A Nerve.com Bad Erotica Contest champion comes clean

I hadn’t thought about this for a while but in 2003, on a lark, I entered the Nerve.com “Bad Erotica Contest.” I wrote an entry in about 30 minutes of divinely bad erotic inspiration and sent it in. I didn’t even give it a title or include my name, just the name that came on my e-mail “Bill.”

I forgot about it for a while until I got an e-mail from Nerve telling me I was one of the finalists and to check the Web site to see where I placed. I called my wife over, we checked the site, and lo and behold, I was the winner. I got $500 from it, which took about six months to receive, but they sent it to me. It was a fun experience.

The opening line seemed to really capture everyone’s imagination:

“She woke with the taste of his turgid penis on her lips …”

Some sites that mentioned it:

Cruel.com

Swoon

Boing Boing

Suburban Blight

i-Boy.com

And some others. I even just noticed that writer Steve Almond, one of the judges, gave a reading of it, along with the other winners. Trippy.

“That was so fun (to judge the contest). It was terrible, but so good. Good terrible. “I awoke with the taste of his turgid penis still in my mouth.” So bad it’s brilliant.” — Steve Almond

I don’t know where to find the whole story, except at Nerve.com, but you need a subscription. Trust me, it was truly hideous. But, you know, I meant it to be that way.

I just wanted to come clean, as it were.

Edit: Check that, I just found the whole story, saved by one of Gene Merrill’s “Constant State of Flux” friends, Adam. You can find it here, if you can stomach these sort of things.

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.

“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.

–WKW

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