Well, the people have spoken. You have also throbbed, pulsed and dripped. Copiously. Out of 500 entries for our first Bad Erotica Contest, we have breathlessly plucked these, the finalists in the Original Erotica and Found Erotica categories. The Grand Prize winner in the Original category is $500 wealthier. The others will receive a number of riches, including free Nerve Premium memberships and an advance copy of our new book, The Big Bang: Nerve's Guide to the New Sexual Universe. (Pssst! Why not order your own copy today?)

Special thanks to our Celebrity Guest Judge, Steve Almond. He's a frequent Nerve contributor and author of the story collection My Life in Heavy Metal. Please click here to read Steve's twelve-step plan for writing sex scenes that are actually good.





ORIGINAL EROTICA CATEGORY

GRAND PRIZE WINNER

Untitled
by "Bill"

She woke with the taste of his turgid penis on her lips. Even though he was gone, his juices and manhood lingered in her mind and on her cloying lips like Vaseline. The events of the previous night came racing back to her, clogging her mind with visions of ecstasy.
    She had never known a man like Julio before. When he came and boldly sat next to her, the musky scent of his manliness turned her from tigress to gentle kitten. She belonged to him before his supple buttocks pressed aggressively against the tattered faux-leather covering of the barstool.
    After sitting nursing his drink for what seemed like a hundred eternities to her already soaked vaginal cavity, he leaned toward her to speak. Her massive, sentimental breasts heaved in sexual anticipation. His breath, a combination of lust and malt liquor, intoxicated her nearly as much as his words.
    

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"My name is Julio, Julio Gottstein," he said, his smoldering eyes aflame in the victory he would soon celebrate. "And soon, I shall have you."
    Her heart pattered and swayed with passion as his rough hand took hers, and led her from the bar to her sparse, yet highly sexual studio apartment upstairs. Her eyes, clouded in lust, could see nothing but his strong, opulent frame — though he was easily four inches shorter than her, he seemed monumental in all aspects of his being.
    Once inside, he wasted no time in taking what was rightfully his, pulling her close for a long, moist and humid kiss. Their tongues intertwined like snakes slithering in a dance of forbidden love. His well-trained hands ripped open her T-shirt and smoothly undid her bra with only minor help from her. Her pendulous breasts swayed in anticipation as his toothless mouth gummed her large, perpetually hard nipples to a near exploding peak. She leaned her head back in submission, allowing this perfect man to claim what was his.
    She could not remember how or when this skillful man removed her girdle, panties and Levis, but soon she was naked before him. His powerful hands and majestic seven fingers pushed on her shoulders. She did not resist. Could not resist. She went to her knees and was face-to-face with his glistening, moist cockhead. His instrument of devastation was so hard and rigid, it made her flush with the need to consume it. It was as if his cock glowed with ethereal goodness.
    The first taste of his glans was like honey to a ravenous bear to her, filling her with its sweet, slick nectar. She gave him all she could. She was his bitch, his whore, his conquest. She took his entire love muscle in her mouth, something she had never done before. That was her gift to him. With his dong of desire nearly touching the back of her throat, she suckled him to a hardness that would make a sixteen-year-old athletic boy weep tears of envy.
    His climax came quickly and furiously, his sex sauce sliding down her throat like slimy alien invaders, guiding down her highly sexual esophagus to her creamy stomach. His authoritative hands pushed her away, and pushed his sanguine monster of mating back in to his torn khakis.
    His mission complete and desire sated, he stepped back, and in the cocksure way that was his alone, threw a crumpled, sex-stained $10 bill at her quivering, kneeling frame. He left her room and her life, the victor who had claimed his spoils. And he left her with memories of lust she could never quench.

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