Knotted Road Press, $0.99, ISBN 978-1005539450
Sci-fi Erotica, 2021
The cover of Cole Braddock’s Dirk’s Secret Mission makes me roll up my eyes, because it’s like a kitchen sink overflowing with every trope associated with the stereotypical ugly digital book cover, but the fact this one is pretty cheap and the premise feels like a drawback to the golden age of pulp fiction sold it to me.
Dirk Thruster. The Man. The Hero. The Legend. Fourth Degree Tantric Belt. Defender of the Galaxy.
He’s going to have to work really hard to displace Flash Gordon in my heart.
The plot is some campy nonsense about Dirk and Senior Deputy Tiffany McGee having to stop some evil princess before she succeeds in becoming a powerful god and kills everything and everyone, but I don’t think anyone reading this thing cares about that. This is the first entry in the Penetrating the Forbidden Triangle series, and I don’t know what to say to folks expecting some serious discourse from a story of this sort.
I guess I shouldn’t complain given that this thing costs $0.99, but this entry is a short single chapter in an ongoing series. Mind you, there are longer stories, even full-length ones, costing this much these days, so this one has better be super sexy to make it worth the reader’s time. Unfortunately… well, have a read:
He tried, pumping harder as if he was truly going to split her in two now.
She moaned when his cock thickened, like maybe her pussy had finally reached its limits. He pumped, feeling what little control he’d had left slipping away.
Dirk blasted an orgasm into her like an arrow entering flesh. One pulse. Another. A third.
Stella might have had another orgasm somewhere in the middle, but he’d lost coherence, mindlessly jackhammering her pussy as he filled her with hot cum, unable to do anything else as he lost control.
Finally, everything seized up and Dirk collapsed atop her, covered in sweat, room spinning, light far too bright, even on the lowest setting.
Sigh. If I’d wanted this kind of step-one, step-two, step-three raunch, I could have found plenty for free online.
Sex in fiction is supposed to be grand. The key thing is tempo. Such a scene is supposed to be a symphony. There should be gradual shifts in pacing and key—adagio, accelerato, crescendo, con abbandono. Throw in some raunchy talk, perhaps some imaginative choreography befitting a supposed legendary studmuffin like Dirk. I don’t know, just give me some sexy moments that make me go, “Wow, this is some kind of good fictitious sexy time!”
As it is, the sexy time here is comparable to what goes on in the mind of someone that is just lying there, bored, and wishing that the fellow on top will just be done with quickly, while making a few moans now and then so as to not to hurt that fellow’s feelings too much. Step one, step two, step three. I’ll just quietly step out now.
