Well, if you want to, though I don't think baseball sex metaphor is going to have the nerdiness quotient I require for "endearingly bad."

Hmm. I may have to try and find something that matches the nerdiness quotient.

(Haven't seen Angel yet. Afeared of being spoiled. Clearly searching for something to occupy my time.)

Ah. Yeah, I've been there. Feel free to entertain yourself by looking up endearingly nerdy bad sex scenes for me, if it helps. (Gosh, aren't I a giver?)

Want me to go back in the story and find the one with the baseball metaphor?

"He threw his balls over her strike zone and slid into home."??

This isn't the one I was looking for, but it's still amusing. (Not particularly work safe.)

His eyes almost transparent in their greenish tint sported a hint of feline quality that matched perfectly his catlike movements. Nikita was semi-consciously dreaming, reliving in her reverie a combination of memories from their first time together as she haunted his first time at ‘bat’, making herself a part of the history that defined the man.

---

he was the harlot laying open to his untainted spirit raking with her sparkly stare the perfect body of then… of now. Michael was an illustration of male perfection; his angled muscle exposed to the elements proclaimed desire, willingness and so much more – promise. The age difference inexplicably dissipating, her desire making her a novice in the business of lust and after revealing her observations by the utterance of adjectives she couldn’t contain, smiling she sighed. Her seasoning and expertise surfacing as she called to the young man.

She licked her pouty lips, blinked a couple of times and sighed heavily as his mouth reached for her thigh, nipping gently as the soft skin that neighbored her engorged parts. Burying his face in her zenith he lapped tactfully feeling for each protuberance of the entire slick surface that defined her right now. She grabbed a handful of wet grass yanking it brutally from the soaked-earth and came tumbling over all the restrains she had to protect as a pro in the world's oldest profession.

(Note: As far as I know, Nikita is not actually a whore in this story.)

---

She was pushing her ass, trying hard to control the speed for her climaxes were coming too soon, too fast, a loosing battle for she would loose all control when the busy finger now purposely and expertly manipulated the on/off button that controlled her desire.

---

She sat on him hard, he let out a grunt, she rested her hands on the grass, her head thrown back in abandonment and also to cause the rod to stretch and bend inside her reaching for her G spot. Michael steered her with his hands digging into her hips, squeezing her waist, turning right and then left.

“Rid ‘em cowboy.” She exclaimed as they both succumbed to the pleasure and came. Pure, unadulterated, basic instinct, intrinsically raw and desirous lust, shared by two beautiful people in a wet golf course.

he lapped tactfully

How does one do this, out of curiosity?

“Rid ‘em cowboy.” She exclaimed as they both succumbed to the pleasure and came.

Of what, lice?

Pure, unadulterated, basic instinct, intrinsically raw and desirous lust, shared by two beautiful people in a wet golf course.

Oh. My. God. This would fit in perfectly in the Bulwer-Lytton contest.

Pure, unadulterated, basic instinct, intrinsically raw and desirous lust, shared by two beautiful people in a wet golf course.

BWAH! Okay, that's wonderful, and has added joy to my morning. Hee hee hee. I'd tag it, except that would be unkind.

Also, seriously, Michael is just not that attractive. I mean, he has no facial expressions!

Dear Christ, sometimes I think I should write a new Nikita story JUST BECAUSE. Even my crappiest crap wasn't this craptacular.