For the past few months my life has been inundated with romance novels. They have spawned two blogs, and become something for The Wife and me to do together. (For those of you who think the romance blogs are just me, think again, The Wife has a lot to do with it!) My house is covered with these paperback books. Their pages filled with some of the worst prose imaginable. The quote blog just can't convey the horror of engorged members and dripping cavernous cores that we have run across. Here are some of this strange things I have found lately...
Men have large massive things that the women are generally frightened of. They are sure it will never fit, and if it won't, are more than willing to get expanders to make it fit.
If a woman is kidnapped and raped by either a pirate or cowboy, they will fall in love with their captor. Pirates are kinder and gentler and often wait for the woman to willingly throw themselves at the pirate, overwhelmed with passion.
If the woman wants it the man is chivalrous and will resist.
Single mothers often have trysts with men in hopes of finding new fathers for their kids. They seem ready to jump in the sack with anyone good with kids.
Some of these freaking novels don't have sex... at all. They go on and on about desire and wanting and such, stopping just short of lust. Then at the end we have some paragraph like,
He stared longingly at the body of his wife whom he had waited to fuck until the wedding was over. She looked at him and her dress pooled at her feet. (Yes dresses are primarily liquid and return to their natural state upon removal) The bulge in his pants hid nothing (except all his parts) They fumbled to remove his clothes (Women's clothes fall off, men's require a monumental effort) He kissed her (she rarely kisses him) his manhood pressing against her sex (they always call it stuff like that) and they fell to the bed. The next morning they were happy. The End!
Yeah, it is always like that. One Hundred Fifty freaking pages of I want you, I want you too, no wait I don't then again I think I do. Then, once sex is legitimized by marriage, or convenience, they do it. Then the book fades off the the fireplace.
Orgasms are pretty much severe seizures or a stroke. They see dolphins, lights, waterfalls, and other things that suggest they are having a minor electrical brain fart.
Breast feeding is normal and fine. Thinking about a baby on breasts is sexy.
Many of these authors seem to have never had sex. It is almost like a high school virgin who has a 1970's sex ed book is trying to write a detailed sex scene.
Sue slowly took off her dress then removed her lacy bra. (just like the one in the Sears catalog) Her hairy triangle hid her thingy. Bobby dropped his pants. Sue kissed his penis then climbed on him. His penis went... into.... something. Then he... um... finished and fell asleep. When he woke up she was making him breakfast.
Plots are often strange and pointless in these stories. The woman needs help keeping her store from the evil robbers or landlord. The single mother wants a father, but with a good last name. The guy is heart broken over the loss of a wife and needs another woman.
In these historical ones, either the man or woman is exceedingly rich and the other is not. So the prim princess hooks up with the sweaty gardener or the rich lord mates with a maid.
Women are small, and can barely fit anyone yet he always fits just right, and she has a huge cavernous dripping core oozing juices.
Men have their own little seed fire hoses. They never specify what kind of seed, perhaps it is watermelon? Man, that would hurt!
Oh well, that is enough of the romance thing till tonight when we find more quotes and covers.
-Uncle Walter
romance.unclewaltersrants.com
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