O, happy day!
But for World O'Crap, it would have passed me by--yes, it's that time for the Literary Review Bad Sex Awards, where acclaimed authors are called to task for writing below the erotic level of the Penthouse Forum. And, joy of joys, this year's winner is Tom Wolfe for writing a lurid and idiotic "expose" of the sex lives of college kids only to cluck at it and endearing himself to right wing hypo-, I mean the moral guardians of our culture. And boy is the winning passage a doozy.
Slither slither slither slither went the tongue, but the hand that was what she tried to concentrate on, the hand, since it has the entire terrain of her torso to explore and not just the otorhinolaryngological caverns - oh God, it was not just at the border where the flesh of the breast joins the pectoral sheath of the chest - no, the hand was cupping her entire right - Now! She must say "No, Hoyt" and talk to him like a dog. . .
I"m guessing this is supposed to pass as "humor". But you know that Wolfe wrote that and then went and jerked off while thinking intently on the pectoral sheath of a collage girl's chest.