sexlit day is here at last
i have been rolling on zoloft since the conclusion of word idol, but today’s (slightly-rescheduled) second annual observance of sexlit day has been the light at the end of my freudian tunnel.
what is sexlit day? sexlit day is a way of posting the greasiest, oiliest, most prurient passages from our all-too-typically dry canon; think of it as mr. skin but for literature. these excerpts shall remain largely without commentary—because of the mélange of complex emotions that they my rouse in you, the last thing that you want to be thinking of is me over your shoulder with a wide impish grin.
a word of warning: while the ragbag is usually an all-ages show for puritans and neo-conservatives, sexlit day is that rare pagan bacchanalia where anything goes. thus: enable the v-chips on your computers if reading naughty words from literary virtuosos is not your thang.
the first excerpt is from phillip roth’s mastur(bation)piece, portnoy’s complaint (1969). grab yourself a catcher’s mitt and enjoy:
What if later, after the show, that one over there with the enormous boobies, what if…In sixty seconds I have imagined a full and wonderful life of utter degradation that we lead together on a chenille spread in a shabby hotel room, me (the enemy of America First) and Thereal McCoy, which is the name I attach to the sluttiest-looking slut in the chorus line. And what a life it is too, under our bare bulb (HOTEL flashing just outside out window). She pushes Drake’s Daredevil cupcakes (chocolate with a white creamy center) down over my cock and then eats them off of me, flake by flake. She pours maple syup out of the Log Cabin can and then licks it from my tender balls until they’re clean again as a little boy’s. Her favorite line of English prose is a masterpiece: “Fuck my pussy, Fuckface, till I faint.” When I fart in the bathtub, she kneels naked on the tile floor, leans all the way over, and kisses the bubbles. She sits on my cock as I take a shit, plunging into my mouth a nipple the size of a tollhouse cookie, and all the while whispering every filthy word she knows viciously in my ear. She puts ice cubes in her mouth until her tongue and lips are freezing, then sucks me off—then switches to hot tea! Everything, everything I have ever thought of, she has thought of too, and will do. The biggest whore (rhymes in Newark with “poor”) there ever was. And she’s mine! “Oh Thereal, I’m coming, I’m coming, you fucking whore,” and so become the only person ever to ejaculate into the pocket of a baseball mitt at the Empire Burlesque house in Newark.
