Mad-Libs Results

The results are in! Eleven mad-libbers over at Lust Bites took on the challenge of rewriting my love hotel passage from Amorous Woman, and I have to say the results are brilliant.

Here’s the blank passage:

"Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I [VERB (PAST TENSE)] him. Thoroughly converted to the path of [NOUN]-[GERUND] [NOUN], he'd [VERB] and [VERB] me with his [BODY PART] under my [ADJECTIVE] [NOUN], until his [BODY PART] was as [ADJECTIVE] as a [COMESTIBLE (ADJECTIVE + NOUN)].

Here are the clever revisions:

Jeremy Edwards: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I avoided him. Thoroughly converted to the path of mind-broadening travel, he'd see and hear me with his foot under my blue blanket, until his shoulder was as deep as a hot brandy.

Janine Ashbless: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I passed him. Thoroughly converted to the path of butt-naked gardening, he'd turn and root me with his long-handled fork under my automated sprinkler, until his shaft was as purple as a prize-winning beetroot.

Ashley Lister: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I edited him. Thoroughly converted to the path of proofreading copy, he'd rewrite and correct me with his fingernail under my purple prose, until his finger was as red as a cochineal sandwich.

Madame Butterfly: “Yes, Miss Evans,” he’d sigh as I sprayed him. Thoroughly converted to the path of binge-drinking people, he’d lash and fan me with his finger under my bodacious lampshade, until his head was as lusty as a doughy bagel.

Kirsten Monroe: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I sparkled him. Thoroughly converted to the path of hair-parting games, he'd pillage and wrestle me with his left nipple under my fluffy merengue, until his cleft chin was as berserk as a fiery comet.

Neve Black: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I choked him,. Thoroughly converted to the path of vanilla-flavored sex,, he'd spank and tickle me with his toes under my cherry umbrella, until his cock was as rigid as ripe bamboo.

EllaRegina: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I hand-blocked him. Thoroughly converted to the path of hat-fondling study, he'd press and iron me with his tonsil under my curly steamer, until his elbow was as limber as a thinly-sliced bologna sandwich.

Kristina Lloyd: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I gerunded him. Thoroughly converted to the path of logic-fucking grammar, he'd comma and comma me with his chomsky under my split infinitive, until his colon was as semi as a dangling modifier.

Dennis Mahagin: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd admit as I passed him. Thoroughly converted to the path of Hotwheel Racing, he'd squeal and tailgate me, with his fingers under my Grand Prix Boot, until his Hotwheel Car was as blistering as a lit Trader Vics Matchbox.

Emerald: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I dusted him. Thoroughly converted to the path of bicycle-promoting umbrellas, he'd battle and jump me with his elbow under my fringed cape until his cheek was as glittery as a strawberry-shaped clown hat.

Maryanne Stahl: "Yes, Miss Evans," he'd sigh as I basted him. Thoroughly converted to the path of egg-beating goddesses, he'd somersault and poke me with his spatula under my knee until his belly button was as fiery as a dynamite-filled croissant.

And here is the original, which, I now see is in fact sadly lacking in originality! Dynamite-filled croissants, strawberry-shaped clown hats, thinly-sliced bologna sandwiches, doughy bagels, not to mention dangling modifiers…I’m getting hungry. But first, the original passage:

“Yes, Miss Evans,” he’d sigh as I straddled him. Thoroughly converted to the path of teacher-pleasing diligence, he’d lick and strum me with his tongue under my careful direction, until his face was as slick as a glazed doughnut.

Glazed doughnuts? Well, maybe that part will do. I’m off to the doughnut shop, but thanks to all who joined in the fun!