Warning: This is a CRACKFIC, wrapped in a declaration of young, stupid love. If you have somethin' shoved uncomfortably up your craw, this is NOT the time to read this. And you should have that checked out…

AN: This started as a 'What not to write in a lemon' writing exercise for us. And then, as all great visions do, it sprouted wings and took flight. Now it serves as a tribute to one of our fav authors AND as a 'What not to write in a lemon' example.

A special thanks to Idreamofeddy for being a fuckawesome sport. All three of us WhitlockHarem girls worship the ground she walks on.

Extra special love to our beta for this, Stitchcat. I'm sure she got a migraine from it, and we love her hard for fuckawesome skillz.


Her knee-length, brown-brunette, satin-soft, lushly-curled hair swayed in the non-existent breeze as the shimmering, scintillating lights glinted and sparkled in her Hershey-deep, long-lashed, dark-but-in-no-way flat brown eyes. Her petite, delicate, temptingly curvaceous frame was swathed from throat to ankle, shoulder to fingertip, stem to stern and soup to nuts in a flowing, shimmering, virginal sheathe of purest white, whiter than the driven snow, whiter than the freshest linen could possibly hope to be even after copious amounts of Clorox bleach. Only her remarkable, unblemished immaculateness of spirit could create such a vibrantly colorless glow.

"Ah, I will make you mine, thweet paragon of womanlineth," he murmured into the thundering, crashing, heavy-metal beat of a love song that touched his heart with its tenderness. Thankfully the blaring music kept anyone from hearing the lisp that inevitably afflicted his words whenever he spoke. "Never fear, my perfect, gorgeouth beauty. I will make your claiming a thing of thuch pleathure the heaventh will weep with jealouth envy."

Edward wiped the drool from his chin. He'd found her at last. His fated mate, his perfect mistress, the other half of his soul, mind, heart, spleen, ribs, and assorted other anatomical parts which had never felt whole until now. He'd found her at last! The lock to his key, the oars to his dingy, the cream in his oreos, the plumbing for his snake.

But, he knew he must tempt her away from this place of revelry. He flowed across the dance floor like a cool breeze, untouchable, untouched, unseen, only to come to a shivering halt beside the beautiful wisp of womanhood who had captured his eye, mind, heart and imagination. Now he would speak, and woo her to his side for all eternity. Edward had been preparing for this moment for all his everlastingly-endless existence, and the perfect words quivered expectantly on his tongue.

"Are your pantth made of mirrorth?" He murmured seductively in his hotly red-velvet voice against the shell-pink curve of her delicate ear, "Becauth I can thee mythelf in them."

Her unfathomably, cavernously-deep chocolate, doe-like orbs of soulfulness zeroed in on the male who had dared to trespass into her virginal no-fly zone, but upon seeing the sheer colossalness of handsome poised beside her person, she couldn't help but admire the manmeat. Then her unfathomably, cavernously-deep chocolate, doe-like orbs of soulfulness traveled down the span of his boyishly muscular chest where his sentient little man-buds were standing at attention and inciting impure, dirty thoughts into her previously untouched, unfondled, pure consciousness. Continuing her salaciously-sensual gaze down what she was certain was washboard abs so tight you could bounce a quarter off of them and it'd come back to you as two dimes and a nickel, hiding beneath his flamboyantly homosexual violet silk leopard-print button-up shirt. Only a shirt of that tremendous, awe-inspiring, splendid amount of smoky smexiness could dare dream of restraining all of his unearthly, heavenly glory.

The next thing that caught her intense, concentrated, penetrating gaze was his bulge. Never before had she been drawn forth by a man-package wrapped in leather so tight it left little to the imagination, but drawn she most desperately was. Like elephants to water, apples to earth, a Klingon to Gagh, a worm to a hole, his glorious gift beckoned her with all the forceful force of a tractor-beam. His straining protuberance was simply bulge-tastic in the way that the swelling lump seemed to whistle the loveliest, original composition - a tinkling lullaby full of brown noises - straight to her unknown, and previously lifeless, lady hump.

The ivory sinlessness of her glowing soul still crisp with her bleached and lightly-starched virginity encouraged his audacious boldness, not that any prompting was needed. Edward's strengths of character did not include, nor allow the inclusion of, humbleness; self-hatred, pride, plentiful conceit and, of course, his obsessive love of hair-care products. Leaning closer again he whispered as loud and deep as was possible, "My love for you ith like diarrhea - I jutht can't hold it in."

Over the obnoxious thumping bass and the grinding of scantily-clad hussies with the man-whores on them like stink on shit, she couldn't hear what this god walking amongst plain dancing mortals had said, but based on his shirt and man-globe-snuggling pants, she knew pure, unadulterated fabulousness is what had come forth.

She knew that the first step to uncovering the hidden treasure in his trousers and coaxing his copious basilisk into her hymenated chamber of secrets was asking his name; therefore, she daintily mopped the deluge of spittle from her high, intelligent brow that had been deposited there by her god-like, bronze-haired suitor.

Giggling girlishly but yet maintaining the feminist values of her upbringing by not bowing down before him, and simply thinking happy thoughts of her immense independence, she blinked rapidly, inciting a typhoon elsewhere in the world - but that was of no concern to our blinking, doe-eyed damsel.

Opening his moist, wet, soft, tender, and luscious lips, he uttered the phrase, "My name ith Edward Cullen, and you are the future Miththuth Cullen, I prethume?"

The doe-eyed damsel batted and fluttered her long and lengthy lashes once more, before femininely uttering in a womanly voice, "Come again?"

Edward drew in a breath to repeat his manly, distinguished name again and once more for his beloved's lovely ears to receive, but was instantly distracted by the unique perfume of her own undeniably individual scent, which drenched the air and hijacked his senses; he easily discerned her precious olfactory signature despite the odors of sweating bodies, cigarette smoke, urinary indiscretions, and animal droppings that combined to create the nightclub's own romantic aroma.

Even her breath, scented with the conflicting aromas of jalapeño saturated nachos and tequila, could not detract from her gloriously floral bouquet; no, they simply added to Edward's longing for her. Clearly the drivingly romantic beat of the death-metal songs of yearning and unrequited affections were muddling her ability to understand his clear enunciation. Oh how he admired the weakness of her auditory sense! He, Edward, knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he could hear well enough for both of them and he would, so help him. Quickly and rapidly, Edward decided that names were not necessarily necessary for the exchange of souls, spit, and semen.

Yelling loudly and vociferously, Edward stated and said, "My love, nameth are not important, the only thing that isth important is the love I have burning for you in my heart and the fire in my lointh. Come with me now and my rod of love will thock you with it'th imprethive length and girth, yet I thwear on my thoul, I will bring you pleathure thith evening if you chooth to accompany me."

Edward gave the beautiful doe-eyed beauty the universal 'come hither' motion as he glided glidingly across the floor. His shoes were making enchantingly hypnotic noises as they stuck to floor, that was much less clean and pure than this beautiful woman, who was watching his buttocks sway in his taut leather pants like two horny raccoons fucking in a trash bag.

The damsel followed him, flitting gracefully and delicately through the throngs of tattooed and pierced patrons of the classy and elegant metal den, until she reached the door and found her beautiful and gorgeous manly hunk holding the door for her. She deftly danced lightly through the door, the handsomely handsome Edward two steps behind her. The two walked side-by-side, not uttering or speaking a word between them, as they carefully floated skillfully up the sidewalk, carefully stepping over the winos sleeping drowsily, attempting to block the path toward love and lust.

Eventually Edward once again spoke silkily, with satin dripping from his words, "My love I mutht know the name of the woman who thtole my heart tho completely and utterly. I need to be able to tell my mother your name when we arrive home before you accompany me to my den of thexual plethures."

Our damsel looked down bashfully and seductively as she quietly and softly muttered, "My name is Eddy, Idreamofeddy. And what is your name, my hauntingly beautiful soul-mate whose delectable buttocks have been tormenting my thoughts for the last twenty-six and a half seconds?"

He smiled at her smilingly before stating surely and matter-of-factly, "My name ith Edward Cullen, and you mutht be tired from running through my mind all night ath well. Pluth, it lookth like we were made for each other, for your name proveth you dream of me."

She shyly and demurely smiled at him before nibbling and biting on her lower lip, causing Edward's large-and-in-charge meatstick to begin throbbing and pulsating in his pants like a Mexican jumping bean. He took her to his sexily-seductive 1969 Vista Cruiser Station Wagon, and opened the door for her gracefully and smoothly. She slipped into her seat slinkily, and he closed her door efficiently before zooming around the car trippingly and entering the driver's side.

The drive to Edward's was routine and commonplace, and before Idreamofeddy knew it, Edward was literally and figuratively sweeping her beautifully dainty body off of her feet and through the front door.

"I'm home mother, and I'm not to be dithturbed!" Edward yelled over the blaringly loud Jeopardy game to the chunkily large woman sitting and watching the television, dressed in a rainbow muumuu, her mouth twitching slightly causing the sparkling hairs on her upper lip to move together in an entrancing dance.

Edward carried his fairly new love down the stairs, locking the basement door before setting his doe-eyed beauty down in front of the bed. He looked at her like she was the last steak on earth and he wanted to fondle it, before he said, "Don't worry, my thweet temptress, I shall take it thlow with you thith first time. After that I thall fuck you like an animal."

Before he could say another word, Idreamofeddy snatched off the shroud-like gown enveloping her, and gave a fantastic yank that sent her glorious globes of womanhood swaying as she ripped it off to reveal the secrets beneath. Edward bit his own tongue nearly in two as he beheld the skin-tight black leather bustier and g-string gracing her slender voluptuousness, before she produced a whip and handcuffs from within the voluminous folds of her lower lips. "Come, you rippling hunk of manly beefcake," she whispered shyly. "To the bed, for I am overanxious for your rigid and turgid manroot to impale me upon it's throbbing length!"

She did not need to tell him twice, for once was enough.

Edward quickly started stripping off his clothes, cursing himself for not using enough talc earlier. His leather pants were sticking to his sparklingly-sweaty skin, and he was fighting them ungracefully as he tried to free his throbbing pillar of flesh from their tight leathery prison.

After struggling and fighting with them unwaveringly, the beautiful vixen spotted a pair of rusty scissors sitting next to the latest copy of "Virgin Juggs". She retrieved them, and quickly and lithely cut the pants down the side, freeing the sexy gentleman and his bald-headed yogurt-slinger from their restricting hold.

Her deep, doe-like orbs of innocence spotted his straining, glistening four-inch rod of steel and her gaze turned predatory. One look at his one-eyed snake of wonder waving from its plentiful bushes had transformed her from hunted to hunter; she was now the virginal dominatrix of love, and he would be her most beloved bitch. With a quick lash from her leather love-whip, she had him bowing prostrate at her feet, but that's not where she needed him to be.

Her moistened flower was opening just for him, and she needed, wanted, desireth, ached for him to pollinate her for all he was worth and then more. "On the bed," she said in a sexually commanding voice that portrayed her innocence as well, "Now!"

"Yeth, my little thamb thop. I thall pleathureth thee till the wee hourth of the morn." The bronze, sex-hair god murmured huskily with raw want and spittle spraying from his words, as she pushed him onto his back, eschewing the view of Hans Solo on his Star Wars comforter, and then spread him like the fat-free sixty-seven-percent vegetable oil spread she used on her bagel in the morning, cuffing each of his sexy, not-limp wrists to the posts of his twin-sized chariot of love.

"Did I give you permission to talk, love?" Idreamofeddy purred out saucily, peeking at her captive Adonis with the nose of a pig from beneath her long, sultry lashes; she then brought her hand that was still holding her pussy-whip forward to crack across the chest of her beloved.

"I'm going to show you how much I love you in a way only a woman can, Edward Cullen." Idreamofeddy said in a bashfully coy manner.

You're going to thtart doing my laundry? I thought we were going to have thex?" Edward questioned questioningly.

Before our demure damsel could bring her hand down, giving him another lash of leather-bound love to prove she was, indeed, going to have sex with him, then maybe she would do his laundry, the manatee-like woman that was lusting after Alex Trebek in front of her television upstairs called from upstairs, "Edward!"

"Mother! I thaid I wath not to be dithturbed! I mean it, Woman!" He yelled, exasperated, after realizing they were indeed going to have sex.

As the music from Final Jeopardy rose in crescendo, so did their eternally-devoted love for one another. It mattered not that they were star-crossed lovers in a world of straight, narrow lines. Their massively all-encompassing love could, would, and should conquer all! As she impaled herself on his pulsating, circumcised light saber, much like the epic battle in a galaxy far, far away that his sheets depicted, she howled out in delight and euphoria, the likes of which had never been heard before, as his turgid life-force filled her moss-covered grotto and broke her barrier.

The pain was almost non-existent before it was totally nothing, and Idreamofeddy rode him hard, like a stallion at the rodeo, like an Ostrich in Persia, like a tractor on a farm, like a midget in a kangaroo pouch, like a clown on a drunk summer night in college. As he bucked, she whinnied and arched her back, which allowed him to conquer and go where no man had gone before. He panted loudly as he lisped out a prayer to the Most High One of thanks, and she wheezed as she put those Dancing to the Oldies workouts to good use.

"Richard Simmons!" She cried out in ecstatic ecstasy, as she continued to bounce, gyrate, and thrust, and he matched her move for move. Idreamofeddy would never doubt the Gerry-curled exercise guru of life again.

Our white knight paused in his upshot when the name of another fell from his pure one's plump, rosy, pouty plumped-up lips. No matter how tight the ass of that worthy exercise guru may have been, Edward would not be outdone. He bucked for all he was worth, and though his hands were indisposed, his feet were not.

On his next thrust upward, her back arched and he brought his feet in front of his dove, as he rejoiced at all of those years of yoga he had insisted on, so he could limber up for a moment like this. Her flesh-mitts were in her hair and her orbs of soulful soulfulness closed off her thoughts to him, but he caught her swaying, perky-nippled nubbins between his toes and twisted them like only a champion etch-n-sketch artist could. Her lids rose to reveal every thought passing through her mind that was whiter than snow, no matter where she had kept her handcuffs and whip. What did her eyes say? Well, they said, "Oh yes, Edward! Oh OH OH YES!"

Richard who? Thought Edward, as he continued to tweak the tips of her bountiful ruby peaks, while never losing rhythm. Their love beat to a different drum, one that had never been heard by mere mortal's ears, but if one could put a name to the angelic jingle produced by their sweaty bodies - her clashing, his wheezing and her groans, and his humming - it would be Ice Ice Baby .

Edward, the copper-topped, rusty-bottomed god of love and all things sexy, sensed in his nethers his beloved's accumulation accumulating through her pulsating love shack. With his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth in pure concentration, he trailed the toes of his left foot down her flat, tightly-toned stomach, over her abnormally large but still incredibly attractive belly-button, and down until he reached his goal: her other moist button hidden beneath her hood and landscape. His big toe made love to her clit like none would ever dare to again, and she shattered in rainbow-hued fragments of pleasure around him, causing him to release his load'o' glistening man-juice into her love chalice as they both bounced with their eyes glazed over. Their concentration was still on the fireworks that had popped off simultaneously with their orgasms, red, blue, and yellow sparklers and bottle rockets galore, until she collapsed exhaustedly-tired on top of her skilled lover, and he stayed folded like a pretzel, happily beneath her.

"My love, that wath the thingle most amathing exthperienth of my entire life." Edward purred cooingly to his soul mate.

"You bet your shiny man globes it was." Idreamofeddy said happily, with demure sureness, knowing that her life was complete now that she had fucked Edward Cullen.

AN: So…what'd'ya think? Push the button!