"Lick my cable ... git on yo' knees ... unzip it ... take dat shit out ... yeah, suck dat dick, suck it good ... stick dat ass out ... yeah, give it ta me ... ooh, yeah i's so nice an' tight ... yeah, ya like da shit hard, don'cha ..."

It's a bestselling love story, but "B-Boy Blues" by James Earl Hardy packs a zippier punch than Harlequin variety romance novels in which "Daddy got something for your ass ..." might seem a wee bit out of place.

"Shit, Baby, you so fuckin' tay-stee ... Le'me get all up in dat bad boy ... Yeah! Work dat dick, baby ..."

Hardy's fresh, young things have "ripe-for-the-plucking virgin booty," orifices that are "tighter than a bra on Dolly Parton," "double-down DSL's" (that's dick-sucking lips) and, of course, big, "a-swingin'," mesmerizing "love thangs."

"He was as long as a Charleston Chew and as thick as a cucumber," the "B-Boy Blues" narrator says by way of describing a particularly impressive organ. "It looked so yummy, I had to bite."