WARNING: The below contains the bizarre, sexually unappealing blow job scene from The Professor and the Dominatrix, with my comments inserted small and in red. Technically this is still NSFW, mainly because it will cause you to laugh hysterically and you won’t have a good way to explain yourself. While I am certain worse purple prose is out there somewhere…in fact, I think I’ve read some of it…this is still pretty darn bad. I think it’s just made all the worse because the rest of the book was horrendous as well. Best bits are bolded again.

Enjoy:

“The tape ended and automatically switched to rewind and off. Arlene provocatively lowered her eyelids as she smiled. Evan unzipped his fly. The Viagra had kicked in. Sexy. He bared Captain Marvel-of which he was clearly proud-for her enjoyment. Who wouldn’t be proud of having a super hero for a penis? Every neuron in his central nervous system was hopping in anticipation of what was to come. Cum, that’s it! Har. Without hesitation-and smiling in her peculiar off-center way-she slid off the ottoman to her knees and moved into position between his outstretched legs. In her Everyone’s Friend days, she carried a tote bag with dense-foam, Good Housekeeping recommended, purple-colored, gardening knee pads which she decorated with the white-thread monogram “Suck A. Cock.” WTF? I think I’d be running swiftly away if someone was like, Hold on baby, let me get my professional blow job knee pads out. Shakespeare might say that this book is an insult to all literature she had witchcraft in her lips. She could have worked at a Hindu temple. What the HELL is this supposed to mean? Become a patron saint to bonobos. Does Happy Monkey have saints now? Her most successful come on was to say, “I’ll open my mouth without showing my teeth and when I get to your size just nod.” I know if I were a guy, I’d cream my pants if a girl said that to me. … She used both hands together to bring Captain Marvel to full attention. She had seen more of those things than she could remember-little ones, big ones, ugly ones, pretty ones, long and skinny ones, short and fat ones, and of various complexion. She was a connoisseur. A gobbler of whangs par excellence. She would play around: sometimes putting an ice cube in her mouth, other times holding the object of her affection in a glass of ice water to shrink it-she would laugh and scream and laugh and scream in hilarity kind of like me reading this book-then take it out and work it to see how much she could make it grow, using a ruler to measure. Um…maybe it’s because I lack a penis, but this doesn’t sound too fun to me. She had made Captain Marvel go all the way from a cold two inches to a hot quivering eight. Van’s was thick, too, and pretty pink with veins like cords. Errrr…yum? His nickname in the football locker room was Sash-weight. I still don’t get this, but maybe I don’t want to. Can someone explain?

She said slowly with practiced shyness, “I love to do this.” He closed his eyes as she went down on him, attacking with the determination of a lioness. Ack!! No teeth, no teeth! Sounds exploded: a tap dance of suction cups; paratroopers boots being pulled out of the muck; lots of “ucks, ucks, ucks” with deep-throat gags and gasps thrown in; “pops, pops, pops,” the sound of a thousand atheists’s minds exploding at bad porn stoppers being pulled from bottles. To Van a wild symphony of pleasure. No one could ever say that Arlene lacked enthusiasm for her chosen specialty. In less time than it would take to skip around the house, Arlene’s fantastic enthusiasm did it. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” The fullback [he’s a football player] for god went spastic. “Awnnnnnhhhhhh!” He jerked uncontrollably as if having a seizure mmmm I know seizures totally do it for me, all the while spouting and spewing semen. We’ve sprung a leak! His robust moans became a whimper. Her eyes stayed right on his. Slurping, she threw her head back and, with the demeanor of a wine taster, swallowed. That skank. She then said the inevitable, “Good to the last drop.” …If hearing this after a blow job is inevitable, I think we have some problems.

This would be a double feature; getting him off fast without tiring him, then hours of fun, the second cuming. Aaauuugghhhhhhhhh puns. She would pop, pop, pop like popcorn, nine or ten orgasms anyway. Then on to what Dale [murdered husband] would not even dream of doing, something she really missed-pain, the sort of pain a mare experiences with a biting stallion on her back as they rut, rut, and rut in rutlust madness. Just what I wanted to think about, horsefucking. Van put her over his sore knees and spanked her. Because spanking is some sick kinky shit, right? Oh…not really? Dang.

BAD GIRL! BAD GIRL!

YES! YES! HARDER! HARDER!

[And then the phone rings, saving the reader from further literary torture]”