In honor of the awarding of the 2009 Bad Sex in Fiction award, well, I figured I’d give a passage of bad sex a shot. Naturally this wouldn’t be eligible, what with it not being published or anything, but what the heck. Enjoy!
“Wait!” shrieked Sally, as she jerked her pelvis violently backward.
“What’s wrong?” Michael kept his voice tender, although the flagpole in his midsection bobbed and thrusted threateningly.
Sally kissed Michael’s very slightly hairy navel. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I just need to pray for our souls.” With that, she backed off the bed and kneeled at its foot, mumbling an adaptation of the Hail Mary that her grandmother had taught her for just such an occasion.
“Does God accept your prayers if you make them naked?” Michael inquired, genuinely interested, for this was the woman that he hoped he planned to spend every future night with, and he didn’t want to screw it up over something so silly.
“Oh yes. He prefers them.”
“Well then.” Michael rolled out of the bed, and dropped to all fours. Then, in a smooth motion, he kicked up into a handstand position, using the wall to support himself.
Sally turned and gazed into Michael’s upside-down eyes. They looked perfect like this, green and mystical and tightened by gravity for once, rather than sagged. Sally lost herself in them, and the only way to find civilization again was to travel upstream. It was a leisurely, scenic journey—until she reached the forest that held a mighty totem at its heart. The totem waved hypnotically, and she recited her prayer once more, as if directed by a magical bouncing ball in an old Saturday morning cartoon.
This finished, she lay on the floor to kiss Michael’s forehead. “Our souls are saved,” she pronounced. “Let’s put them in danger again.”