emmagrant01 | Deconstructing gay porn

I was going through a drawer last night and came across an issue of Manscape, a little gay porn magazine full of short erotic stories, clearly intended to be held in one hand (aka a "jackoff mag"). It was a souvenir from a slash get-together a couple of years ago, during which we all read excerpts of the stories for entertainment.

And in case you've never read this sort of thing (and some of you might not have), let me just say that it can be highly entertaining. Here's a sample excerpt.

Excerpt from a story called Park Plowing, authored by someone named R.H. in July 1995:

I pulled his tank top over his head and let my tongue leisurely travel all over his chest. I sucked his tits into my mouth, one by one, noticing that his pecs were well-developed and hard as stones. He tasted like raw beef and smelled of a hint of cologne. My bloated crank jumped up and down in anticipation, splattering his shorts with pecker tracks. I undid the three buttons on his shorts, and they dropped down to just about his hips, where they got hung up on his stiff hard-on. I knelt down and released them from his chunk of manmeat, which jumped out, practically hitting me across the face. He was clipped, as I was, and was drooling his pre-cum in copious amounts. I kissed his delectable wanger and sucked on his bulbous knob, and then I slipped his shorts off and started to get up.

"I like you right where you are," he said, as he pushed lightly on my shoulders.

I got the message and deep-throated him -- slowly -- but in one long swallow. I sucked him with my throat muscles, as he moaned his pleasure. His slick torpedo grew wider in my throat and was throbbing out an urgency I could not fail to notice. He suddenly, but with a long sigh, pulled his hammer from my lips and knelt down beside me. With one fluid movement, he had us arranged in the classic sixty-nine -- each gulping the other's love-muscle to the hilt. We began a slow sucking with our tongues, swabbing around the other's manmeat. Sweat was forming on our chests and backs, which told each other how hot we were. Our hips slammed against each other's face in a mouth-fuck meant to bring our nuts off quickly. Our breath was jagged, and we knew we were close to our gigantic orgasm. To my surprise, and small frustration, he yanked his dripping hose from my mouth and reached down to pull my lips from his succulent pillar of fleshy steel.

"Let's not come so soon," he suggested and moved around easily, so that his lips were against mine. I knew from the moment he took my cock between those lips that they were soft, hot, and longing. We made love for at least thirty minutes, holding each other tight. We must have exchanged pints of saliva as we got to know each crevice of the other's mouth. We groaned out our heated desire and caressed the body we had already grown to love. Our passion built as our lust became unmistakable. He put his hands around my rump and, in one, quick movement, flipped me over on my stomach. His head was buried in my asshole in a second, and his tongue was going crazy inside my black pit. He licked every inch of the inside of my channel, causing it to become a marsh. I reared my ass cheeks up against his mouth, wiggling with crazed emotion, wanting more and more of his head inside me.

He replaced his tongue with a finger, running around inside my pulsing passage. While I was in ecstasy, moaning out feral sounds, he reached over and puled the sack over to him. I couldn't see what he was doing, and didn't care. I just wanted him to keep up the action in my joychute, but I felt a coldness hit my ass-lips. Before I realized that he was greasing me up, getting ready to fuck me, I was about ready to explode. My pucker hole hadn't been used for a while, so I knew it'd be tight. But I love to be fucked by someone who knew how to do it, and this humpy stud would certainly meet my requirements.

He stroked his humongous cock back to harness, greased up, found the target, and slammed his fuck-pump into me in one sudden plunge. He screwed me hard and deep for about five minutes. My cum sauce was boiling wildly, and each time his truncheon brushed my prostate, I got closer and closer to orgasmic bliss. He lunged into me one more time and held his monstrous pole deep inside me. As he twitched his squiggly semen into my guts, I felt as if in ecstasy. The first volley of his cockgravy touched off my bloated nuts. I shot my slimy cum into my hair, down my face, and finally, splattering it on my chest. We held that position for several minutes and disentangled ourselves.

As he pulled out, he announced, "It's time for that drink." He poured some Coke out of two cans, filled them with booze, shook them slightly, and handed me one. We sat there drinking, stopping now and then to investigate the genitals of each other. We'd lick and suck the source of our joy in between our gulps of Coke.

Okay, that's probably enough of that. The thing that amazes me about this story (and believe me, it's pretty typical of the ones in the issue I've got) is that despite the fact that the writing is twelve kinds of bad, it got published. I mean, someone got paid to write that schlock! I'm sure many people who bought the magazine read it and found it incredibly hot, but it leaves me giggling and cringing. It's fine, technically -- the grammar, spelling, and punctuation are correct for the most part. Yet, it's terrible writing.

So let's take this as an exercise, then. What would you say it is that makes this an example of bad writing? If someone sent this to you to beta, what concrit would you give them? Why is it so terribly cringe-worthy?