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These are the contenders for the 2015 Bad Sex in Fiction Awards

This story is NSFW even though it's the least sexy thing you'll read today

The Literary Review has announced the nominees for its 2015 bad sex in fiction award, which aims to "draw attention to poorly written, perfunctory or redundant passages of sexual description in modern fiction, and to discourage them".

In the running for the 23rd prize are Morrissey, whose non-autobiographical literary debut List of the Lost was panned for descriptions such as "giggling snowball of full-figured copulation", and Erica Jong, an author who coined the term 'zipless f--k' in 1973, for her latest novel Fear of Dying.

Call Me Dave, the biography of David Cameron by Michael Ashcroft and Isabel Oakeshott which caused a stir this year for the line 'the future PM inserted a private part of his anatomy into [a dead pig's] mouth’, was submitted to the judges for consideration but dismissed as the authors displayed "insufficient literary brio".

The 'winner' of this year’s award will be announced on Tuesday 1st December.

The full shortlist:

Against Nature by Tomas Espedal

Héloise has lost all sense of how she ought to behave, she practically throws herself at Abélard, pulls him to the floor and straddles him as if they’re two boys fighting.

She presses him to the ground, pins his hands to the floor. She kisses his face and licks it. She bites his lip. She bites his cheek. She pants in his ear, shouts his name in his ear, she whips his face with her hair. She stops his mouth hard with her hand and takes his breath away. She rides above him the way she’d imagined that one day she’d ride a boy, a man, a beast...

Before, During, After by Richard Bausch

She reached up and brought him to her, then rolled over on top of him and began softly to move down. When she took him, still a little flaccid, into her mouth, he moaned, ‘Oh, lover.’ She felt him harden, and she tightened her lips and pulled, and then ran her tongue slow along the shaft, and then straightened and straddled him, guiding him into her, sinking and rising on him, head back, hands gripping his shoulders. It went on. It was very good.

Book of Numbers by Joshua Cohen

Her mouth was intensely ovoid, an almond mouth, of citrus crescents. And under that sling, her breasts were like young fawns, sheep frolicking in hyssop – Psalms were about to pour out of me.

Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff

She pushed him back on the sandy tar paper, and he was looking up at her face in the glow, and she lifted her skirt and moved the crotch of her underwear aside, and Lotto, who was always ready, who was ready at the most abstract imaginings of a girl – footprints of a sandpiper like a crotch, gallons of milk evoking boobs – was not ready at this oh-so-abrupt beginning.

Fear of Dying by Erica Jong

While I lie next to him, astounded by his presence still, he opens my silk robe and touches my cunt as if he were Adam just discovering Eve’s pussy.

‘Beautiful,’ he says.

And then he begins to run his tongue slowly along my labia, gently inserting one finger to feel for my G-spot on the front wall of wet pussy.

List of the Lost by Morrissey

At this, Eliza and Ezra rolled together into the one giggling snowball of full-figured copulation, screaming and shouting as they playfully bit and pulled at each other in a dangerous and clamorous rollercoaster coil of sexually violent rotation with Eliza's breasts barrel-rolled across Ezra's howling mouth and the pained frenzy of his bulbous salutation extenuating his excitement as it whacked and smacked its way into every muscle of Eliza's body except for the otherwise central zone.

The Making of Zombie Wars by Aleksandar Hemon

Far in the back of whatever was left of his mind, the light of reason was struggling against being finally extinguished and he was aware that wearing a condom would’ve been a good idea, but there was no way that he was getting out of her… She let him in so deep he didn’t have to think about her, and therefore he didn’t have to think about himself, but of course he was thinking about not thinking about himself...

The Martini Shot by George Pelecanos

She stroked my pole and took off my briefs, and I got between her and spread her muscular thighs with my knees and rubbed myself against her until she was wet as a waterslide, then I split her.

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