It probably goes without saying that more-people-than-not don’t read in this country. Now I know that you probably don’t want to hear me go off on some kind of rant about how illiterate we are as a society, so I won’t bother (though you are reading this post, aren’t you?). Instead, I’ll just list ten of the dirtiest books I have read that I think are definitely worth noting. Now some—or most—of these books are more than likely out-of-print as some of them date all the way back to the mid-sixties, if you can believe it. But, if you can find a copy of ANY of these books at a yard sale or at a used book store or on eBay or some other Website on the Internet (ah, the Internet!), do yourself a humongous favor and get them even if you’re one of those countless (lazy) Americans who don’t even read a newspaper on a regular basis. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed!
Bitter Fruit
by Roy B. Sparkia—This book, which I bought for next-to-nothing at a book sale in Springfield, Missouri, has got to be one of the most if not the most politically incorrect and fucked up books I have ever read. Sadism, lesbianism, incest, and even botched illegal abortions, there’s something for everyone in this book! The book is about a young woman named Melissa who uses her feminine wiles—and then some!—to get whatever she wants from anyone (and I, of course, do mean anyone!), which, of course, all severely backfires on her in the end (which, of course, you’ll have to read the book to find out how!). The following is an excerpt from page 100 of the book: “She was one of those rare ones who not only liked it, but had an inborn talent. Different from a whore who could go through skilled movements without liking it, without feeling. And different from the other extreme—the lover who gave it plenty of feeling but was clumsy at it. This one was a kind apart. She was like a Stradivari violin that could only give out rich tones, even in the hands of a lousy fiddler, because all of that feeling, all that emotionally generated expertise she was putting into her screwing was not for her partner, but for herself.” Need I say more?
The Man From O.R.G.Y.
& Dial “O” For O.R.G.Y. by Ted Mark—These books, which I bought again for next-to-nothing at a yard sale somewhere in Arkansas (I can’t remember where), are about a secret “sex” agent named Steve Victor who can make James Bond look like a celibate monk. However, you can’t easily dismiss these novels as merely trashy smut as they’re very well-researched as to their historical and cultural facts. Think Wikipedia meets Dear Penthouse—mixed in, of course, with a little James Bond—and you’ll get an idea of what these books are like reading. So, if you prefer your literary pornography mixed in with a little history lesson (that, of course, you DIDN’T get to learn in high school!), then these books are for you (if you can still find a copy of them, that is, since they were published in 1965 and 1973, respectfully). Too bad they never made films from these books, huh?
Christmas Cards From the Edge
by various authors—This book, which is one of the newer offerings on this list, contains three novellas from three different “chick lit” authors. The first one titled Return to Sender by Lisa Cach contains one of the most explicit, uh-hum, love scenes I have ever read in one of these books (and I have actually read a number of these so-called chick lit books, if you can again believe it). You might, of course, have a much better chance of finding a copy of this particular book since it was published not that long ago (in 2005, to be exact). And, for all you guys out there who would no doubt make fun of me for reading what are normally consider women’s books, all I have to say is if you want to know what your significant other really thinks of sex, just check out her naughty book collection, especially any of those “uber” hot Harlequin Blaze books; again, trust me, you WON’T be disappointed, plus you might win some brownie—as well as other—points from said significant other if she sees you reading the same type of books that she does, if you get my meaning, and I’m sure that you do!
Orgasmizer 9000 & Other Stories
by various authors—This book, also published in 2005, is another collection of three novellas (which, for those who aren’t literary-minded, is just a fancy way of saying extra-long short story) by three different female authors. And, yes, this is the actual title of the book, which is the reason why I had to get it when I first saw it in the ladies, uh-hum, romance section at, if I remember correctly, a Borders bookstore in again Springfield, Missouri (which, if I again recall correctly, the very same Borders bookstore where Sarah “Who’s Nailin’” Palin had one of her much-ballyhooed book signings). In any case, the title is from the third and final story in the collection titled Yar & the Orgasmizer 9000 written by Marie Morin that, while actually not as sexually explicit as the other two stories—Dream Warriors by Angelique Anjou and The Sexdroid by Jaide Fox, respectfully—would still make for a, shall we say, interesting movie. And, in case you haven’t already figured it out, all three stories are of the “sci-fi” persuasion, which, of course, just goes to show that not everyone who’s into science fiction is a geeky bespectacled virginal boy.
Xaviera’s Fantastic Sex
by Xaviera Hollander—Part sex guide, part sexual autobiography, this book was written by self-proclaimed “Happy Hooker” author, former prostitute and sex advice guru Xaviera Hollander. One of the most, shall we say, memorable parts of the book for me was the chapter titled “Xaviera’s Magic Mail” where Xaviera (and please don’t ask me how to pronounce her name, all right?) reprints a handful of letters she’d received up till then, and, in one of the letters Miss Hollander calls “Ball in the Family” (from the classic TV show All in the Family—get it?), a self-described “horny as hell” woman whose husband had been MIA (Missing in Action) in Vietnam has—how shall I put this discreetly?—inappropriate thoughts about her teenaged son which began after he, as she put it in the letter, “got a bad cut in his groin, right next to the scrotum” (ouch!) and she had to change his dressing daily and, as a result, she begins—again, how do I put this discreetly?—playing around with him. Anyway, the mother asks Xaviera if she felt it appropriate for her to pursue—get your barf bags ready (that is, if you don’t have them handy already!)!—a sexual relationship with her own son since she had been obsessing so much over her own son’s willy that she had been playing around with like a toy (again, get those barf bags close!) that she had been dreaming about it. Xaviera’s response (my paraphrasing) was that she should—of course!—pursue a non-familial relationship with a man she HADN’T given birth to. Hell, I could’ve told this woman that, couldn’t you? Anyway, Xaviera Hollander, who also wrote her very own sex advice column for Penthouse magazine appropriately-called “Call Me Madam,” was certainly a hell of a lot better at doling out sex advice than that feminized, publicity-seeking, self-righteous asshole Dr. Drew “I Hate the Shameless Exploitation of Celebrities Even Though I’m the Worst Offender!” Pinsky (and let’s not forget Dr. Phil “I Hate Women Doing Porn Even Though My Son Is Married To a Former Soft-Core Porn Model!” McGraw!)!
The Enjoyment of Amy
by John Colleton—This is probably one of the first “dirty” books I remember, uh-hum, reading in my household as a sex curious—well, sex crazed would probably be a more appropriate phrase!—youth and is so old—it was first published back in 1973—that about half of the pages have been chewed by what looks like either moths or maybe even rats. But even before one gets to, uh-hum, read the book, the cover shows a shapely woman sitting bare-assed on a sofa with her eyes shut and her head turned to the side and a sharply-dressed man whose face is not shown is standing behind said sofa and his crotch is strategically placed right beside the woman’s face. Subtle, isn’t it? And, remember, that’s just the cover! So you can just imagine how dirty the rest of the book is, can’t you, boys & girls?
Lady Davenport’s Slave
by J.T. Langdon—This is a full-on lesbian sex novel which was published by an Internet (ah, the Internet!) company called—and, no, I’m not making this up!—Pink Flamingo which is run by a woman who writes sexy bondage-oriented books herself under the name of Lizbeth Dusseau. As for this particular book, just to show you how truly dirty this book really is, there’s an unforgettable Thanksgiving scene where the “mistress” in the book named Myra is—how do I put this discreetly?—fucking her “slave” named Amber with a turkey leg and then for dessert smears pumpkin pie with whipped cream all over her hoo-hah and then . . . well, I think I’ll just let you use your imagination at this point, okay?
The Violation of Men
by Angel Ray—Another classic from Pink Flamingo, this novel is a collection of five short stories one even kinkier than the next. My own personal favorite: The Man Slave is a Deliverance-style yarn about a group of backwoods women who abduct, strap nude and spread-eagled to a bed and take turns raping—sometimes at gunpoint, sometimes not—a man (hence the “violation of men” title of the book). My second favorite story: Brendan’s Mom is a coming-of-age story—emphasis on the coming!—about an 18-year-old boy named Brendan who gets to boink his friend’s hot mom in perhaps the kinkiest ways imaginable; like, for instance, when Brendan gives his best bud’s mom, shall we say, anal pleasures and she makes him lick up his—again, shall we say—love juices. Gives new meaning to the phrase family values, doesn’t it?
Deliverance
by James Dickey—The Brokeback Mountain of its day, a lot of people probably don’t know that the, uh-hum, classic film starring Burt Reynolds and Jon “Karate Dog” Voight—who is, of course, Angelina Jolie’s dear old dad—was based on a book by author James Dickey (and, yes, the irony of his last name beginning with the word “dick” is certainly not lost on me!). And, yes, the psychotic hillbilly “gay” rape scene—in the film the rapee is played by Ned Beatty—is about as funny in the book as it is in the film (and I say “about as funny” since there is no “Yew got ah purty mouth on yew, boy!” or “Squeal like a pig!” lines in the book, for some strange reason).
Those Who Trespass
by Bill O’Reilly—Bill O’Reilly, for those of you who’ve been living under a rock these past number of years, is the top longwinded asshole on the Fox (Not) News Channel (and, given just how many long-winded assholes there are on the non-“news” channel, that’s really saying a lot!). Bill, as anyone who has the stomach to watch his insipid show knows, has had a field day going after artists whom he’s deemed a “subversive influence” on children such as his by-now-infamous boycott of Pepsi after they hired semi-controversial rapper Ludacris as their spokesperson (but, of course, said nothing when they “replaced” Ludacris with rocker Ozzy Osbourne, who once admittedly got so fucked up on drugs and/or alcohol that he actually tried to kill his beloved wife Sharon; but, then again, Ozzy was praised publicly by George W. Bush, so I guess in Bill’s mind that was okay). Anyway, Bill’s constant bitching about America’s moral decline spurned on by those “moral relativists” who run the entertainment industry in Hollywood is kind of weird when you consider that in 1998 he wrote this crime novel in which—and, again, I’m not making this up!—a 15-year-old crack whore gives a blowjob to her pimp named Robo who says to said teen crack whore, “Say, baby, put that pipe down and get my pipe up!”. Combine that scene with all the other sex scenes—e.g. an example of Bill’s, uh-hum, erotic prose: “Using a fair amount of pressure, he kissed her inner thighs, using his lips and tongue” (which, of course, begs the question what the hell else would he be using, his chin and elbows?!)—and/or murder scenes—e.g. one murder scene involves one person jamming a spoon through the roof of another person’s mouth and into their brain stem—along with various uses of the dreaded F word—which, of course, Bill goes after artists like Ludacris for using—and you got yourself one dirty book here! Also, if you can’t find a copy of the book, then might I suggest you give a listen to the audio version in which Bill reads his book verbatim, sex scenes and all. You’ll laugh till you cum (or puke, whichever the case may be!)! Guaranteed! (Note: Of course, saying this about Bill O’Reilly will probably get him pissed off enough to send one of this stalker producers—what Bill’O’s left-wing nemesis/fellow long-winded asshole Keith Olbermann rightfully calls them—after my ass, but that’s okay with me if he does. I mean, I could use the publicity! So how about it, Bill? Oh wait, I think I see Jesse Watters in my rearview mirror right about now!)
As if I haven’t said enough about the D-Bag already (and I call him D-Bag because in his sanctimoniously-titled book Culture Warrior, he continually refers to what he less-than-affectionately terms S.P.’s which stands for secular-progressives, whatever the hell that means!), here are a couple more things about Bill “The Almighty” O’Reilly: During his interview with former porn star Jenna Jameson (which you can probably find on YouTube), he called her a “slut” and a “whore” to her face and then later kindly referred to her as a “quasi-prostitute” after she had appeared in a shoe ad. However, according to Jenna in a couple of interviews, Bill “T-Warrior” O’Reilly (“T-Warrior” being another reference from his insipidly asinine book, the “T” standing for “traditionalist”; again, whatever the hell that means!) actually, uh-hum, requested to Jenna that she send him some of her videos, a charge, by the way, Bullshit Bill has never denied. But, then again, what more can you expect from a reputed falafel fetishist!
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