Fifty Shades of Terrible Writing

Writing Erotic fiction is easy:

The plowing of my fudge factory was so vigorous, he soon found his jingle-jangle jewellery joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my vintage golf bag. He eased out a giant corn-eyed butt snake on my cans just so he could lap it up like a pig at a trough. The unrelenting orgasms from his bald avenger thrusting my clam-flavoured pothole made me come so hard, I began sweating like a dyslexic on Countdown. With his bald avenger hammering deep into my quivering mound of love pudding, the sensation of his greasy kebab skewer smashing my cervix made me quake like a Mohammed Ali on a washing machine. Now, I’ve seen more helmets than Hitler, but the sight of his stilton spear made my clunge gunge dribble like Augustus Gloop at Willy Wonka’s chocolate river.

Nicked from: http://www.fiftyshadesgenerator.com/

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