Author: Elijah Daniel
I have read some disgusting erotica for this blog: hucows, gay unicorns, gay raptors, that guy who came too much, a veritable smorgasbord of filth and depravity to cater to your every deviant need. But there was a topic that I would never have tempted the Fates to convert into erotica: Donald Trump. I don’t know if fate had anything to do with this, but alcohol and Elijah Daniel have conspired to create something that your most primeval nightmares couldn’t have conjured up: the image of Donald Trump’s naked ass.
I’ve followed Elijah Daniel (a.k.a. @aguywithnolife) on Twitter for ages, and found it hilarious when American news sites took a few of his tweets jokingly implying that he and Trump had had a sexual encounter and actually ran with it (as a side note, you Americans really need to come right). So, when he announced that he was going to get drunk and write some Trump erotica, my brain’s first reaction was “Oh sweet baby Jesus please don’t do this to me!”; once I got over the initial instinctual response to remove myself from danger’s path, I dutifully bought this little toilet tissue and gave it a read.
And that’s something I can never undo.
In 2012 our unnamed main character (let’s call him Elijah for the sake of simplicity) had a fateful encounter while working at the Trump Hotel in Hong Kong: he got to meet Donald Trump himself. The sheer site of this hell creature with the bad toupee sent shockwaves right through Elijah’s body, finally settling on his throbbing penis.
We all remember that one person who really wasn’t all that attractive but who we nevertheless wanted to throw down on the floor and do unspeakable and un-Christian things to: Donald Trump is the 7th Circle of that memory. With none of his own hair and spray tan everywhere, there’s just something about The Donald that drives Elijah crazy.
So when Donald unexpectedly invites Elijah up to his room that evening, Elijah’s thrilled. Decked out in a brand new suit that accentuates all that is good and doesn’t entirely show off his raging boner, Elijah makes his way up to the penthouse for a night of passionate, retch-inducing sex. But Donald has something else, something quite surprising that he wants to show Elijah. Quite surprising indeed.
The Writing Style
Look, Elijah Daniel’s no great writer, but if we consider that this is Donald Trump erotica (for fuck’s sake) and that the author was pissed out of his bracket when he wrote it, then it’s actually quite accomplished.
Accomplished in the sense that it’s understandable while maintaining that “I’m gonna make you throw up” feeling throughout. Granted Trump Temptations is only 20 pages long, so it isn’t like we were going for Tolkien-esque imagery or imagination here, but I don’t think that the world needs more than 20 pages of Trump erotica. Keep these 20 pages to say that, as a collective, mankind has written such a work, and let us never speak of it or attempt to replicate this feat again.
Amused and psychologically scarred.
To be fair there isn’t actually a whole lot of erotica going on beyond hearing about Elijah’s raging blood sausage and the site of Donald’s ass in pants (like a stack of pancakes, I’m told); what will hold your morbid fascination is the unrelenting, appalling thought that you may be subjected to Donald Trump getting it on with a bellboy in literary form. And that fear is more gripping and more damaging to the psyche than the reality ever could be.
On the up side Trump Temptations does contain some of the best descriptions I think I’ve ever come across in a book, erotic or otherwise (“His hands felt like an old dried out gingerbread house” or “So many questions racing through my mind, like a cool teenager on heelys in a mall”) – it gets points for that alone (although it, in turn, will be receiving the bill from my therapist).
This is the sort of literary drivel that no person with a shred of human dignity would waste time reading. Thankfully I’m all out of dignity, and I hope you are too.
My Final Rating: 3 / 10
Buy Trump Temptations at Amazon.com