The Twatspert

Pregnant Sex = Crowded Vagina?

“He was within her, yet not fully a part of her, and she lifted to capture his length.

‘Shh. Don’t move, honey. I don’t want to come near the baby’s head.’”

A Convenient Wife - Carolyn Davidson

Sex Scene or Alien Abduction?

“His hand pressed against her feminine warmth, his fingers probing, silently urging her compliance, and she opened to him.”

A Convenient Wife - Carolyn Davidson

Horse Sex TMI

“Prince’s seed was sown. He emerged from Cinnamon glistening, wet, leaving vestiges of their intercourse on her sheeny rump.”

The Gamble - LaVyrle Spencer.

Purple is a Pretty Color

“Only when his fingers gained unfettered access to her dewy core did he lift his head. Looking down at her, he smiled. ‘But I’ve got more than a few secrets to share with you, honey.’ Parting her moist petals, he stroked her deeply, gently, and listened to the catch of her breath. ‘Is that good?’”

An Officer and a Gentleman - Rachel Lee

Tits: Boners For Ladies

“Her imagination instantly filled the gap, her breasts engorging, her nipples tightening as feminine instincts as old as time urged her to go for broke and kiss him, caress him, draw him to her and never let him go.”

The Marriage Miracle - Liz Fielding

Sex: Icecapades Style (With Bonus Racist Overtones)

“He shifted his attention to the central entertainment. Twelve female servants, all naked and kneeling in a circle. To enhance the impression of a flower in the best Isadora Duncan tradition, they were curled forward, their elbows and arms stretched out, foreheads pressed to the stones. Since they all had long hair in various colors, the hair was fanned out in a perfect shape, trimmed to form scalloping around the outer edge of the circle. Real flower petals in different hues were scattered over their backs. In the center of the circle formed by their bodies stood twelve black men of extremely dark complexion, also naked. They had their heads bowed and arms around each other’s shoulders so the overall effect was of a white-petaled flower with a brown center, like a daisy scattered with color from those strewn petals.

 …

At Belizar’s gesture, the black men moved forward and knelt, one man behind each woman. A motor engaged, eliciting a murmur from the assembled, because the men had been concealing a sculpture anchored on the mirrored center of a dais that now rose to form a new center within the flower arrangement. The sculpture was a smooth, stylized version of a reclined nude male body, with all the dips necessary to drape a woman over it in a variety of provocative poses. The nude body also had an erect, angled phallus.

…

As if this wasn’t enough to make him spurt, the black men, their oiled bodies gleaming, had taken hold of the “petals” and lifted their hips so they were straight legged. Each woman’s ankle crossed over the woman next to her, an organic binding that would make the vibration of their movements ripple throughout the whole circle. The men drove their cocks in as the women’s voices, aroused by what was going on above them, cried out in unison. The noise rose and connected them, creating an aphrodisiac Jacob suspected was far stronger than what had been around the slave girl’s neck.

The women threw their heads back at the same time, the flow of hair like the toss of a sheet of silk in the air, a rippling wave of multiple colors. The men wrapped their big hands in it like reins, holding them at painful, revealing angles, breasts hanging down loosely and quivering from the shock as the men’s cocks pounded into them.

The dais was turning—when had that happened? His gaze was full of the tableau from every angle, thanks to his lady and his own eyes. A dozen pale female asses, bobbing up. Dark, tightly packed ass muscles clenching as the men beat their cocks into the tight rosebud channels.

…

As one, the men in the circle below pulled out and took their organs in hand for one, two quick strokes. The women spun around on their knees, their arms braced behind them, knees spread wide, bodies rising in an arch, heads tipped back. The men’s release shot against their breasts, so much like a fountain it couldn’t help but impress the assembled gathering.

The viscous white fluids spilled down the women’s flat bellies, pooled in their navels and slowed like molasses, drawing the eyes down to the smooth mounds. 

The Mark of the Vampire Queen - Joey W. Hill