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.

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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.)

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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.

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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.

She snuggled further into the red satin linen covering the round bed and her nubile body while she held tightly the shimmering material against her heaving bosom and let out an expressive sigh. The whole scenario resembled an innocent script from a steamy romance novella and the naiveté of both characters bemused the quiet watcher who enjoyed the untainted show. The owner of the vaporous eyes, desire reigned in, spoke in his divine accented tone, almost in a whisper seeking consent from the nervous and equally aroused young bride, requesting access to the marital berth.

---

Michael usually would not have capitulated to his appetites, he was too controlled and disciplined for that kind of untrammeled behavior, however, he had never met a woman that disquieted him as much as Nikita did. Since learning about her from his step-mother, Michael had been intrigued, enraptured and hungry to learn every nuance that was this beauty, but then he met her and his world turned on its axis until now he stood before her like a sailor with a fistful of $5 bills.

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She fidgeted in the bed as an inescapable urgency overtook all rational thought and she spontaneously laughed, not meaning to insult or add levity to this awkward moment and make it worst, she thought, by the nonsense she uttered next. “Bwahahaha, sorry.” She further laughed; not able to stop the giggling childlike reaction to the flawless male’s more-than-perfect anatomy.

---

A series of well placed thrusts, hips grinding against each other, well lubricated gifted parts dancing in unison, universal movements perfected by the lucky pair and then Nirvana achieved and Utopia conquered. The hands that linked together with the long fingers intertwined were extended over her head and promptly lost color for the force in which they held each other was equivalent to melting into each other’s skin. The digits that dipped and fondled in rhythmic synchronization with the thrusting member heightened the awareness of the couple’s senses. The female grip, unusually strong, that like a ring encircled the neck of the precocious penis was allowing a heightened feeling of wealth, so the member grew in value, in strength.

And Nikita, who was ‘orgasming’ repeatedly, not able to stop the sensation awoken by the masterful gent, created a linguistic fabrication, turning a simple act into a well conjugated verb. As the lovers moved rapidly to individual culmination they first joined forces and achieved completion as one, in an absolute peek of perfected zenith. Michael and Nikita were World Series champs, Florida Marlins moving quickly from Triple A to ‘The Show’, and as in all moments of perfection, Heaven wept and the Angels sang. “I love you, I honestly love you…”

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

Hush your mouth! He's a stud.

And he gets facial expressions around his wife and child, or when he's lost his memory.