Serve It Up Hot and Steamy!

[Sunstone]

Write and post passages from the world's greatest unpublished romance novels!

 

[Sunstone]

That evening, and following their supper of cold blood pudding, the two of them sat by their fireplace for an hour, each in his or her own chair, each with his or her own book, as was their custom most evenings. And there should be nothing out of the ordinary for the author of this novel to mention about them, except that Henry, at some point that evening, looked up from his tome to say to Ann (with a measure of feeling in his voice that was unusual to Henry), "You are by no means wretched, Ann."

"Don't be a fool, Henry", Ann replied after the moment it took for her to regain her composure, for the remark had greatly moved her, "You presume to much!"

The couple now -- for the warmth of Henry's remark had made them both realize they were indeed a couple now -- the couple quietly returned to their books, deeply satisfied.

 

[Sunstone]

Within moments, John found himself improbably transitioned from his respectably lucrative role as a senior executive of the Snerkson Company, to the raw, lubricated sex machine that ultimately lies beneath all human facades. He could stand it no longer. He must have Susan. He moved towards her now, held back only by the impressive weight of the credit cards in his wallet. Then, for a moment, he felt profound self-doubt. Would she be willing? What if she rejected him? But he quickly overcame his doubts by recalling that he was the owner of an expensive Rolex watch. Surely she would notice it! Once again he advanced towards her, confident this time, his pelvis thrust forward...

 

[Sha'irullah]

I actually have written some horrific romances that usually involve excessive amounts of needless violence, more int he Guro category of literature .

~Title~

Heaven's Gate

~Description~

This story involves the tales of Amanda Kissenger a 29 year old girl from Sweden and her capture by Malik Kabir Sha'ir the Sultan of Wathanistani Empire. The events take place in an alternate timeline in the Syrian,Iraqi and Turkish areas. The year is 2226 by the way.

~Location of Passage~

In the private chambers of Sultan Malik Sha'ir

~Passage~

*will not write here but it mostly contains spanking, anti-feminism and male superiority*​

 

[Sunstone]

Could it be the two men were about to fight over her? It could! She reviewed for her own understanding what had just happened: Jonas had called Anthony, "a ladybug of questionable appetites", and Anthony -- dear, poor Anthony! -- had been at a total loss to respond.

"I must not be too critical of Anthony. His lack of verbal skills are not really his fault", she reminded herself, "The itinerant toenail painters who raised him denied him any chance to attend a proper school."

Suddenly, her interior angst ridden thoughts were interrupted! Anthony had responded! "Yeah! Well, I might be a ladybug or whatever you call it, but you're another one!".

She began to tremble. What could she do to stop the men? She was only one woman, and they were so big! Abruptly, she thought of something, "Neither one of you", she began in a voice that was more confident sounding than she actually felt, "Neither one shall possess carnal knowledge of me if either of you dares to start a fight!"

"WTF?", asked Anthony...

 

[Draka]

I use to write such things for fun many years ago. They tended to get passed around quite a bit amongst friends. However, due to the content of my writing...I don't think this is the appropriate subforum for me to take it back up again. LoL I may think about writing something for another subforum...maybe

 

[Sunstone]

I use to write such things for fun many years ago. They tended to get passed around quite a bit amongst friends. However, due to the content of my writing...I don't think this is the appropriate subforum for me to take it back up again. LoL I may think about writing something for another subforum...maybe

Cool!

 

[Sunstone]

At some point during the meeting, her mind had crossed the line from her customary sharp focus on the business at hand to idle thoughts of Jeff. "Why am I always thinking of him", she wondered, "He's just a man, and his only distinction is he's more impossible than most men."

But she knew it wasn't true. Not entirely. Jeff was...was.. something more to her than merely the accounting department's single most despised jerk. Certainly, he was that. No one, not even she, could deny that Jeff was a jerk. At least not after he'd been caught drawing a crude penis on the final, wet-stained page of Louise Franson's dog-eared copy of her favorite novel, Savage Love.

"I know Jeff can draw so much better than that", she mused, deeply puzzled, "what motivated him to make the penis so crude? I guess it really must be true he's a jerk. A more refined man would draw a more refined penis. I'm sure of it."

"Well", she thought again, "I don't care! NO ONE, NOT EVEN JEFF HIMSELF, CAN STOP ME FROM LOVING HIM!"

Abruptly, she realized the whole boardroom was smiling knowingly at her. "Oh god", she realized, "I've been talking out loud!"

Thinking quickly, she decided to poof. It was the only truly reasonable thing she could do to distract her board members from the awful, frightening, but strangely intoxicating, truth that she, the president and CEO of Snuckson's Motor Parts, had fallen deeply, profoundly, and foolishly in love with a jerk.

 

[Sunstone]

Robert could not sleep. Outside, the violent thunderstorm broke the hour into moments, and the moments into seconds. Each second held an eternity in itself. And each eternity seemed to chide him with his own ultimate meaninglessness. Robert stirred once again in his sheets.

"I am nothing to Vanessa. Beautiful, kind Vanessa", he thought despairingly for perhaps the hundredth time that night, for perhaps the thousandth time that entire day. "And there seems not a thing I can do about it."

But he knew, or he sensed, that down that lane lay only the emotional oblivion of hopelessness. "I must not allow myself to feel hopeless. There must be something to give me hope. If only I could discover it!"

Yet, all that came to mind was the careless joy he'd felt earlier that sunlit afternoon when seeing Vanessa's breasts bouncing in her white, lightly woven, cotton blouse as she ran across the flower strewn meadow to be first to ravage and engorge the delicious foods spread out on the park table at the church picnic they'd attended.

Suddenly, an idea came to him, an idea perhaps midwifed by the violence of the thunder outside, "She loves food! Adores food! Why have I not seen it before! She's a pig for food,and will do anything to have her way with it. It's her religion! So I shall...I shall resolve to become a master chef. She must notice me then!"

"And to seal matters", he further reflected, "I shall appeal to her religious nature, and become a Minister of the Deity, too." With that, Robert resolutely set his feet upon the awful path that would eventually bring the future lovers to their terrifying fates. And yet, not before the two had learned to hump like rabbits...

 

[Skwim]

~Title~
Wine Frosted Lips on the Tides of Bliss
A C-chord romance within the strings of broken harp.


~Description~

The insouciance of a young, aspiring harp player of the gay nineties leads her into
the arms of a sapphic counterpart from the flute section.


~Location of passage~

The creamery and ice storage room of the Udderly Devine Farm's cow barn.


~Passage~
​

"you've strung me along long enough" Thea said. A pleading challenge caught half way up her throbbing throat. "Y-you, you, you have plucked my last g-string." A discomforting silence descended over them as Marla fought back the tears of remembrance that harkened to her "first time" with Hans Brockensson the elder; another of her many aborted romances. Caught off guard, she had yielded to her sexual awakenings as Hans yodeled a nasal Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home in 3/4 time. Heck with "Bill Baily and why he won't come home she remembered thinking. Tonight's the the night. Let 'er rip Hans. And Hans did just that; ripping her bodice away from her throbbing breast---Alma always regretted not buying two breast enhancing exercisers: "cheap, cheap, cheap" she mentally chastised herself. But the thought only occupied her momentarily as Hans ripped through her bodice and into her hand sewn, double-stitched crinoline under garment---Mum had always called it her last line of defense. Plunging his rough farm hand into the dark nest of . . "E--OUCH!" He screamed. Pulling out his bitten, bloody hand missing its thumb. What the hell was lurking in those nether regions of pleasure and pain? Alma too was also a bit surprised that Muffin, her pet . . . .
​

 

[BeckyRose1998]

Title: Thunderstorms in Colorado
Description: 25 year old Rosey Lynn and her husband, Genesis, struggling through several thunderstorms in Colorado. The thunderstorms won't go away anytime soon. (Sorry, I can't think of description)


Genesis's eyes dodged Rosey's.
"Rosey!" Genesis clamored. "You cannot go out there. I won't let you." His dark blue eyes now looked into her blue-gray eyes.
"You can't stop me," Rosey yelled.
Genesis grabbed Rosey's frail arms. His thick lips pressed against hers.
Rosey pushed him away. "What the hell was that for?!"
"You know, Rosey, you're cute when you're annoyed," Genesis mused.
"I'm leaving now."
"Rosey, that thunderstorm could kill you."
"Does this look like the face of someone who cares?"
Rosey grabbed her bags and exited.
Should I run after her? "No. She'll be back." She always did.

Within 10 minutes, Rosey ran back inside.
"Oh, Genesis! I'm sorry I walked out!" Rosey threw her arms around Genesis. "I promise I won't ever do that again!"
Genesis let go of the crying blond. "Rosey, you know I love you, right?"
"Well, yes, isn't that why you married me?"
"Yes. And you know that if anything happened--Ah what the hell?" Genesis picked Rosey up and led her to the bedroom.

 

[Sunstone]

"Why must I be so plain!", Tiffany silently demanded while tears wet her face in the bedroom mirror, "It doesn't make sense, and it's never made sense, that men just don't notice us -- the plain ones. Plain is not ugly, and, besides there's so much more to everything than just looks. There's...there's...why, there's the cut of a woman's panties, too! I'll wager my entire next batch of delicious home-made Prozac that Suzanne Robertson's panties are granny cuts!"

Despite the profound attraction Tiffany felt to imagining her arch-rival in ugly panties, she knew her imagination must be false. Suzanne Robertson was a stunning woman. Heads swiveled like weather vanes in a windstorm when Suzanne walked into a room. Women as beautiful as Suzanne simply don't wear ugly panties, Tiffany reasoned at last. The tears flowed again.

For awhile, perhaps for too long of a while to be good for her, Tiffany sat in front of her mirror in silent, tearful misery. At last it came to her: The real problem wasn't Suzanne. The real problem was Ted. Wasn't it obvious, now that she had thought about it? Ted was a shallow man -- an extremely shallow man -- who would never in his life notice a woman as plain as Tiffany. It just wasn't in his nature.

With that single thought, all that Tiffany knew about Ted began coming back to her. Everything she'd seen him do or had heard him say. And, remarkably, it all fit. It all fit her hypothesis to a T. It must really be true!

If anyone else had come to the same revelation as Tiffany came to that evening, they surely would have dumped any desire they felt for Ted on the spot. But Tiffany was an usually contrary person. You couldn't say to her that a falcon was in the air without her feeling a deeply rooted and emotionally pressing need to contradict you by claiming that it was really burrowing underground like a prairie dog. She'd always been that way. Contrary.

Time had passed and Tiffany's tears had dried, but she still sat in front of her mirror. Only now she was scheming. She would marry him. There just had to be a way. It simply hadn't occurred to her that she could just drop the matter, for that would not have been Tiffany. No, that would have been someone else...

 

[BeckyRose1998]

Jen looked into Phil's eyes. "Why don't you love you anymore?"
Phil's eyes darkened. "I love you. Why would you think I wouldn't?"
"You're not home anymore!" Jen's green eyes welled up with hot tears. "If you're cheating, you can tell me now!"
Phil looked down at the floor. He was cheating, but he didn't want Jen to be even more devastated. But he had to tell the truth.
"Yes, Jen, I'm cheating."
"I knew it!"
"But! But, it's because you don't want to do it anymore!"
Jen's eyes glanced at the ceiling. It was true. Sex just didn't interest her that much anymore.
"Phil, I...I just don't like sex that much anymore!"
"Why didn't you tell me that before, Jen? Is it the way I do it?"
Jen nodded. Phil glared at the Grandfather Clock in the far corner of the room. Jen looked into Phil's brown eyes.
"I'm sorry, Phil." Jen grabbed her bag and kissed Phil's cheek. "I'll be in Mexico. Have a nice life."
Phil grabbed Jen and gave her the most passionate kiss she'd gotten since they've been married.

 

[Sunstone]

"Oh! Oh! Oh, God!", she gasped. The word "God" had slipped out. It wasn't really her fault that it had. But she hated herself now.

"God!" She couldn't help it. She could think of nothing original to say. She...

"God! Oh! Oh, God!" Damn it! Just damn it! She was an author, for god sakes. An important author. The author the Times Book Review had called...

"God!" ...had called, "Simply the most creative writer currently on...

"God! God! God!" ...on American soil." Yet all she could think to say during the most intense pleasuring of her...

"GOD!" ...of her ever was a...

"OH GOD!" All she could think to moan was a cliche. How she hated herself!

 

[BeckyRose1998]

Her eyes were bugging. Everything was in perfect harmony. She was with the love of her life-a sexy Cuban-American. She had an adorable hamster, Rex. And a crazy Golden Retriever named Bob.
"Oh..." she whimpered under his touch. He'd been the best sex she'd had in a long time.
"Steph," he moaned.
"Carlos," she muttered his real name.
He stopped briefly. He looked at the clock. "Dammit," he muttered.
She looked up at him. She could make out his sexy face even in the dark. He stood up and went into the shower.

 

[Revoltingest]

It was a cavernous loft, decorated in a shades-of-gray style which in New York would mean great wealth & power, but anywhere else would smell of bleak industrial decline. In the middle of this contrived wasteland, a lone figure stood. He was gaunt, standing fully erect & clad in a skin tight black shirt, complemented by black pants, black socks & black shoes, as though he were consciously mimicking Wolfe's social x-ray. He stood haughtily at the single piece of furniture, a neatly made bed with taught gray sheets & pillows. The woman on the bed looked starkly out of place, wearing a Japanese school girl's uniform sans shoes, her knee high socks covering her splayed legs, short plaid skirt with snow white panties attempting to peek out, & a matching white blouse under a scarlet blazer, barely able to contain the pneumatic pulchritude within. His wide thin mouth hid clenched teeth, so when he spoke it was with a dry & dictatorial voice. "You may call me Carlos Wirey. No word of this shall ever be spoken." She maintained her coquettish repose, eyes widening at his stern gaze & commands, & intrigued at the prospect of servicing the most powerful man in the world. But she was a pro. Her voice betrayed none of this, in its lilting Japanese flavored English sprinkled liberally with high pitched staccato laughter. "You may call me Draka, sir."

 

[Draka]

It was a cavernous loft, decorated in a shades-of-gray style which in New York would mean great wealth & power, but anywhere else would smell of bleak industrial decline. In the middle of this contrived wasteland, a lone figure stood. He was gaunt, standing fully erect & clad in a skin tight black shirt, complemented by black pants, black socks & black shoes, as though he were consciously mimicking Wolfe's social x-ray. He stood haughtily at the single piece of furniture, a neatly made bed with taught gray sheets & pillows. The woman on the bed looked starkly out of place, wearing a Japanese school girl's uniform sans shoes, her knee high socks covering her splayed legs, short plaid skirt with snow white panties attempting to peek out, & a matching white blouse under a scarlet blazer, barely able to contain the pneumatic pulchritude within. His wide thin mouth hid clenched teeth, so when he spoke it was with a dry & dictatorial voice. "You may call me Carlos Wirey. No word of this shall ever be spoken." She maintained her coquettish repose, eyes widening at his stern gaze & commands, & intrigued at the prospect of servicing the most powerful man in the world. But she was a pro. Her voice betrayed none of this, in its lilting Japanese flavored English sprinkled liberally with high pitched staccato laughter. "You may call me Draka, sir."

*smack smack ...smack smack smack*

At least with Becky's Jen and Phil one I can assume she wasn't referring to actual people here because I don't think she actually knows some of our real names (though maybe she does, I could be wrong). It was just freaky coincidence. Funny one, but still coincidence. But you sir...that was just wrong

 

[Draka]

Okay, I will do one here and save the "erotic" stuff for another time. I will still try to do one of those eventually and place it in the Eros room when I do.

.......

Carolyn Chase sat down and leaned back against the tree and listened to the snap of the campfire. Not exactly able to find a comfortable position, her thoughts began to get the better of her. The things I do for you Patricia. Honestly, you really had to run off? To the middle of nowhere? Over your louse of a husband? Had to go get yourself lost didn't you? Now here I am chasing after you...with HIM.

Carolyn's gaze fixed upon Ridge, watching him as he added more wood to the fire. His shoulder length coal black hair falling across his face each time he bent over. God how she loved that hair. Men back east would never let their hair grow like that. Then again, men back home didn't seem to come as built and bronzed as he was either. Ok Patty, I guess I see some allure to the frontier life after all. She thought as a little smile twitched the right side of her lips. As he turned to face and approach her she took in how the firelight danced along and lit up his gorgeous face. A sculptor couldn't carve anything so masculine yet so beautiful at the same time. The high cheekbones, Roman nose, those deep set near black eyes, and those lips. Lord, how she kept thinking what it must be like to kiss those lips.

"It will get rather cold tonight." Ridge said as he knelt down in front of her. "Are you quite sure you will be warm enough with what you brought?"

"Oh, I think I'll be fine. You've made quite a good fire, that will help I'm sure." Carolyn thought she could think of much better ways of keeping warm this night with this man, but then, a lady wouldn't dare say such things now would she? Damn her upbringing.

As he stood again and began to ready their sleeping arrangements she went ahead and let down her hair. Long auburn tresses fell in waves across her shoulders and down her back. As she ran her fingers through her lengthy mane to clear it of any tangle she spared a glance in his direction. Was he watching her? Her heart fluttered a moment as she realized that he had stopped mid-movement to just watch her. She smiled at him. He started as if caught a moment, gave a sheepish grin, then quickly returned to what he was doing. Well what do you know? Carolyn's little smile to herself on the right side of her lips returned. Interesting.

 

[Revoltingest]

Okay, I will do one here and save the "erotic" stuff for another time. I will still try to do one of those eventually and place it in the Eros room when I do.

.......

Carolyn Chase sat down and leaned back against the tree and listened to the snap of the campfire. Not exactly able to find a comfortable position, her thoughts began to get the better of her. The things I do for you Patricia. Honestly, you really had to run off? To the middle of nowhere? Over your louse of a husband? Had to go get yourself lost didn't you? Now here I am chasing after you...with HIM.

Carolyn's gaze fixed upon Ridge, watching him as he added more wood to the fire. His shoulder length coal black hair falling across his face each time he bent over. God how she loved that hair. Men back east would never let their hair grow like that. Then again, men back home didn't seem to come as built and bronzed as he was either. Ok Patty, I guess I see some allure to the frontier life after all. She thought as a little smile twitched the right side of her lips. As he turned to face and approach her she took in how the firelight danced along and lit up his gorgeous face. A sculptor couldn't carve anything so masculine yet so beautiful at the same time. The high cheekbones, Roman nose, those deep set near black eyes, and those lips. Lord, how she kept thinking what it must be like to kiss those lips.

"It will get rather cold tonight." Ridge said as he knelt down in front of her. "Are you quite sure you will be warm enough with what you brought?"

"Oh, I think I'll be fine. You've made quite a good fire, that will help I'm sure." Carolyn thought she could think of much better ways of keeping warm this night with this man, but then, a lady wouldn't dare say such things now would she? Damn her upbringing.

As he stood again and began to ready their sleeping arrangements she went ahead and let down her hair. Long auburn tresses fell in waves across her shoulders and down her back. As she ran her fingers through her lengthy mane to clear it of any tangle she spared a glance in his direction. Was he watching her? Her heart fluttered a moment as she realized that he had stopped mid-movement to just watch her. She smiled at him. He started as if caught a moment, gave a sheepish grin, then quickly returned to what he was doing. Well what do you know? Carolyn's little smile to herself on the right side of her lips returned. Interesting.

You've great talent for bodice rippers!
It makes mine read like the operator's manual for a lawn mower.
Mmmmmm...lawwwnnnn mowwwwerrrrrrsss.....

 

[Draka]

You've great talent for bodice rippers!
It makes mine read like the operator's manual for a lawn mower.
Mmmmmm...lawwwnnnn mowwwwerrrrrrsss.....

Thank you! I like to write.