REAL is a book about boxing and fame and broken dreams. It’s also a book about sex. Dirty, disgusting sex that’s full of grit and gravel and animalistic pounding (with cocks only). Sex that’s so ridiculous, that one Good Reads reviewer had to share it with her boyfriend. His reactions? Priceless. And how could they not be when one of the book’s lines is “He fucked my name right in front of me.”
Okay, first of all, how do you fuck someone’s name? Do you write it on a piece of paper and then thrust through it real good until there’s a hole and say “Yeah, your name is fucked now.” Or is she talking about some dude just swinging his dick around to form letters? Because that actually sounds pretty cool. That is a good talent to have. If I knew a genie I would ask for the ability to do that. (And also more wishes, because anything else is dumb.) (Yes, including world peace. You want world peace, you ask for more wishes and wish for it then.) (Back to name-fucking.)
GoodReads member Litchick was trying to get through the book, and the name-fucking therein, when she realized that she wasn’t going to get by without a little help from her fiancé, a man with some very animated facial expressions. So she did what any person faced with finishing a book of the most disgusting sex lines ever (trust me on this) would do: She read them aloud to him. Because if you’re going to be miserable over a Kindle book that you paid good money for, why not make other people join you?
Here are some lines from the book, with their accompanying reactions:
“My legs wobble, and I’m left with the distinct impression this man wants to pound me next. With his cock.”
“…he keeps making sexual foreplay to my ear…”
I’m sorry, I’m just imagining this dude, this fallen boxer, just thrusting his dick into the protagonist’s ear and murmuring “You hear that? It sound like the ocean? Hear them waves crashing against the rocks of pleasure? Hear the seagulls screaming for cock in the distance?”
“His hands clench on my hip, and my womb clenches with it so much it’s painful and o almost whimper.” This face says: “Yes, Mark, I agree with you. That is not a thing.”
“Seizing his hand, I squeeze it in between our bodies so he can feel all of what he smeared me with across my abdomen. “It means I’m going French this week and not showering so I can smell you on me.”
“This very moment I want to kiss my Under Armor sports bra almost as much as I want to kiss him.”
“He smells of fish and pure mean asshole.”
Congratulations, you are now tasting and smelling what you’ve just read and you have no control over it. Let the pungent fumes of halibut and ass sweat wash over you as you become more and more criticized , more and more satiated by the experience. (I literally want to die right now.)
This is just a sampling of whats in store if you go to LitChick’s full review. And only a small taste of the funky ass buffet that must be Katy Evans’ Real, a book which none of us ever need to read.
Images via Pilatogh