Hellish Porn

There is something about a book with a dedication by the author that says “the following people are not allowed to read this.” I believe the named people are members of the author’s family. So right off it is either horribly twisted stuff or just sex. This one is just sex and was provided to me by the Library Thing Early Reviewer Program. I get the book; they get a review. I did ask for a copy of this novel because I enjoyed a different novel by SJ Smith, Peepers. This one is different:

The House of Fox                                          SJ Smith

Frank is jealous of his good buddy Dylan. His BFF has a nickname, Dylan the (euphemism for private investigator) that makes him quite a hit with any and all ladies. So much so that Frank has found a magic cream that will allow him to measure up to his best friend.

Dylan, Frank, Jane and Donna have been drinking. As it gets later, they decide to visit a restored sexual playground newly named The house of Fox. Sort of like the Hotel California; you can enter but you can never leave. That is the bad news. The good news, maybe, is that you can do all kinds of weird sex stuff. At least that is what all the characters in the story say.

While our four characters are exercising out their various weird desires, Donna figures out they are all in hell. Managing Madam Kitty explains it is all a put on for the great voyeur in the sky. The House of Fox is a sort of purgatory but “graduates” do not ascend to a better existence. Their only direction is Hell, a place where they will go should their activities at the House of Fox displease a supreme voyeur.

In fact, I could not find anything in the story outside my experience. This either 1) makes me a pervert according to the characters in the story or 2) leaves me to charge the author with boring rehash of things I consider normal. If I were to choose the second path; I would be impolite. I am very polite. (There is one exception outside my experience. I am physically unable to fire the ping pong balls in the way described. I was the catcher.)

To give you the “flavor” of the book, here is what I consider to be the best line: “They stole my fucking brain. They ate it right in front of me, then shat it back into my head. Now they call me shit for brains and laugh at me.” [Loc 2187-2188]  OK, then.

I liked Peepers. I should have quit while I was ahead (not to be confused with the head that was named Frank).

I was given this book by the Library Thing Early Reviewer Program in exchange for a review.

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