Reviewed:
You can tell a lot about a man by what he calls himself. God is the ultimate example, I suppose, but on a more accessable level, Sissycraver says it all. I didn't need a synopsis or codes, assuming this author wasn't Fagbasher in disguise. So, without much in the way of trepidation, anticipation, or even thought...I jumped in.
I'm a firm believer that a review should be shorter than the story itself, but like all fanatics, I temper my faith with hypocrisy.
(I just wanted to use that line. Sorry.)
Anyway, the first thing is technical: I give this story a five for technical and I'll tell you why. The structure is horrible. Things run together willy-nilly, without rhyme or reason. I've seen worse, granted, but this time I'm taking exception to it, perhaps because I missed the big meteor shower the other night.
Sissycraver, and all you other authors out there, remember this: Commas are free!! They come with the keyboard at no extra charge, so use them. If you don't know how, lurk in the bushes near any decent public elementary school and mug a fifth grader for his English book. Don't buy a textbook! Good grief! Anyone can take down an 11 year old! You might even get some lunch money if you do it in the morning.
And who says there's no profit in writing porn?
Next of all, the plot...I love the plot! It's a totally awesomely implausable, unbelievable, letter-of-the-month plot that we can all completely idntify with on a purely instinctive level. Don't change the plot at all, I beg you. A story like this demands a submissive sissy fag confessing his deepest secrets with little or no provocation and begging to be Papa Bear's bitch for the summer! Classic! I give you an eight for stickwithitness. Leave plot and character development out of it. We're not reading Shakespeare here! Heck, we're not even reading The Cat in the Hat, you know?
Original plots are completely overrated in this genre (the Letter of the Month genre) and only a complete moron would expect or want more, because...
It's a stroke story! That's all. I myself don't stroke anything but balls, I mean softballs, you know, during those father-daughter games that Boeing has every year...Anyway, this story is meant to be read in a huff. Bent over the desk with pants around the ankles, the door closed, the wife and kids sleeping soundly, and one meaty fist wrapped around seventeen dollars worth of raw tube steak.
The commas were sorely missed and I myself couldn't get off until I'd rewritten the story inserting proper punctuation, spelling, and the wife waking up and catching her husband buggering the boy. (She completely Tops the both of them in front of the mailman at the end.)
Anyway, what we have here is a very basic, run of the mill porn story catering to a specific (homosexual) fetish and offering us little in the way of surprise or innovation. It's a poorly edited letter of the month.
And I'm outta here!