Warrior vulva
Third place went to a classic. Second place goes to a slice of pulp from "The Televisionary Oracle," by Rob Brezsny, published in 2000. The offending graphs were sent by Katherine Pryszlak.
The book not only sent shivers through Ms. Pryszlak but elicited this response from an Amazon reader: "This book was perfect for me, but I'm insane."
Perhaps you are too:
"Her soaking, rippling, thousand-fold grip oscillates from delicate to firm, from a glissando shimmer to a furious suck, in an impeccably orchestrated rhythm. Warrior vulva. Shaman yoni. Gorgeous cunt that's fully awakened, relentless, and trained in militant playfulness.
"Something like an orgasm begins to announce itself at the back of my head. Hers? Or mine? Or both together? My brain is a sky in which sexually excited particles of honey amber and iced rubies are gathering into storm clouds. My eyes are thick swarms of yellowjackets funneling into the heart of the pregnant thunder. Suddenly, my legs spring out straight and taut, and every bone in my body stretches as if straining to outgrow itself. For a long time -- ten minutes? -- I am coiled stiff on the verge of a rapturous electrocution. And then I feel the spurt of lightning slam out of that sweet spot in the back of my head, wrap itself like hot oil around my spine, and plummet headfirst into the spongy gel of my scrotum. Instantaneously it swims a million tight spirals then spasms back up my spine like an eel on fire, burying itself in the nest at the back of my brain."
Tomorrow: The winner
--Karen Croft
Shares