Happy New Year, BBRC-ers! We at BBRC would like to start the new year off right by providing you with some new material from our favorite author, Rebeccah Love Ervin. This particularly tasty treat, entitled "The Baker's Rack," will leave you craving that sweet sinful sensation in your mouths that only certain kinds of delights can quell. We invite you now to sit back, have a buttered rum, and enjoy as you feast your eyes upon "The Baker's Rack..." the first BBRC tale of 2012!
Brigitte had been employed with the city's finest pastry shop, Fétiche Nourriture, for nearly six months, and the head pastry chef, Serge, had noticed her from day one. From the start, he had felt his attraction for her grow exponentially every time he saw her. He loved the way she came in when their day began at 4:00 in the morning, her yellowing eyes mysteriously hidden beneath her swollen, crusty eyelids, the way her morning breath wafted into the kitchen announcing her arrival five minutes prior to her actually entering, and most of all, the way her yellow-gray hair stuck out on end, as she'd only managed to get half of it up into a ponytail before leaving her house. When the shop owner informed them they'd be on their own that day, as he was taking the other pastry chefs to the market to sell their wares, it was the only excuse Serge needed.
"Ahem," Serge began. "Brigitte, do you think I might have a word with you?"
"Sure, " said Brigitte. "Is it about that brioche? I was quite sure I'd made enough for the day, but if you need me to make some more..."
"It's not about the brioche," Serge interrupted. "I...I wanted to tell you that from the first time I set my eyes upon you, I knew I wanted to taste your lips..."
"Oh!" Brigitte exclaimed. "No, please! I don't want to end up in a human stew!"
"What? No!" Serge said. "No, I don't mean in the serial killer kind of way...I mean I want to taste your lips...BOTH sets of lips, while they're still on you..."
"Oh. Oh! Why Serge..."
Serge came in for the kiss before Brigitte could say anything else. Brigitte responded in kind, plunging her dry, cracked tongue between Serge's six missing front teeth. She stroked his Lionel Richie perm-mullet, taking care that the clumps of hair that came off in her hands were properly disposed of away from the food. His hands wandered all over Brigitte's body, her torso reminiscent of the chocolate chip walnut cookie dough he had been working with only moments before. He felt her sticky cinnamon buns under her chef's whites, flakes of skin falling off of them like they do off the fresh baklava they prepare daily. She reached down and felt the fullest extent of his baguette, rising like the yeast they had set out the night before. He moaned as she began to knead with both hands. Before long, Serge made his way down to the real sweet and savory treat... She put up no resistance as he pulled down her trousers, revealing his favorite guilty pleasure in his entire repertoire...the bacon-maple doughnut. He plunged in, cracking the creme brulee-style glaze that had formed over it. Brigitte cried out with surprise and pleasure, and grabbed his long beard, still filled with all sorts of goodies that had been stuck there from previous weeks of baking. Soon after, he plunged his fully-risen baguette into her bacon flaps, and the two began rolling to and fro, like the rolling pins they used for the sugar cookie dough. It only took a few moments before Serge's pastry tube verrily overflowed with sweet white cream, nearly bursting the tip off his piping bag as they cried out together in blinding ecstacy.
As they lay on the tile floor of the kitchen, exhausted but happy, Brigitte snuggled into the billowing hair of Serge's armpit. "Well, lover," she said, "you sure know how to dine on the vagine."
We at BBRC hope you were thrilled with Rebeccah Love Ervin's newest installment, welcoming in the 2012 year! You can own this story for 129 easy payments of $.97 (+$3.88 s/h, of course). Order now, and we'll send you your very own bacon-maple flavored self-glazing lubricating gel as a free gift. Just heat it up over the stove before use and experience the taste and smell of bacon-maple goodness in your own home.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Hot for Teacher
Good day, BBRC-ers! Yes, it is officially time for a LONG overdue passage from the favorite author, Rebeccah Love Ervin. We know many people have been waiting for a very long time for a new excerpt from our favorite author, so we're here to oblige you with her newest tale of lust and desire, "Hot for Teacher." It seemed so obvious, yet was ten years in the making, it has been aged like a fine scotch, and will now be delivered to you for your reading pleasure. Guaranteed to stimulate and titillate, we invite you to sit back, pull up your favorite desk chair, and enjoy "Hot for Teacher."
Dr. Thaddeus Leatherbrick had been teaching for a good amount of time, but he had a difficult time recalling a finer student than Carolina Davenport-Freemont. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he looked forward to teaching his afternoon embalming class because he knew she would be there, front and center, her scabied hands at the ready to plunge her instruments into the cadaver of the day. He loved the way she looked the part, her dark circles and bags highlighting the sunken-in, glazed-over pale blue eyes, her hollow cheeks and thin lips pulled taut over her jutting cheekbones and meth teeth, and especially her dishwater-blonde hair that hung in her face, helping to form the vast array of blackheads and zits that lined her forehead and jawline. When she asked to speak to him after class, he knew it was the only excuse he needed.
"Dr. Leatherbrick," Carolina said, "I have a question about draining the bodies after they come out of cold storage."
"Oh, Carolina," Thaddeus said, "why talk of such things when we can probe and explore our own living bodies right here and now?"
"Why Thaddeus, I didn't know you felt that way about me. I feel the same about you."
With that, the two collided like the car wreck that had claimed the life of Carolina's cadaver for the day. Thaddeus immediately set to work removing Carolina's holey jeans, whos' tightness highlighted the thigh fat in every opening. Carolina tore open Thaddeus' short-sleeved button-down shirt with the ink stains on the corner pocket, revealing his man-boobs and back fat rolls. They kissed deeply, Thaddeus could feel Carolina's swollen, pus-filled tonsils with his tongue, Carolina could taste where there had been broccoli stuck in his braces since the Thursday before. He moved his hands over her body, stopping to feel every rib and vertebrae through her sore-encrusted skin. She writhed with every movement of his hands, and responded by stroking his considerably-sized yard stick, inching it suggestively toward her bony pelvis, begging for him to check to see if she was still alive. Finally, she pushed his pants down and he was at the ready to give her a lesson she wouldn't likely forget. Before they knew it, Thaddeus was pounding Carolina, beating the chalk dust off his old erasers, Carolina was bent over the teacher's desk as though she were accepting punishment for not properly doing her homework, the skin on her derriere flapping with each thrust. As he thrust his pointer repeatedly into her Trapper Keeper, the two began to build the tension bringing them closer to the ultimate climaxx (yes, with two x's). Finally, together, Thaddeus and Carolina made it to the breaking point, and the two cried out in excitement like students finally being released for the summer. Afterward, the two lay on the industrial-strength carpet. Thaddeus took Carolina's clammy hand, and gazed at her one deflated, exposed leatherboob.
"Well, honey," he said to her, "you sure know how to get an easy A."
We at the BBRC understand you have many choices when it comes to servicing your romance needs, and we hope you enjoyed the latest excerpt from Rebeccah Love Ervin's "Hot for Teacher." To show our appreciation for your loyalty, we'd like to make a special offer. Order now, and we'll include a free paddle engraved with your initials for your personal punishment pleasure. Who wouldn't want to semi-permanently scar their initials into their partner's rears, especially at a value of only 17 easy payments of $3.93/month?
Dr. Thaddeus Leatherbrick had been teaching for a good amount of time, but he had a difficult time recalling a finer student than Carolina Davenport-Freemont. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he looked forward to teaching his afternoon embalming class because he knew she would be there, front and center, her scabied hands at the ready to plunge her instruments into the cadaver of the day. He loved the way she looked the part, her dark circles and bags highlighting the sunken-in, glazed-over pale blue eyes, her hollow cheeks and thin lips pulled taut over her jutting cheekbones and meth teeth, and especially her dishwater-blonde hair that hung in her face, helping to form the vast array of blackheads and zits that lined her forehead and jawline. When she asked to speak to him after class, he knew it was the only excuse he needed.
"Dr. Leatherbrick," Carolina said, "I have a question about draining the bodies after they come out of cold storage."
"Oh, Carolina," Thaddeus said, "why talk of such things when we can probe and explore our own living bodies right here and now?"
"Why Thaddeus, I didn't know you felt that way about me. I feel the same about you."
With that, the two collided like the car wreck that had claimed the life of Carolina's cadaver for the day. Thaddeus immediately set to work removing Carolina's holey jeans, whos' tightness highlighted the thigh fat in every opening. Carolina tore open Thaddeus' short-sleeved button-down shirt with the ink stains on the corner pocket, revealing his man-boobs and back fat rolls. They kissed deeply, Thaddeus could feel Carolina's swollen, pus-filled tonsils with his tongue, Carolina could taste where there had been broccoli stuck in his braces since the Thursday before. He moved his hands over her body, stopping to feel every rib and vertebrae through her sore-encrusted skin. She writhed with every movement of his hands, and responded by stroking his considerably-sized yard stick, inching it suggestively toward her bony pelvis, begging for him to check to see if she was still alive. Finally, she pushed his pants down and he was at the ready to give her a lesson she wouldn't likely forget. Before they knew it, Thaddeus was pounding Carolina, beating the chalk dust off his old erasers, Carolina was bent over the teacher's desk as though she were accepting punishment for not properly doing her homework, the skin on her derriere flapping with each thrust. As he thrust his pointer repeatedly into her Trapper Keeper, the two began to build the tension bringing them closer to the ultimate climaxx (yes, with two x's). Finally, together, Thaddeus and Carolina made it to the breaking point, and the two cried out in excitement like students finally being released for the summer. Afterward, the two lay on the industrial-strength carpet. Thaddeus took Carolina's clammy hand, and gazed at her one deflated, exposed leatherboob.
"Well, honey," he said to her, "you sure know how to get an easy A."
We at the BBRC understand you have many choices when it comes to servicing your romance needs, and we hope you enjoyed the latest excerpt from Rebeccah Love Ervin's "Hot for Teacher." To show our appreciation for your loyalty, we'd like to make a special offer. Order now, and we'll include a free paddle engraved with your initials for your personal punishment pleasure. Who wouldn't want to semi-permanently scar their initials into their partner's rears, especially at a value of only 17 easy payments of $3.93/month?
The North Pole
Welcome to BBRC's Special Holiday Edition of timeless romance classics. During this time of year, we like to bring out the holiday cheer by bringing you special holiday passages from our favourite romance classic authors. This week, we're proud to present one of our finest selections from Rebeccah Love Margolin entitled, "The North Pole." This passage has been compared to such holiday classics as "The Grinch," "A Christmas Carol," and The Bible. We're sure you'll add it to you list of holiday favourites as well. So sit back, grab a glass of nog (with Covoisier in it, of course), and enjoy "The North Pole."
'Twas the night before Christmas and at the North Pole, Mrs. Claus was busy in the kitchen baking up some Christmas goods to give to Santa before he had to leave for the big trip. Santa walked into the room just in time to see Mrs. Claus bend over the oven, removing what smelled like a nice cherry pie. Suddenly Santa was overcome with a lust he hadn't felt in years. The two of them were alone in the kitchen and the elves were busy running around. It was the only excuse Santa needed.
"Mmmm," Santa said, "something sure smells good." Mrs. Claus turned, startled.
"Why Santa, you frightened me! You're just in time...I just pulled a cherry pie out of the oven, but it's still too hot, so don't you be putting your fingers all up in it."
"Mrs., I ain't thinkin' about puttin my fingers in no CHERRY pie..," Santa moved forward and grabbed Mrs. Claus by the apron. "Hmmm, mmm...I was thinking more along the lines of hair pie."
"Why Mr. Claus! You've got a long, hard night in front of you!"
"Why yes, I certainly do!"
Santa pulled Mrs. Claus close to him and the two began to kiss passionately. Mrs. Claus could feel Santa's candy cane through his red velour pants. Slowly, Santa lowered Mrs. Claus to the floor. He put his hand up her dress and caressed her cookie dough. She groaned, slipping her hands inside his coat. Santa could take it no more...plus, he had to get going if he wanted to make his rounds. He yanked up her dress, turned her over, and sat her in his lap.
"What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" he asked. She giggled, but then Santa put his cheese log into her fruitcake and her giggles turned to moans. Santa ravaged Mrs. Claus as if she were in charge of the cookies the little kids put out for him. The two climaxed quickly, Santa's belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly. Afterwards, Santa quickly buttoned up his pants and turned to go out the door.
"By the way, Mrs.," Santa said, turning back to his wife on the floor, "ho ho ho!"
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed this special holiday treat by Rebeccah Love Margolin. This classic can be purchased for six easy payments of $12.46 (+ 4.95 s/h). Order now and recieve a lifetime supply of your choice of gingerbread or candy cane flavored condoms. If you found Rebeccah Love Margolin's story a little more "colorful" than the usual passages, you must remember that she is just a Jew...and that she'll have one for all you fellow Jews coming soon! Happy Holidays!
'Twas the night before Christmas and at the North Pole, Mrs. Claus was busy in the kitchen baking up some Christmas goods to give to Santa before he had to leave for the big trip. Santa walked into the room just in time to see Mrs. Claus bend over the oven, removing what smelled like a nice cherry pie. Suddenly Santa was overcome with a lust he hadn't felt in years. The two of them were alone in the kitchen and the elves were busy running around. It was the only excuse Santa needed.
"Mmmm," Santa said, "something sure smells good." Mrs. Claus turned, startled.
"Why Santa, you frightened me! You're just in time...I just pulled a cherry pie out of the oven, but it's still too hot, so don't you be putting your fingers all up in it."
"Mrs., I ain't thinkin' about puttin my fingers in no CHERRY pie..," Santa moved forward and grabbed Mrs. Claus by the apron. "Hmmm, mmm...I was thinking more along the lines of hair pie."
"Why Mr. Claus! You've got a long, hard night in front of you!"
"Why yes, I certainly do!"
Santa pulled Mrs. Claus close to him and the two began to kiss passionately. Mrs. Claus could feel Santa's candy cane through his red velour pants. Slowly, Santa lowered Mrs. Claus to the floor. He put his hand up her dress and caressed her cookie dough. She groaned, slipping her hands inside his coat. Santa could take it no more...plus, he had to get going if he wanted to make his rounds. He yanked up her dress, turned her over, and sat her in his lap.
"What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" he asked. She giggled, but then Santa put his cheese log into her fruitcake and her giggles turned to moans. Santa ravaged Mrs. Claus as if she were in charge of the cookies the little kids put out for him. The two climaxed quickly, Santa's belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly. Afterwards, Santa quickly buttoned up his pants and turned to go out the door.
"By the way, Mrs.," Santa said, turning back to his wife on the floor, "ho ho ho!"
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed this special holiday treat by Rebeccah Love Margolin. This classic can be purchased for six easy payments of $12.46 (+ 4.95 s/h). Order now and recieve a lifetime supply of your choice of gingerbread or candy cane flavored condoms. If you found Rebeccah Love Margolin's story a little more "colorful" than the usual passages, you must remember that she is just a Jew...and that she'll have one for all you fellow Jews coming soon! Happy Holidays!
Light My Menorah
Yes, fellow Jews, it's the passage you've all been waiting for. The Do the Jew special on BBRC. Rebeccah Love Margolin's latest passage, "Come on Baby Light My Menorah." This passage has gone down in Jewish history with other such classics as "The Living Torah," "Exodus," and anything by Mel Brooks. Now, it's time to give the Jews their voice in this stirring passage. So enjoy "Come on Baby Light My Menorah."
Herschel sat looking at Miriam through the window. They had been seated at the same table during dinner at the Moskowitz's annual Channukkah party and he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her the whole time. Had he been mistaken, or had she been glancing at him too? She had gotten up and gone outside to smoke a cigarette after the meal. She was all alone outside and this was the only excuse Herschel needed. He excused himself and stepped out to the front porch.
"Mind if I join you?" Herschel asked. Miriam turned around, surprised.
"Oh! You scared me. Of course, I could use some company."
"It's a beautiful night," Herschel said, looking at Miriam. Her bright blue eyeshadow accentuated her eyes. Miriam blushed.
"Yes, it is. Not too cold, is it? I could stay out here for a long time." She began to move closer to Herschel, looking deep into his eyes. Every step she took toward him matched the beat of the music everyone inside was dancing to.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah." Herschel pulled Miriam close and the two kissed, deep and penetrating.
"God, I've wanted to do that since they started serving the Gefilte Fish," Herschel said.
"Me too! Take me, Herschel!"
With that, the two collided in passionate ecstacy. They kissed though mouths tasting of potato pancakes. Slowly, Herschel lowered Miriam to the floor and put his hand up her gold sparkly sweater. She removed her Linda Rich glasses and started to undo his braided belt, then his khaki pants with the crease down the center. Her hands moved inside his tightie whities and she released his Kosher Dill. Her hands then wandered inside his knit sweater and she caressed him. Herschel's body tensed and he put his face into Miriam's Challah dough bosom. He unzipped her skin-tight black pants and slid them down. As the two united, the guests inside were shouting as the dreidle spun. No one heard the ecstatic moans from outside. As the two thrust together, they could feel the inevitable climax. Finally, the wave of pleasure broke over them like an eternal light. Miriam raked her long, fire engine red nails down Herschel's back as the Mezzuzzah fell off the door. Exhausted, Hershel and Miriam lay together in the glow the eight candles exuded. Herschel looked deep into Miriam's clown-like eyes.
"Well," he said, "you sure know how to dance the Hora."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's latest Hebrew Classic, "Come on Baby Light My Menorah." Copies of her book can be purchased for just seventeen easy payments of $.75. Order within the next fifteen minutes and recieve a lifetime supply of anointing oil/condom lubricant free!
Herschel sat looking at Miriam through the window. They had been seated at the same table during dinner at the Moskowitz's annual Channukkah party and he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her the whole time. Had he been mistaken, or had she been glancing at him too? She had gotten up and gone outside to smoke a cigarette after the meal. She was all alone outside and this was the only excuse Herschel needed. He excused himself and stepped out to the front porch.
"Mind if I join you?" Herschel asked. Miriam turned around, surprised.
"Oh! You scared me. Of course, I could use some company."
"It's a beautiful night," Herschel said, looking at Miriam. Her bright blue eyeshadow accentuated her eyes. Miriam blushed.
"Yes, it is. Not too cold, is it? I could stay out here for a long time." She began to move closer to Herschel, looking deep into his eyes. Every step she took toward him matched the beat of the music everyone inside was dancing to.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah." Herschel pulled Miriam close and the two kissed, deep and penetrating.
"God, I've wanted to do that since they started serving the Gefilte Fish," Herschel said.
"Me too! Take me, Herschel!"
With that, the two collided in passionate ecstacy. They kissed though mouths tasting of potato pancakes. Slowly, Herschel lowered Miriam to the floor and put his hand up her gold sparkly sweater. She removed her Linda Rich glasses and started to undo his braided belt, then his khaki pants with the crease down the center. Her hands moved inside his tightie whities and she released his Kosher Dill. Her hands then wandered inside his knit sweater and she caressed him. Herschel's body tensed and he put his face into Miriam's Challah dough bosom. He unzipped her skin-tight black pants and slid them down. As the two united, the guests inside were shouting as the dreidle spun. No one heard the ecstatic moans from outside. As the two thrust together, they could feel the inevitable climax. Finally, the wave of pleasure broke over them like an eternal light. Miriam raked her long, fire engine red nails down Herschel's back as the Mezzuzzah fell off the door. Exhausted, Hershel and Miriam lay together in the glow the eight candles exuded. Herschel looked deep into Miriam's clown-like eyes.
"Well," he said, "you sure know how to dance the Hora."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's latest Hebrew Classic, "Come on Baby Light My Menorah." Copies of her book can be purchased for just seventeen easy payments of $.75. Order within the next fifteen minutes and recieve a lifetime supply of anointing oil/condom lubricant free!
Search for the Anaconda
Hello friends. Welcome to BBRC Romance Classics. Here at BBRC, we are proud to bring you the finest romantic readings from novelists all over the world. Today, we would like to present you with a stirring passage from one of Rebeccah Love Margolin's newest novels, "Search for the Anaconda." Unlike most of Rebeccah Love Margolin's novels, "Search for the Anaconda" is loosely based (VERY loosely based) on the actual events of last Friday night. So, without further ado, Rebeccah Love Margolin's stirring "Search for the Anaconda."
Isis and Hairam had been searching the town for hours. It was starting to grow dark and the had been separated from the other members of the team. They had been searching for the Anaconda that had escaped from the zoo since daybreak, but their efforts had been fruitless thus far. During the course of the day, Hairam could not help but notice the way her zoo uniform accentuated her back rolls, and the way the clumps of zoo mud clung to her hair made her almost irresistable. They had wound up down by the edge of the pond in their last ditch effort to find the snake. Now that they were alone, with the twilight hitting the water, Hairam knew that this was the only excuse he needed.
"Isis, I've got to say something now that I feel I have to say because if we find this thing, it could very well eat both of us now that we're not with the team."
"Yes, Hairam?"
"Well, I just wanted to tell you that ever since we started this wild goose chase this morning, all I could think about was the way you dive rolled after old Bessie as she was trying to slither through the tornado fence. The way her scaleds slipped though your hands, well, I liked it. I liked it a lot."
"Oh really?" Isis asked seductively. She walked up to him and touched his crevice. "I guess I should've exerted more force on her, huh?"
Hairam wasted no time. He couldn't take her hand on his jock much longer. Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, he embraced her for a passionate kiss. They fell to the soft ground by the shore of the pond, and Isis thought she felt a snake of a different color moving. Her hands wandered down to his pants and she undid his buckle and unzipped his pants. She was almost startled at the size of his girth. She was ill prepared and it almost hit her in the eye. It was the biggest she'd ever seen and she knew then that she would have to swallow it before it swallowed her. Slowly, carefully, she moved down, unhinged her jaw, and sent Hairam into ecstacies he didn't know existed. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. He took Isis and rolled on top of her, quickly undoing her pants in the process. Before she knew it, she felt a surge of pure pleasure as his snake retreated into her burrow. It was almost insantaneous for the both of them, the climax. Only a few long, drawn out thrusts sent them screaming like a Capybara struggling for it's life in the midst of tightening coils. The lay in each other's arms afterward, both exhausted from the snake capture.
"Well," Hairam said, "you sure are the best snake handler there ever was."
We at BBRC are proud to bring you such a unique gem as this exerpt from "Searching for the Anaconda." We hope you enjoyed it. You can purchase this novel from BBRC for just thirteen easy payments of $1.53 (+$4.69> s/h). Order now and recieve a special free video of "The Crocodile Hunter's Most Erotic Moments" absolutely free.
Isis and Hairam had been searching the town for hours. It was starting to grow dark and the had been separated from the other members of the team. They had been searching for the Anaconda that had escaped from the zoo since daybreak, but their efforts had been fruitless thus far. During the course of the day, Hairam could not help but notice the way her zoo uniform accentuated her back rolls, and the way the clumps of zoo mud clung to her hair made her almost irresistable. They had wound up down by the edge of the pond in their last ditch effort to find the snake. Now that they were alone, with the twilight hitting the water, Hairam knew that this was the only excuse he needed.
"Isis, I've got to say something now that I feel I have to say because if we find this thing, it could very well eat both of us now that we're not with the team."
"Yes, Hairam?"
"Well, I just wanted to tell you that ever since we started this wild goose chase this morning, all I could think about was the way you dive rolled after old Bessie as she was trying to slither through the tornado fence. The way her scaleds slipped though your hands, well, I liked it. I liked it a lot."
"Oh really?" Isis asked seductively. She walked up to him and touched his crevice. "I guess I should've exerted more force on her, huh?"
Hairam wasted no time. He couldn't take her hand on his jock much longer. Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, he embraced her for a passionate kiss. They fell to the soft ground by the shore of the pond, and Isis thought she felt a snake of a different color moving. Her hands wandered down to his pants and she undid his buckle and unzipped his pants. She was almost startled at the size of his girth. She was ill prepared and it almost hit her in the eye. It was the biggest she'd ever seen and she knew then that she would have to swallow it before it swallowed her. Slowly, carefully, she moved down, unhinged her jaw, and sent Hairam into ecstacies he didn't know existed. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. He took Isis and rolled on top of her, quickly undoing her pants in the process. Before she knew it, she felt a surge of pure pleasure as his snake retreated into her burrow. It was almost insantaneous for the both of them, the climax. Only a few long, drawn out thrusts sent them screaming like a Capybara struggling for it's life in the midst of tightening coils. The lay in each other's arms afterward, both exhausted from the snake capture.
"Well," Hairam said, "you sure are the best snake handler there ever was."
We at BBRC are proud to bring you such a unique gem as this exerpt from "Searching for the Anaconda." We hope you enjoyed it. You can purchase this novel from BBRC for just thirteen easy payments of $1.53 (+$4.69> s/h). Order now and recieve a special free video of "The Crocodile Hunter's Most Erotic Moments" absolutely free.
Digital Getdown
Yes, friends, it's that time again. BBRC is proud to bring you the finest romance snippets...this month with a digital twist. One of our favourite authors, Rebeccah Love Margolin, has brought us something new this month, a twist on her usual sultry, seductive BBRC passages. Her new classic, "Donkey Wong," takes us into the realm of the sensuous via video game. With the help from a mysterious tall handsome stranger, aka Tom M. Spiva, we delve into the unexplored passions not yet uncovered. So sit back and enjoy "Donkey Wong."
Gex and princess Ludmilda had been walking for what seemed like hours. They were exhausted from jumping over waterfalls, shooting the dangerous, horrible killer jubblies that seemed to come from all sides, and collecting the magic posies from which they derived their energy and power. Gex couldn't help staring at Ludmilda out of the corner of his eye. The way her hair jutted from her head in long spikes, like a hedgehog, and the way she walked, right foot, together, right foot, together, made him want her more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. With the last batch of jubblies destroyed and no one around, this was the only excuse he needed.
"Ludmilda," Gex said in his monotone answering machine message voice, "we've been doing missions that are dangerous in the same vicinity as one another for an extensive period of time. It makes me feel in close proximity to your physical and inner being. I wish to connsumate my feelings of attraction with you."
"Oh," Ludmilda said in her voice box tone, "perhaps we should make this time a time to conjugate."
With that, the two bounced into a nearby bush. Gex and Ludmilda pressed their lips together in a kissing fashion. Gex extended his arm fully, and began to stroke Ludmilda's 64 bit graphics...up, down, up, down. Ludmilda could see that Gex's Koopa was growing powerful in his plumbing trousers and she began to stiffly rub it, each pass of her hand caused it to get bigger. Gex turned over and Ludmilda undid his overalls, exposing Kong. She hopped on top of it, bouncing on it as if to conquer it. With every bounce, 100 points racked up on their score...200...300...until they finally reached near 1000 points. At that stage, the screen started flickering and the two shrieked as one more life was added for a bonus stage. When it was over, Gex buttoned up his plumbing trousers.
"Well," he said, "you have managed to bestow upon me the flower power needed."
We hope you enjoyed our special, experimental edition of BBRC with "Donkey Wong." You can purchase this now with our special offer of only sixteen easy payments of $3.78 (+$4.95 s/h). Order now and get a free supply of super friction astro glide free!
Gex and princess Ludmilda had been walking for what seemed like hours. They were exhausted from jumping over waterfalls, shooting the dangerous, horrible killer jubblies that seemed to come from all sides, and collecting the magic posies from which they derived their energy and power. Gex couldn't help staring at Ludmilda out of the corner of his eye. The way her hair jutted from her head in long spikes, like a hedgehog, and the way she walked, right foot, together, right foot, together, made him want her more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. With the last batch of jubblies destroyed and no one around, this was the only excuse he needed.
"Ludmilda," Gex said in his monotone answering machine message voice, "we've been doing missions that are dangerous in the same vicinity as one another for an extensive period of time. It makes me feel in close proximity to your physical and inner being. I wish to connsumate my feelings of attraction with you."
"Oh," Ludmilda said in her voice box tone, "perhaps we should make this time a time to conjugate."
With that, the two bounced into a nearby bush. Gex and Ludmilda pressed their lips together in a kissing fashion. Gex extended his arm fully, and began to stroke Ludmilda's 64 bit graphics...up, down, up, down. Ludmilda could see that Gex's Koopa was growing powerful in his plumbing trousers and she began to stiffly rub it, each pass of her hand caused it to get bigger. Gex turned over and Ludmilda undid his overalls, exposing Kong. She hopped on top of it, bouncing on it as if to conquer it. With every bounce, 100 points racked up on their score...200...300...until they finally reached near 1000 points. At that stage, the screen started flickering and the two shrieked as one more life was added for a bonus stage. When it was over, Gex buttoned up his plumbing trousers.
"Well," he said, "you have managed to bestow upon me the flower power needed."
We hope you enjoyed our special, experimental edition of BBRC with "Donkey Wong." You can purchase this now with our special offer of only sixteen easy payments of $3.78 (+$4.95 s/h). Order now and get a free supply of super friction astro glide free!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The Little Drummer Boy
Fiends! See how Rebeccah Love Margolin cares about you? A story, newly inspired by recent lunchtime events, awaits! The latest from the BBRC, entitled "The Little Drummer Boy," has just been released to the public. A tale of an annoying lad who couldn't stop banging his bongos, will leave you lust thirsty and sexually frustrated. One of the top ten picks of the victims of the drummer boy phenomenon (and you know who you are), Rebeccah Love truly hopes you enjoy this latest tantalizing tale. So sit back, crack open a cold one, and enjoy "The Little Drummer Boy."
Mortamer Beaver couldn't stop drumming Night and day, sleeping or awake, rain or shine, he had to keep the beat. While at work or at play, he felt the need to beat things with his hands in a rhythmic manner. O how he longed to have an outlet for his incessant need to pound things. As luck would have it, a new temp arrived in the office where he worked. A secretary named Methusala Balustrade, and oh! How he longed for her. Finally, the day came when he was left alone with her in the stock room. He noticed her whilst he retrieved copy paper for the xerox machine. She was standing on a stool, trying to find ink cartridges, and he realized this was the only excuse he needed.
"Um, pardon me, Methusala," Mortimer said, inching his way toward her. He could smell her designer imposters perfume, Chanel No. 6. "I couldn't help but notice we're alone here in the office. There's something I have to confess.""Yes, Mort?" she asked sweetly, even slightly suggestive.
"I want you, Methusala. I want you now! Be my muse for my ever incessant beating! The beating and beating in my head!"
"Oh, Mortimer! I thought you'd never ask! How I've longed to be your instrument of desire!"
And with that, he took her. The began to kiss furiously, deeply, Mortimer's tongue penetrating Methusala's mouth hole rhythmically, like that of a metronome. He could feel his mallet becoming firm, yet yielding to the touch. She began to stroke it, caressing it like a rare rain stick made in an ancient land. She stroked him until his underbite jutted out fiercely, and the pressure from beneath the skin caused his black heads to protrude out from within his pores. He stroked the masses of dreadlocks in the ponytail on the side of her head, and moved his hands between her dreads and the other side of her head, which was shorn to the scalp. Finally, he could take it no longer. He tore open her clown-orange blouse and loosed her giant white bongos. He yanked off her sackcloth skirt and neon yellow fishnet stockings, caressing her stretch marks and and cellulite, and began to bang his mallet against the tightly stretched membrane of her snare drum. Oh, but he didn't realize it was her first time as muse! She cried out, first from pain, then from pleasure, as he continued to bang her in 3/4 time. The tension was building toward the grand drumline finale. Finally, he let out a yawp, as he pulled out, doing a flashy flip-and-spin move as his mallet released it's bounty, leaving trails of love juice all over the shelves and supplies, and her face
Spent, and lying on the floor, Mortamer turned to Methusala. "Well, honay," he said, grasping one of her still exposed bongos, "You sure know how to tune my tympanis."
We at the BBRC would like to thank you for reading Rebeccah Love Margolin's latest submission, "The Little Drummer Boy." Act now, and send in your seven bi-monthly payments of $1.97.9 (cheaper than gas!) and recieve a drumstick-shaped anal vibrator, a $70 value, absolutely free!
Mortamer Beaver couldn't stop drumming Night and day, sleeping or awake, rain or shine, he had to keep the beat. While at work or at play, he felt the need to beat things with his hands in a rhythmic manner. O how he longed to have an outlet for his incessant need to pound things. As luck would have it, a new temp arrived in the office where he worked. A secretary named Methusala Balustrade, and oh! How he longed for her. Finally, the day came when he was left alone with her in the stock room. He noticed her whilst he retrieved copy paper for the xerox machine. She was standing on a stool, trying to find ink cartridges, and he realized this was the only excuse he needed.
"Um, pardon me, Methusala," Mortimer said, inching his way toward her. He could smell her designer imposters perfume, Chanel No. 6. "I couldn't help but notice we're alone here in the office. There's something I have to confess.""Yes, Mort?" she asked sweetly, even slightly suggestive.
"I want you, Methusala. I want you now! Be my muse for my ever incessant beating! The beating and beating in my head!"
"Oh, Mortimer! I thought you'd never ask! How I've longed to be your instrument of desire!"
And with that, he took her. The began to kiss furiously, deeply, Mortimer's tongue penetrating Methusala's mouth hole rhythmically, like that of a metronome. He could feel his mallet becoming firm, yet yielding to the touch. She began to stroke it, caressing it like a rare rain stick made in an ancient land. She stroked him until his underbite jutted out fiercely, and the pressure from beneath the skin caused his black heads to protrude out from within his pores. He stroked the masses of dreadlocks in the ponytail on the side of her head, and moved his hands between her dreads and the other side of her head, which was shorn to the scalp. Finally, he could take it no longer. He tore open her clown-orange blouse and loosed her giant white bongos. He yanked off her sackcloth skirt and neon yellow fishnet stockings, caressing her stretch marks and and cellulite, and began to bang his mallet against the tightly stretched membrane of her snare drum. Oh, but he didn't realize it was her first time as muse! She cried out, first from pain, then from pleasure, as he continued to bang her in 3/4 time. The tension was building toward the grand drumline finale. Finally, he let out a yawp, as he pulled out, doing a flashy flip-and-spin move as his mallet released it's bounty, leaving trails of love juice all over the shelves and supplies, and her face
Spent, and lying on the floor, Mortamer turned to Methusala. "Well, honay," he said, grasping one of her still exposed bongos, "You sure know how to tune my tympanis."
We at the BBRC would like to thank you for reading Rebeccah Love Margolin's latest submission, "The Little Drummer Boy." Act now, and send in your seven bi-monthly payments of $1.97.9 (cheaper than gas!) and recieve a drumstick-shaped anal vibrator, a $70 value, absolutely free!
The Great Outwhores
Oh, friends. Yes. It is, in fact, that time. Time for a BBRC installment just in time for the summer. Rebeccah Love Margolin, having taken a hiatus to spend time on a Kibbutz in Israel, and having a new appreciation for the earth and all nature has to offer, has written a wonderful tale of outdoor delights. "The Great Outwhores" is a sinfully scintillating tale of moutainous mirth and merriment, and for those of you who like an occasional walk in the woods, this one's for you. So sit back, grab some s'mores, and enjoy "The Great Outwhores."
Robespierre couldn't believe his luck. When his father insisted he get a summer job as a trail guide in the state park, he was convinced he was in for the most boring summer of his life. He couldn't fathom spending the last of his free time before college swatting at bugs with a third degree sunburn on his neck, but that was before he met Antoinette, the head trail guide. O! what a beauty she was, indeed! Her stringy jet black fe-mullet with the platinum roots gleamed like shoe polish with spit on it in the afternoon sun. Her pig-like snout turned up just enough to see her nosehairs glistening like spider webs, the boogers like insects unfortunate enough to be caught that day. What he was most attracted to was the way she wore her state park-issued khakis two sizes too small, her waist hanging over the waistline in perfect muffin-top fashion. Now that he was on individual training with her in the middle of the woods, it was the only excuse he needed.
"Uh, Antoinette?" Robespierre's said, his voice cracking in the last throes of adolescence.
"Yes, Robespierre, what is it? You sound excited. Did you find some kind of rare brush?"
"Um, no. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you taking me out on the trail, and...you know...showing me around and stuff. Plus I think you're hot."
"Oh, really?" Antoinette asked intently.
"Oh yeah."
"Oh Robespierre, you have no idea how I've longed for you to say that." Antoinette smiled coyly at Robespierre, the gaps between her teeth offering peeks of her seductively lolling tongue . "Take me! Take me now!"
Robespierre and Antoinette came together in a way which was not unlike two bighorn sheep colliding high on the rocky slopes. Antoinette ripped off Robespierre's shirt, exposing his gleaming white, almost transluscent pidgeon chest, and ran her fingers through his man-perm, the flakes of skin from the eczema on his scalp floating on the breeze like feathers. She noticed that his manhood had grown stiff and rigid as a branch on a petrified tree...and was running a sappy substance not unlike molassess in January. She assumed was smegma. He peeled off her clothing, exposing what was left of her dimpled, puckered flesh after her bout with flesh-eating bacteria the year before and lay her down in a soft bed of twigs, her breasts running into her armpits like the rolling stream into the mouth of a river. Robespierre wrestled his way through her furry crevasse using his buck knife before plunging his petrified branch into her bear den. Robespierre, still a young buck, thrust his manhood into her with the speed of a Jackalope. Soon, the two of them began to howl like coyotes in the night, taking each other to Everst-like heights of passion before exploding like an out of control forest fire.
"Well, darlin'," Robespierre said as they lay there spent like salmon swimming upstream, "You sure know how to rub my stick to start my fire."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's newest work, "The Great Outwhores." You can order this, and other stirring passages from Rebeccah Love Margolin, for the low low price of $5.91 (+s/h). Order now and we'll send you a special tube of maple syrup flavored bondage latex, a $100 value, absolutely free as our gift to you!
Robespierre couldn't believe his luck. When his father insisted he get a summer job as a trail guide in the state park, he was convinced he was in for the most boring summer of his life. He couldn't fathom spending the last of his free time before college swatting at bugs with a third degree sunburn on his neck, but that was before he met Antoinette, the head trail guide. O! what a beauty she was, indeed! Her stringy jet black fe-mullet with the platinum roots gleamed like shoe polish with spit on it in the afternoon sun. Her pig-like snout turned up just enough to see her nosehairs glistening like spider webs, the boogers like insects unfortunate enough to be caught that day. What he was most attracted to was the way she wore her state park-issued khakis two sizes too small, her waist hanging over the waistline in perfect muffin-top fashion. Now that he was on individual training with her in the middle of the woods, it was the only excuse he needed.
"Uh, Antoinette?" Robespierre's said, his voice cracking in the last throes of adolescence.
"Yes, Robespierre, what is it? You sound excited. Did you find some kind of rare brush?"
"Um, no. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you taking me out on the trail, and...you know...showing me around and stuff. Plus I think you're hot."
"Oh, really?" Antoinette asked intently.
"Oh yeah."
"Oh Robespierre, you have no idea how I've longed for you to say that." Antoinette smiled coyly at Robespierre, the gaps between her teeth offering peeks of her seductively lolling tongue . "Take me! Take me now!"
Robespierre and Antoinette came together in a way which was not unlike two bighorn sheep colliding high on the rocky slopes. Antoinette ripped off Robespierre's shirt, exposing his gleaming white, almost transluscent pidgeon chest, and ran her fingers through his man-perm, the flakes of skin from the eczema on his scalp floating on the breeze like feathers. She noticed that his manhood had grown stiff and rigid as a branch on a petrified tree...and was running a sappy substance not unlike molassess in January. She assumed was smegma. He peeled off her clothing, exposing what was left of her dimpled, puckered flesh after her bout with flesh-eating bacteria the year before and lay her down in a soft bed of twigs, her breasts running into her armpits like the rolling stream into the mouth of a river. Robespierre wrestled his way through her furry crevasse using his buck knife before plunging his petrified branch into her bear den. Robespierre, still a young buck, thrust his manhood into her with the speed of a Jackalope. Soon, the two of them began to howl like coyotes in the night, taking each other to Everst-like heights of passion before exploding like an out of control forest fire.
"Well, darlin'," Robespierre said as they lay there spent like salmon swimming upstream, "You sure know how to rub my stick to start my fire."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's newest work, "The Great Outwhores." You can order this, and other stirring passages from Rebeccah Love Margolin, for the low low price of $5.91 (+s/h). Order now and we'll send you a special tube of maple syrup flavored bondage latex, a $100 value, absolutely free as our gift to you!
Sexual Chocolate
This is a complimentary passage from Rebeccah Love Margolin's new harlequin romance classic "Sexual Chocolate." We at BBRC classics are proud to bring you quality romance novels such as "Hide the Salami", "U and U and Me", and "Love Gravy." And now enjoy this free sample of Rebeccah Love Margolin's new BBRC romance classic, "Sexual Chocolate."
"Where are you?" Mallory called out to Savoy. She'd been running around the island all day. Suddenly, she tripped over something big and hard, nearly twisting her ankle. "Oomph!" Mallory looked down and saw Savoy doubled over holding his manhood. "Owwww! My special purpose!" "Savoy!" Mallory exclaimed. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Here, let me rub it." This was the only excuse Savoy needed. "Okay, anything to make it feel better." Savoy's naughty bits had shrunk back down to their original sizes, but with the touch of Mallory's hand, it began to inflate, like one of those air castles at an amusement park. "Mmmm, much better," Savoy said, putting his face into Mallory's creamy white goodness. "Oooh, Savoy," Mallory breathed. "This calls for something I've been saving up. I found it on one of the smashed crates in the lagoon." Savoy looked up from his enfoldment. To his delight, Mallory produced a hunk of chocolate from the folds of her petticoats. "Right on!" Savoy said, seductively. He lay Mallory on her back and opened her bodice. The chocolate melted almost instantly on her hot skin. He began to lick it off. mallory sighed with pleasure as he moved down her body. Before he could reach her junction, she pulled him back up and ripped off his shirt. "Wooooow!" Savoy exclaimed. He ripped off his own pantaloons as well as her petticoats. Savoy put the piece of chocolate in his mouth and kissed Mallory. As he stuck it to her, they shared the chocolate between the two of them (ew!). Finally, they climaxed together. As they cried out, chocolate began to squish out between their mouths until it was all over their faces. "Well, honay," Savoy said, "you sure know how to make a good dessert."
We at BBRC romance classics hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's passage from "Sexual Chocolate." Her book can be purchased from harlequin romance classics for three easy payments of $29.95.
"Where are you?" Mallory called out to Savoy. She'd been running around the island all day. Suddenly, she tripped over something big and hard, nearly twisting her ankle. "Oomph!" Mallory looked down and saw Savoy doubled over holding his manhood. "Owwww! My special purpose!" "Savoy!" Mallory exclaimed. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Here, let me rub it." This was the only excuse Savoy needed. "Okay, anything to make it feel better." Savoy's naughty bits had shrunk back down to their original sizes, but with the touch of Mallory's hand, it began to inflate, like one of those air castles at an amusement park. "Mmmm, much better," Savoy said, putting his face into Mallory's creamy white goodness. "Oooh, Savoy," Mallory breathed. "This calls for something I've been saving up. I found it on one of the smashed crates in the lagoon." Savoy looked up from his enfoldment. To his delight, Mallory produced a hunk of chocolate from the folds of her petticoats. "Right on!" Savoy said, seductively. He lay Mallory on her back and opened her bodice. The chocolate melted almost instantly on her hot skin. He began to lick it off. mallory sighed with pleasure as he moved down her body. Before he could reach her junction, she pulled him back up and ripped off his shirt. "Wooooow!" Savoy exclaimed. He ripped off his own pantaloons as well as her petticoats. Savoy put the piece of chocolate in his mouth and kissed Mallory. As he stuck it to her, they shared the chocolate between the two of them (ew!). Finally, they climaxed together. As they cried out, chocolate began to squish out between their mouths until it was all over their faces. "Well, honay," Savoy said, "you sure know how to make a good dessert."
We at BBRC romance classics hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Margolin's passage from "Sexual Chocolate." Her book can be purchased from harlequin romance classics for three easy payments of $29.95.
Leg...or Breast?
Oh yes, fiends, it is officially time. Time for a BBRC classique from Rebeccah Love Margolin, freshly released from a Turkish prison (aka taking a break from schoolwork). We at the BBRC have in our sole possession a never before seen passage from Rebeccah Love's holiday tale, "Leg...or Breast?" A tale Miles Standish and Squanto would be proud to read alone in the forest. So sit back, grab some dark meat, and enjoy "Leg...or Breast?"
Iago sat on the other side of the table from Zaltana, unable to stop staring at her. Iago had been invited to Zaltana's house for Thanksgiving by her brother, Azrael, and was struck dumb by Zaltana's beauty. Despite the cacophany of all their relatives, Zaltana was the only person around as far as Iago was concerned. He watched as she absently ran her fingers through her hair, her gnarled knuckles slipping through her greasy locks, her hair the color of swamp. His excitement was further aroused when she flashed her smile, her chipped, nicotine stained teeth glinting in the candlelight. He thought he might have caught the faint essence of stink lines rising from her gums, which were covered in sores she had obtained from years of doing methamphetamines, a drug Iago always considered to be fit for the gods themselves. He felt as though he could not contain his excitement any longer, and when she left the table to go to the bathroom, it was the only excuse he needed.
"Zaltana," Iago said, following her into the bathroom, "I need to speak to you.""Iago!" Zaltana said, startled. "My goodness, you startled me! It's not every day a man I just met follows me into the bathroom. Some days, but not everyday.""I can't control myself, Zaltana, I haven't been able to tear my eyes off of you all night. I've been undressing you with my eyes, taking off first your vest with the embroidered turkeys on it, then your shirt one puffy sleeve at a time. After that, your delightful mom-jeans, until finally...""Oh, Iago," Zaltana said, breathless. "Take me now, right here on the pea green linoleum!"With that, Iago swept Zaltana off of her feet and onto the floor. He ripped off her vest and blouse with one foul swoop. He unbuttoned first his tapered stonewashed ankle jeans, then took down his pants and underwear, which had holes in them. Her eyes widened with surprise as his massive cornucopia emerged from within. She ran her hands through his combover and down his back, her fingers stopping to trace each of the boils along the way. She grabbed his lumpy mashed potato mounds as he unbuttoned her mom jeans and practically tore them off. He reached up to her ribcage and pulled down her granny panties, and she eagerly shoved his coruncopia into her breadcrumb stuffing. Soon, they began to undulate, like the Mayflower upon the rough seas bound for the New World. Iago dove his face into Zaltana's enormous buttered rolls as their bodies began to sweat as though they were to grease the duck to put into the chicken...and then the turkey. Their fevered efforts drew them closer to the New World, and finally, Iago quickly removed his cornucopia and erupted a sweet mixture of his whipped topping and her cranberry sauce all over Zaltana's giblets."Well, honay," Iago said to Zaltana, as they lay in a puddle of their love gravy, "You sure got some sweet pumpkin pie."
We at the BBC hope you enjoyed this passage in conjunction with your warm holiday festivities. You may order this Rebeccah Love Margolin classic for the low price of five monthly payments of $3.42 (+s/h). Order now and receive your choice of pumpkin spice flavored ball gag or mashed potatoes and gravy lubricant free as our special gift to you. We at the BBRC would like to wish you a happy Thanksgiving, and have a safe and food-drunk holiday.
Iago sat on the other side of the table from Zaltana, unable to stop staring at her. Iago had been invited to Zaltana's house for Thanksgiving by her brother, Azrael, and was struck dumb by Zaltana's beauty. Despite the cacophany of all their relatives, Zaltana was the only person around as far as Iago was concerned. He watched as she absently ran her fingers through her hair, her gnarled knuckles slipping through her greasy locks, her hair the color of swamp. His excitement was further aroused when she flashed her smile, her chipped, nicotine stained teeth glinting in the candlelight. He thought he might have caught the faint essence of stink lines rising from her gums, which were covered in sores she had obtained from years of doing methamphetamines, a drug Iago always considered to be fit for the gods themselves. He felt as though he could not contain his excitement any longer, and when she left the table to go to the bathroom, it was the only excuse he needed.
"Zaltana," Iago said, following her into the bathroom, "I need to speak to you.""Iago!" Zaltana said, startled. "My goodness, you startled me! It's not every day a man I just met follows me into the bathroom. Some days, but not everyday.""I can't control myself, Zaltana, I haven't been able to tear my eyes off of you all night. I've been undressing you with my eyes, taking off first your vest with the embroidered turkeys on it, then your shirt one puffy sleeve at a time. After that, your delightful mom-jeans, until finally...""Oh, Iago," Zaltana said, breathless. "Take me now, right here on the pea green linoleum!"With that, Iago swept Zaltana off of her feet and onto the floor. He ripped off her vest and blouse with one foul swoop. He unbuttoned first his tapered stonewashed ankle jeans, then took down his pants and underwear, which had holes in them. Her eyes widened with surprise as his massive cornucopia emerged from within. She ran her hands through his combover and down his back, her fingers stopping to trace each of the boils along the way. She grabbed his lumpy mashed potato mounds as he unbuttoned her mom jeans and practically tore them off. He reached up to her ribcage and pulled down her granny panties, and she eagerly shoved his coruncopia into her breadcrumb stuffing. Soon, they began to undulate, like the Mayflower upon the rough seas bound for the New World. Iago dove his face into Zaltana's enormous buttered rolls as their bodies began to sweat as though they were to grease the duck to put into the chicken...and then the turkey. Their fevered efforts drew them closer to the New World, and finally, Iago quickly removed his cornucopia and erupted a sweet mixture of his whipped topping and her cranberry sauce all over Zaltana's giblets."Well, honay," Iago said to Zaltana, as they lay in a puddle of their love gravy, "You sure got some sweet pumpkin pie."
We at the BBC hope you enjoyed this passage in conjunction with your warm holiday festivities. You may order this Rebeccah Love Margolin classic for the low price of five monthly payments of $3.42 (+s/h). Order now and receive your choice of pumpkin spice flavored ball gag or mashed potatoes and gravy lubricant free as our special gift to you. We at the BBRC would like to wish you a happy Thanksgiving, and have a safe and food-drunk holiday.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The Lady is a Vamp
Due to the recent increase in popularity of vampires, and just in time for the Halloween season, BBRC is compelled to create a new vision of vampire romance to fill your senses and awaken your dark spirit. Thusly, we have a passage from the brand new Rebeccah Love Ervin romance classic, "The Lady is a Vamp." This predatory passage will take a bite out of your mind, and leave you with the insatiable taste of lust and desire in your mouth. So sit back, grab some True Blood, and enjoy "The Lady is a Vamp."
Desdemona had been hunting all night. What she didn't know was that she had been followed by Atticus, the local vampire hunter, who also had developed quite a fondness for her. She had ducked into the shadows in an alley in an effort to stalk her prey, a drunk who had just left the bar. She could smell the man, and had a particular liking for the taste of red wine with her food. She was alone, and they alley was very dark. Atticus figured he'd kill two birds with one stone...why not get lucky and save a life at the same time? It was the only excuse he needed.
"Thinking about grabbing a bite?" Atticus asked. Desdemona startled. She was surprised she hadn't heard him.
"Well, Atticus the vampire hunter. You finally found me," she said.
"Yes, but it's not what you think," he said.
"Well, what is it, then? I haven't got all night, and I'm starving."
"Look," he said, "I've been following you for a long time...and it's because I've been seduced by your charms. I...I want to be your fang-banger."
"Oh, Atticus! That's so sweet! I don't think anyone has said that to me since the Bubonic Plague!" Desdemona said, and before he knew it, she was on top of him.
Atticus' excitement was only further enhanced when he got a close-up look at Desdemona's decroded fangs, the echo of centuries past before the age of dental floss. He was mesmerized by the coppery-sour scent of old blood on her breath before he kissed her. The surrounding garbage was an aphrodisiac they both found irresistable, as the scent of overripe bananas and dirty diapers mingled with their own scents of death and halitosis. She tore open his shirt with her long, ragged nails, exposing his superfluous third nipple under his sweater-length chest hair. Atticus ran his fingers through Desdemona's hair, strands crusted with dirt and nightcrawlers from crawling out of the ground. She kissed him again, his long, bristly nose hairs brushed against her upper lip. He ripped her blouse open revealing her sunken-in, skeletal chest. Her former bounty was evident by the level of hanging and sagginess...like that of empty bags of O-negative discarded as biohazard. She unzipped his pants and loosed his wooden stake, at the ready to plunge deep into the heart of the vampire. He flung up her skirt and without hesitation drove his stake into her dusty coffin. She moaned and absentmindedly stroked his beard, which was grizzled and still contained the remnants of last evening's meal. She had forgotten what anchovies and Colt .45 smelled like. It had been a long time since she had actually stopped long enough to smell a man...or drink a beer. She resisted going for the jugular as he thrust harder and with more purpose. Soon, the two climaxed together like the wave of blood after the mass beheadings that Desdemona had witnessed centuries before. Afterward, they lay on top of the soft, squishy garbage bags in the alley. Atticus turned to face Desdemona.
"Well, honey," Atticus said, "you sure know how to drain the blood from a man's head."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed this passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's newest tale, "The Lady is a Vamp." You can order your copy for 16 easy payments of $1.12 (+ $2.38 s/h). Order now and receive a complimentary set of his/hers vampire fangs for your own personal blood play fantasies (a $23.93 value)!
Desdemona had been hunting all night. What she didn't know was that she had been followed by Atticus, the local vampire hunter, who also had developed quite a fondness for her. She had ducked into the shadows in an alley in an effort to stalk her prey, a drunk who had just left the bar. She could smell the man, and had a particular liking for the taste of red wine with her food. She was alone, and they alley was very dark. Atticus figured he'd kill two birds with one stone...why not get lucky and save a life at the same time? It was the only excuse he needed.
"Thinking about grabbing a bite?" Atticus asked. Desdemona startled. She was surprised she hadn't heard him.
"Well, Atticus the vampire hunter. You finally found me," she said.
"Yes, but it's not what you think," he said.
"Well, what is it, then? I haven't got all night, and I'm starving."
"Look," he said, "I've been following you for a long time...and it's because I've been seduced by your charms. I...I want to be your fang-banger."
"Oh, Atticus! That's so sweet! I don't think anyone has said that to me since the Bubonic Plague!" Desdemona said, and before he knew it, she was on top of him.
Atticus' excitement was only further enhanced when he got a close-up look at Desdemona's decroded fangs, the echo of centuries past before the age of dental floss. He was mesmerized by the coppery-sour scent of old blood on her breath before he kissed her. The surrounding garbage was an aphrodisiac they both found irresistable, as the scent of overripe bananas and dirty diapers mingled with their own scents of death and halitosis. She tore open his shirt with her long, ragged nails, exposing his superfluous third nipple under his sweater-length chest hair. Atticus ran his fingers through Desdemona's hair, strands crusted with dirt and nightcrawlers from crawling out of the ground. She kissed him again, his long, bristly nose hairs brushed against her upper lip. He ripped her blouse open revealing her sunken-in, skeletal chest. Her former bounty was evident by the level of hanging and sagginess...like that of empty bags of O-negative discarded as biohazard. She unzipped his pants and loosed his wooden stake, at the ready to plunge deep into the heart of the vampire. He flung up her skirt and without hesitation drove his stake into her dusty coffin. She moaned and absentmindedly stroked his beard, which was grizzled and still contained the remnants of last evening's meal. She had forgotten what anchovies and Colt .45 smelled like. It had been a long time since she had actually stopped long enough to smell a man...or drink a beer. She resisted going for the jugular as he thrust harder and with more purpose. Soon, the two climaxed together like the wave of blood after the mass beheadings that Desdemona had witnessed centuries before. Afterward, they lay on top of the soft, squishy garbage bags in the alley. Atticus turned to face Desdemona.
"Well, honey," Atticus said, "you sure know how to drain the blood from a man's head."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed this passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's newest tale, "The Lady is a Vamp." You can order your copy for 16 easy payments of $1.12 (+ $2.38 s/h). Order now and receive a complimentary set of his/hers vampire fangs for your own personal blood play fantasies (a $23.93 value)!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
At the Carwash
Oh, yes, friends, the BBRC is back in action. We at the BBRC would like to take the opportunity to welcome the new members into the reading club and bid a hello to the old. This week, we have a spectacular story by our favourite author, Rebeccah Love Ervin, entitled "At the Carwash," which is guaranteed to seduce your senses. So sit back, enjoy a glass of Cognac by the fire with your favourite loved one, and experience "At the Carwash."
Junior had been sitting at the cash register all day. His excitement had been building for what seemed like hours. He had been watching Betty, one of the towel girls, wiping down cars after the cars had beenwashed, and it was getting to be that time of day to start closing down. He had harboured a deep and secret longing for the girl ever since she began working at the Stop 'n' Soak a few months earlier. It was just the two of them closing, as he had arranged, and as the other towel girls left, he knew this was the only excuse he needed.
"Say, Betty?" Junior said, coming up behind her, "Can I tells ya'sumpin'?"
"I reckon," Betty replied, turning to face him.
"Well, see here, now, I thinks I kinda taken a shine to ya' in the lastfew months...and I thinks you're real pretty-like."
"Oh, Junior, ain't you just the sweetest thang!"
Junior shuffled his feet and looked at his shoes for a moment, "I wantsyou real bad."
Not a second later, Betty was all over him like flies on manure. She kissed him once, then stopped to take out her partials, and she kissed him again. It gave Junior the warm comfortable feeling like hewere kissing a Jack-O-Lantern about four weeks after Halloween was over. He took off his grease-stained John Deere cap, exposing his receding hairline that had recently been treated with a Just for Men hair coloring. He began to caress Betty over her stone-washed, tapered jeans. His hand slipped and hit the button which started the car wash, and before they knew it, they were sprayed with water. Betty's t-shirt was soaked through and Junior could see the remnants of her botched boob job. It looked as if she had a nipple missing, but Junior dove right in. He began to buff one breast, then the other, not noticing one was an A cup and one was a C cup. Betty unhooked Junior's overalls and pushed them down over his paunch, then began to kiss one of his four chins. Junior managed to get Betty out of her painted-on pants and soon, she freed his man-hose. They tumbled to the ground, the result of sneaking the Jim Beam shooter bottles from the cooler all day. Junior climbed on top of Betty and placed his gas nozzle into her fuel tank. He waxed her and buffed her to a high shine, then, in one glorious moment, the two exploded together, as if her cell phone had rung while there were gas fumes in her front seat. They lay together on the wet concrete of the car wash, tapped out like the keg they sometimes kept in the manager's office. Junior rolled off Betty and lit a wet cigarette he had fished out of his pocket.
"Well, honey," he said, "that was better than new car smell."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed another classic tantalizing tale by our resident author, Rebeccah Love Ervin. You can purchase this story for home use for only three and a half easy payments of $7.98 ($3.71s/h). Order now and receive a free penis-shaped air freshener for your car. Mmm, smells like bubble cum...er bubble gum.
Junior had been sitting at the cash register all day. His excitement had been building for what seemed like hours. He had been watching Betty, one of the towel girls, wiping down cars after the cars had beenwashed, and it was getting to be that time of day to start closing down. He had harboured a deep and secret longing for the girl ever since she began working at the Stop 'n' Soak a few months earlier. It was just the two of them closing, as he had arranged, and as the other towel girls left, he knew this was the only excuse he needed.
"Say, Betty?" Junior said, coming up behind her, "Can I tells ya'sumpin'?"
"I reckon," Betty replied, turning to face him.
"Well, see here, now, I thinks I kinda taken a shine to ya' in the lastfew months...and I thinks you're real pretty-like."
"Oh, Junior, ain't you just the sweetest thang!"
Junior shuffled his feet and looked at his shoes for a moment, "I wantsyou real bad."
Not a second later, Betty was all over him like flies on manure. She kissed him once, then stopped to take out her partials, and she kissed him again. It gave Junior the warm comfortable feeling like hewere kissing a Jack-O-Lantern about four weeks after Halloween was over. He took off his grease-stained John Deere cap, exposing his receding hairline that had recently been treated with a Just for Men hair coloring. He began to caress Betty over her stone-washed, tapered jeans. His hand slipped and hit the button which started the car wash, and before they knew it, they were sprayed with water. Betty's t-shirt was soaked through and Junior could see the remnants of her botched boob job. It looked as if she had a nipple missing, but Junior dove right in. He began to buff one breast, then the other, not noticing one was an A cup and one was a C cup. Betty unhooked Junior's overalls and pushed them down over his paunch, then began to kiss one of his four chins. Junior managed to get Betty out of her painted-on pants and soon, she freed his man-hose. They tumbled to the ground, the result of sneaking the Jim Beam shooter bottles from the cooler all day. Junior climbed on top of Betty and placed his gas nozzle into her fuel tank. He waxed her and buffed her to a high shine, then, in one glorious moment, the two exploded together, as if her cell phone had rung while there were gas fumes in her front seat. They lay together on the wet concrete of the car wash, tapped out like the keg they sometimes kept in the manager's office. Junior rolled off Betty and lit a wet cigarette he had fished out of his pocket.
"Well, honey," he said, "that was better than new car smell."
We at the BBRC hope you enjoyed another classic tantalizing tale by our resident author, Rebeccah Love Ervin. You can purchase this story for home use for only three and a half easy payments of $7.98 ($3.71s/h). Order now and receive a free penis-shaped air freshener for your car. Mmm, smells like bubble cum...er bubble gum.
Rock You Like a Hurricane
Hello. This is your newest weekly installment of the latest in BBRC passages from Rebeccah Love Ervin's latest bestsellers. This week, we'd like to spotlight a classic of Rebeccah Love Ervin's, "Rock You Like a Hurricane." We at BBRC prefer to deviate from the newer novels every once in a while to revive old classics such as this stunning passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's first novel. So sit back and enjoy "Rock You Like a Hurricane."
The hurricane warning sirens had been going off for the last ten minutes. The whole town was silent and waiting. Constance and Barnaby were huddled together in a shelter Barnaby had built after the last hurricane. One can never be too careful. Barnaby couldn't help but notice Constance's heaving breasts trembling with fear and, since they were the only two in the shelter, this was the only excuse Barnaby needed.
"I do declare, Mizz Constance, but you are shakin' like the devil himself's got inta you. Let me hold you and do the Southern Gentlmenly thing to do, just like on tha plantation."
"My good heavens, Mr. Barnaby, would you? I'm so frightened."
Barnaby put his arms under her shirt with the kittens on it and around Constance's chub and held her love handles with the kind of tenderness only a gentlman from Biloxy would. She felt comforted by him and leaned further back into his arms. Slowly, Barnaby's hands moved to Constance's overflowing bounty as he moved in for the kill. His hands explored her body as the impending hurricane's presence was beginning to make itself known. He moved his hands down her hot pink stretch pants and she moaned with pleasure as he reaped her crop. She could see through his tight stone-washed jeans that he was getting excited. She ran her fingers through his hockey-player's mullet haircut and down to his pants. She stroked him until he could take no more. He took out her partial, flipped her over, pulled off her stretch pants and went top dollar with the gold flea collar. Outside, the hurricane had arrived and reached it max force. Inside, Barnaby continued to work Constance over until finally, they climaxed in unison as the house above them was ripped right off it's foundation.
"Well, darlin'," Barnaby said, "that's what I call a good blow."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed the previous passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's first ever bestselling novel, "Rock You Like a Hurricane." You can order her novel for three easy payments of $29.95 (+4.95 s/h). Act now and recieve a lifetime supply of strawberry flavored KY Jelly absolutely free. Thank you, from BBRC.
The hurricane warning sirens had been going off for the last ten minutes. The whole town was silent and waiting. Constance and Barnaby were huddled together in a shelter Barnaby had built after the last hurricane. One can never be too careful. Barnaby couldn't help but notice Constance's heaving breasts trembling with fear and, since they were the only two in the shelter, this was the only excuse Barnaby needed.
"I do declare, Mizz Constance, but you are shakin' like the devil himself's got inta you. Let me hold you and do the Southern Gentlmenly thing to do, just like on tha plantation."
"My good heavens, Mr. Barnaby, would you? I'm so frightened."
Barnaby put his arms under her shirt with the kittens on it and around Constance's chub and held her love handles with the kind of tenderness only a gentlman from Biloxy would. She felt comforted by him and leaned further back into his arms. Slowly, Barnaby's hands moved to Constance's overflowing bounty as he moved in for the kill. His hands explored her body as the impending hurricane's presence was beginning to make itself known. He moved his hands down her hot pink stretch pants and she moaned with pleasure as he reaped her crop. She could see through his tight stone-washed jeans that he was getting excited. She ran her fingers through his hockey-player's mullet haircut and down to his pants. She stroked him until he could take no more. He took out her partial, flipped her over, pulled off her stretch pants and went top dollar with the gold flea collar. Outside, the hurricane had arrived and reached it max force. Inside, Barnaby continued to work Constance over until finally, they climaxed in unison as the house above them was ripped right off it's foundation.
"Well, darlin'," Barnaby said, "that's what I call a good blow."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed the previous passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's first ever bestselling novel, "Rock You Like a Hurricane." You can order her novel for three easy payments of $29.95 (+4.95 s/h). Act now and recieve a lifetime supply of strawberry flavored KY Jelly absolutely free. Thank you, from BBRC.
One-Eyed Willie
Hello, everyone. This is the latest in free samples from Rebeccah Love Ervin's pending BBRC novel, "One Eyed Willie." We at BBRC recieved over 1 order for Rebeccah Love Ervin's last novel, "Sexual Chocolate." And now, BBRC is proud to produce this free passage from Rebeccah Love Ervin's new BBRClassic, "One Eyed Willie." Enjoy.
Trapped in the galley of the ship, Raquel and Banquo had given up on trying to bang the door down. Raquel sat on the floor, her dark wet hair clinging to her bald spot on the back of her head. Banquo's heart began to race. They certainly weren't leaving the galley any time soon and this was the only excuse he needed.
"Arr, me hearty," Banquo said, eyeing Raquel's bounty, "ye sure are a pretty young thing says I."
"Oh, Banquo," Raquel sighed, "I've been waiting for you to say that since the day I met you not forty eight hours ago. TAKE ME, BANQUO!"
"Ar, I've been waiting for ye to say that since the flock of seagulls cried (what?!?)."
With that, Banquo walked toward Raquel slowly, each thump of his peg leg on the floor matched the beating of Raquel's heart. He knelt down beside her. They looked into each other's eyes and began to kiss. Slowly, Banquo's hands wandered up Raquel's petticoats. She moaned in ecstacy as his fingers searched her undersea cave. Raquel tore off Banquo's waistcoat and shirt, exposing sinewy muscle as well as the tattoo of the naked lady on his chest, the caption under it reading "mother." Banquo, in turn, tore into Raquel's bodice like a man getting ready to be buried at sea. He plunged his face into her white wavecaps. Raquel cried out with pleasure. Banquo threw Raquel's petticoats over her head as he unlaced his pants. She cried out with a mixture of surprise and pleasure when she saw his large, fully raised mizzen mast seem to leap out of his pants. Banquo plunged deep into Raquel's undersea cave and the two began rocking with the ship. The waves of pleasure mounted and, finally, the two climaxed together. Banquo's glass eye popped out and rolled acrost the floor. "Like the siren ye are," Banquo said, exhausted. "Well," Raquel said, "Apparently it's the size of the ship AS WELL AS the motion of the ocean."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Ervin's passage from her up and coming BBRClassic, "One Eyed Willie." You can purchase her book for three easy payments of $29.95 (plus> $4.95 shipping and handling). Order now and recieve our special offer of a lifetime supply of nipple wax, free with your purchase.
Trapped in the galley of the ship, Raquel and Banquo had given up on trying to bang the door down. Raquel sat on the floor, her dark wet hair clinging to her bald spot on the back of her head. Banquo's heart began to race. They certainly weren't leaving the galley any time soon and this was the only excuse he needed.
"Arr, me hearty," Banquo said, eyeing Raquel's bounty, "ye sure are a pretty young thing says I."
"Oh, Banquo," Raquel sighed, "I've been waiting for you to say that since the day I met you not forty eight hours ago. TAKE ME, BANQUO!"
"Ar, I've been waiting for ye to say that since the flock of seagulls cried (what?!?)."
With that, Banquo walked toward Raquel slowly, each thump of his peg leg on the floor matched the beating of Raquel's heart. He knelt down beside her. They looked into each other's eyes and began to kiss. Slowly, Banquo's hands wandered up Raquel's petticoats. She moaned in ecstacy as his fingers searched her undersea cave. Raquel tore off Banquo's waistcoat and shirt, exposing sinewy muscle as well as the tattoo of the naked lady on his chest, the caption under it reading "mother." Banquo, in turn, tore into Raquel's bodice like a man getting ready to be buried at sea. He plunged his face into her white wavecaps. Raquel cried out with pleasure. Banquo threw Raquel's petticoats over her head as he unlaced his pants. She cried out with a mixture of surprise and pleasure when she saw his large, fully raised mizzen mast seem to leap out of his pants. Banquo plunged deep into Raquel's undersea cave and the two began rocking with the ship. The waves of pleasure mounted and, finally, the two climaxed together. Banquo's glass eye popped out and rolled acrost the floor. "Like the siren ye are," Banquo said, exhausted. "Well," Raquel said, "Apparently it's the size of the ship AS WELL AS the motion of the ocean."
We at BBRC hope you enjoyed Rebeccah Love Ervin's passage from her up and coming BBRClassic, "One Eyed Willie." You can purchase her book for three easy payments of $29.95 (plus> $4.95 shipping and handling). Order now and recieve our special offer of a lifetime supply of nipple wax, free with your purchase.
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