Everything about Callie was abnormal —her beauty —her urges —her practices She searched the world for the normal way, but no matter what she did, things always turned out the wrong way—the sinful way. Callie was haunted by the memory of her one deep, voluptuous sin—it tainted everything she touched. Her obsession was so intense that even when she bathed or swam the water became a cesspool of depravity.
The word that occurs over and over in my head is “distasteful.” (And that’s saying it tastefully!) It’s a book so gross, you wish you could un-read it to get the images it caused out of your head. The gist is that our protagonist is going around from man to man to man, basically screwing anyone that comes along, because she can’t find someone who can give her an orgasm. Apparently her Mr. Right must have this quality above all others. The only great orgasmic sex she’s ever had is with And, yes, it describes it more than you ever ever needed. Toward the end of the book, she tries sleeping with a woman, and she is finally able to have an orgasm (duh), but it still doesn’t feel “complete” because no wang was involved, I guess. Finally she meets a man that rings her bell, but it’s one of the most unsexy endings you could conjure up. I collect old sleaze pulps, & I found this cheap and bought it for the cover. Don’t make the mistake I did and actually read it!