going to spoil you!”

“There’s been a slightly awkward miscommunication.” Ashley glanced upward and mumbled softly through rubied rosebud lips. “I’m not a virgin…”

Captain Muskysac frowned. His posture wilted. “What do mean yer not a virgin? I had a whole deflowerment routine of horribly protracted degradation painstakingly planned for you. I was going to win your heart by conquering your frail womanly form, and easily shocked sensibilities. I went to a great deal of effort. Manacles were polished, Neverwash Walter is eagerly waiting in the next cabin to shout rude, inappropriate comments and leer over the entire sordid event. I’ll be honest with you, this is quite a bitter little let down.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m not a virgin but there nothing to be done about it now. What about a sassy whiskey-voiced, salty-tongued, been abandoned by love but has a heart of gold, hip-swishing sea wench? Could you use one of those? I adore life-jarring forced seductions and humiliating degradation on the high seas.” Ashley’s limpid baby blue eyes bulgingly pleaded. “It’s not too late to have a good time, is it? I’ll just behave flustered and witless and we’ll put the whole embarrassing misunderstanding behind us. You’ll never notice I’m not a virgin. What do say my spicy pepperoni—is the party on?”

Captain Muskysac stared dejectedly at the toes of his tall boots. “I don’t know—Its’ not quite the same. I take pride in my arrogantly aberrant behavior. Menacing maidens is an art form. I’m not really prepared for an experienced woman. I don’t want to just walk through the act half-heartedly.”

“Oh what the hell, I’m starting without you.” Ashley shouted. “Nay, nay dark ruthless master don’t burst my preciously treasured carefully guarded and saved for sacred marriage maidenhead and ruin my chances for a peaceful, productive life and soak my virgin tight-as-a-kidskin-glove, pouting rosebud, woman’s secret cottage in the glen, quimmy with your steamy hot juices! Spare me lava hot love god. I beg of you!”

Captain Muskysac’s expression was appalled. “You do realize Neverwash and others can hear you in the next cabin?” He whispered a tense warning.

“I don’t care! Lash me to yer throbbing purple yardarm, Hop’n jack me, Whip the pony, butter the biscuits, take me if you must, grease me with deck-wax pin me flat and ravish me on your thick commanding masthead. Your mysteriously threatening knobby turgidness compels me to surrender!”

“My turgidness?”

“Yes, your stony rock hard as iron straight as a plank of wood, turgidness. Shove it in me, lord of my mattress! For you, my dewy quim is like a fragrant rose shyly opening it’s delicate silky pink petals to the first fair day of spring sunshine that we call love. My naughty lady slipper pouts, longs, desires, drools and oozes with love nectar waiting for you to take me again and again and again and again…

“All right already!” He announced as he tore at his laces and evacuated his threateningly turgid, inhumanly proportioned, mapped with veins, sweaty, salty manhood from his skintight period-correct breeches and let it thrust in all its twitching glory toward her startled face. “I’m going to slip you the sausage and mash the potatoes. Then I’m going to spill man-gravy all over your plate, and let it all soak in the sink until morning. I doubt you’ll walk upright for a week!”

“Nay, if I ever walk again!” She screamed ridiculously and ducked under the bedcovers. “You’re so massively, hugely big! The sheer girthy width of your tremendously engorged spit–red-hot-rivets-wang-hammer is enough to kill a girl. The impressive volume of your man-tool leaves me humbled, awed yet strangely drawn to the danger-tinged mystery of its wrinkled foreskin. Your balls are big too.” She sighed sweetly.

“So is your plump round bottom madam! I think I’ll take a brisk palm to task against those firm, proud peaches and paddle a happy tune on your pink drum skins before I lave my tongue between your warm, wet woman folds and send the fire truck to hose down the flames.”

He did and they lived happily ever after. The End.

Wow! I feel a lot better. Thank you for enduring that rant. I might actually be able to do little real writing today.

I do sincerely ask, nay I beseech you (If you’re still willing to talk to me.) to please leave a comment, a horrible phrase or inappropriate romance term that makes you cringe. I’d love to hear them—I live for this kind of thing!

XXOO Kat