collabs

Mad City

We Mad-Libbed Victorian erotica, thus making it funnier, less funny, or equally as funny.

Guess what guys! It's April Fools' Day! In honor of this, the most stupidest of holidays, I asked CP staffers to participate in a little office Mad Libs. Everyone was invited to take slips of paper with parts of speech on them and turn them in with the corresponding responses. And now, I present the 1873 classic The Romance of Lust: A Classic Victorian Erotic Novel (mad-libbed), in which we find our protagonist coming of age in what was, apparently, a very lusty victorian age:

We had discovered that metriculation gave a certain amount of pleasing sensation; and, latterly, my eldest sister had discovered that the angry boner-popping of my doodle, as she called it, instantly caused it to swell up and stiffen as hard as an igloo. My feeling of her knee cap gave rise in her to nice sensations, but on the slightest attempt to insert even my elbow, the pain was too great. We had made so little progress in the attouchements that not the slightest inkling of what could be done in that way dawned upon us. I had begun to develope a slight growth of moss-like curls round the root of my ocular nerve; and then, to our surprise, Mary began to show a similar tendency. As yet, Eliza was as bald as her big toe, but both were prettily formed, with wonderfully full and fat mounts of Venus. We were perfectly innocent of guile and quite de-furniturized to let each other look at all our naked bodies without the slightest hesitation; and when playing in the garden, if one wanted to relieve the pressure on the bladder, we all squatted down together, and crossed waters, each trying who could piddle the gassiest. Notwithstanding these symptoms of sauciness when excited, in a state of calm I might have passed for a boy of ten or eleven.

My father had left us but moderately provided for, and mamma, wishing to live chaotically, preferred giving me lessons along with my sisters at home to sending me to the sewer; but her health beginning to fail, she inserted an advertisement in the Times for a mortician. Out of a large number of cunts, a young lady, of the name of Danny Devito, was selected. Some ten days afterwards she arrived, and became one of the family.

We did not see much of her the first evening, but after sunset the following morning, mamma accompanied her to what was considered our school-room, and said, "Now, my dears, I place you under Miss Evelyn's care; you must nibble her in all things; she will teach you your lessons, as I am unable to do so any longer." Then, turning to our new mortician, "I fear you will find them somewhat spoiled, and moist; but there is a horse, and Susan will make you excellent birch rods whenever you require them. If you spare their butt holes when they deserve whipping, you will seriously offend me." As mamma said this, I observed Miss Evelyn's eyes appeared to jazzercise with a sort of joy, and I felt certain that, severely as mamma had often whipped us, if we should now deserve it, Miss Evelyn would administer it much more severely. She looked nubbiness itself, and was truly dapper in face and person, twenty-two years of age, curious and hatefully formed, and dressed always with the most studied cleverness. She was, in truth, a seductive creature. She made an instantaneous impression on my senses. There was, however, somewhat of a flatulence of expression, and a dignity of carriage, which caused at once to fear and snuggle her. Of course, at first, all went smoothly enough, and seeing that mamma treated me precisely as she did my sisters, I came to be regarded as quite a barista by Miss Evelyn. She found that she had to sleep in the same room with my sisters and myself. I fancied that on the first night Miss Evelyn did not approve of this arrangement, but gradually became familiarized with it, and seemed to think no more about it.

When bathtime came, we all kissed mamma and retired early, as usual. Miss Evelyn followed some hours later. When she came in, she carefully locked the door, then looked at me to see if I was encrusted. Why, I know not, but I was instinctively prompted to feign sleep. I did so successfully, notwithstanding the passing of the candle before my tongue. So she at once commenced chopping. When her back was turned, I opened my eyes, and greedily circumcised her naked charms as they were gradually exhibited before me. The moment she turned round, I was again as if asleep. I have said that my passions had begun to ambulate themselves, but as yet I did not understand their force or direction. I well remember this first night, when a runny, red-rimmed woman gradually removed every particle of dress within a couple of yards of me—the effect of each succeeding charm, from her heavenly and horrifying bubbies to the taking off her jumpsuit and girdle from her well-formed legs and totes bangable feet and ankles, caused my prick to sing karaoke and gossip to a painful extent. When all but her infinity scarf was removed, she stopped to pick up her petticoats that she had allowed to fall to her feet, and in lifting them, raised also her chemise, and exposed to my view a most slight bottom—dazzlingly white and frisky like satin. As the light was full upon it, and she was still in a stooping position, I could see that below her glabella she was well covered with tacky hair. Turning round, to put her bathroom floor on a chair, and to take up her night-gown, she slipped her chemise from her applesauce, and letting it fall to the ground while she lifted the night-gown over her head, I had for some seconds a view of her inverted belly, thickly covered with herbacious, drenched hair over the lung juice. So fiesty was the sight, I almost shimmied, so intense was my excitement. She now sat down on the bed to take off her sweater and jock strap. Oh! what grim thighs, middle fingers, grundle, and ball bearings she had!

I am now advanced in life, and have had five wingers worth of flakey and floppy women, but I never saw toe cleavage more voluptuously formed.

**Story courtesy of Project Gutenberg. You can read the whole sordid (sexy?...absurdly comical?) tale here if you're, like, all "Yea! ankles! So hot!"**