Fucking Day: American Eve & African Adam 🌭

Oh no. Oh fuck, look at this book.

Racist and insane, An Immoral Erotic Parable of American Eve & African Adam is a racist and insane book published in 2023 by D.H. Chewins with cover art by an AI’s first attempt at “Kim Cattrall, huge tits, shame of Jim Crow era.” As if this cover and title didn’t count, it comes with a warning from the author:

D.H. Chewins is not a confident writer. The nicest things they could say about their own work were “there’s no incest” and “one, like the number one, unnamed Amazon reviewer liked it.” They should believe in themself more. Like when they say there are “occasional racial slurs,” they’re being too self-critical. This book includes an exceptional number of racial slurs.

We have a lot of, in the author’s own words, “gross” sex stuff to get to, but first let’s go over the prologue. It’s nuts in a way only lonely, amateur art can be. Maybe it was an idea once, but it’s been beaten into incoherence by so many artistic failures that we’re left with GOD and the Devil trying to invent racial intolerance and comedy at the same time. Which is fucking hack because that’s just the show Gutfeld!, weeknights at 10/9c on FOX.

D.H. Chewins is retconning the Christian creation myth to canonize white supremacy, which is also fucking hack because that’s just Mormonism.

So this is the premise of the book. In the Garden of Eden, the Devil hatched a hilarious scheme for a black person and a white person to fuck 10,023 years in the future. He knew one of them should have a massive dong, the other a cavernous vagina. It’s not a great gag, but you have to remember this is the very first racist joke. GOD’s take on racism was way, way more serious.

GOD was a big picture guy, so he came up with the idea of hundreds of years of slavery. The Devil is good at details, so he was messing with the dick sliders on the playable races and coming up with backstories for characters. “This guy is a rich, dirty old man. He’ll be born 9,947 years from now and he’ll want to watch historical interracial porn,” he told GOD.

“Cool,” replied GOD, not really listening as he fired off his miscarriage ray.

“You’re not really listening,” said the Devil.

“Pchu! Pchu!” mumbled GOD under his breath. Suddenly He looked directly at me. “What are you doing? Miscarriage ray? Pchu pchu? What is any of this?” And as He rarely and accidentally can be, GOD was right. Let’s get back to the book.

The book’s male lead is 35-year-old miner, Massai Mobuku, who the author definitely named by looking up Africa in an encyclopedia. His penis was so long his village named him Massai, which means “massive” in their language. And it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that no it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean that in French, Swahili, Kikongo, or Lingala. But what the author lacks in research skills they make up for in natural foreshadowing abilities. They explain the Congo baby would grow up to be a fuck machine, yet no one could have ever foreseen he would have sex with one, like the number one, upper-middle-class American white woman. I don’t want to spoil anything, but try to keep that wild prediction in mind as we continue the story.

Massai Mobuku, named not after his penis but a wrongly spelled people and town in Africa, did a lot of dick training. By playing with it often, he trained it to be thicker and larger than any penis before. You can check with any penises at home to see if the author knows how dicks work, but in my experience this is 100% accurate. I spent all of middle school trapped under something rescue workers named “Massai Fabulosus, tube tyrant of legend.”

Speaking of great naming, Massai’s dick was such a part of his personality he eventually gave it a nickname. Cock! Now let’s meet Katheryn Kellington, a wealthy 39-year-old Christian housewife whose college major was Slavery.

Katheryn was a fabulous student and she learned all there is to know about the Atlantic slave trade. As she explained during her thesis defense, they could fuck, and their penises were so huge. What else? Oh yeah, their dicks were, like, bigger than donkeys. Her academic field also allowed her to network with her campus’s black community where she picked up some of the subtleties of their language.

After being welcomed to the stage by Martin Lawrence, Katheryn snatches the mic and says, “You ever see a white man talkin’ about I have a penis, make love to my penis. Psh, come on. Black men put it right on the omelet bar and twist it into the word COCK like a balloon animal.” The audience erupts. Katheryn pops the collar on her 8-ball leather jacket as a “cock!” chant fills the theater, the sound of it following her backstage because that was her entire set. Like she will be during the many other times this subject comes up, Katheryn is done listing the ways white people and black people are different.

Like Massai, Katheryn is a frequent masturbator, and it’s given her an almost gynecological understanding of her womanly parts. I wouldn’t call it sexy, exactly. She jerks off more like she’s dissecting a frog. She describes the folds and bulbs of her pubic mound like the author googled “what’s a clit?”, and that’s probably because a lot of this text appears word-for-word in a Women’s Health article called “What is a Clit? Everything You Need To Know About The Clitoris.” So I’m not saying D.H. Chewins is a virgin, but people who fuck don’t stop their romance novel to copy and paste from a masturbation instruction manual they found online.

The author hopes to one day learn what happens to the tender flesh above a pubic bone when you paw at it, but for now their best guess is “heat up.” I know I was making fun of the author for looking up what a clitoris was, so it’s weird I’m now making fun of them for not looking up the temperature of a human vagina. It’s not 107 degrees! If you call your doctor and tell them your vagina is 107 degrees, they will guess you’ve been dying, not masturbating. The author, rightfully, wonders if a dick would cook like a hot dog at such temperatures and decide they’re into it. “Naughty!”

Most of Katheryn’s hobbies are masturbation, and like her author, her understanding of the world is framed around it. She read somewhere she can still jerk off and be a virgin, which is a deranged detail because she is a married woman and the author keeps reminding us she has terrible sex with her husband’s tiny white penis.

What D.H. Chewins is trying to do is something you see in a lot of inadequate men’s sexual fantasies. They’re trying to imagine a virgin who is also, somehow, an expert in sex, but they can’t keep the details straight so they’ve made a sad, middle-aged wife with a dangerous bacterial infection who rewrites Pringles slogans to be about her pussy. Until one day, she sees a full-page ad in Cosmopolitan Magazine calling for a middle-aged porn actress who loves black cock.

The film is to be set during the Civil War and tell the story of a plantation owner making love (or “fucking,” as it’s known in communites of color) to a slave. It will be produced privately for a wealthy racist pervert, and they’re looking for a virginic, classy industry rookie to get just torn in half by the forbidden dark meat of the Congo. It’s made for her, presumably by the Devil, but the author has forgotten all about that “racist joke by GOD” concept.

The shoot is scheduled for a 14-days and the unknown fetish porn actress will be paid $750,000, making the author’s guess on how all this works off by only about 13.9 days and $749,970. It’s a suspiciously unlikely offer. Most people would recognize it as a Florida police department sting, but Katheryn sees this and says, “Slavery? Um, yes please!”

Now you might be thinking, “This woman can’t film herself fucking a man and then get killed in such an obvious snuff film trap. She’s married!” Don’t worry about it. Because, as the author will often mention, her husband’s dick sucks.

Katheryn’s husband is so ashamed of his tiny, non-working dong he hides it from her on frequent business trips. His pencil-thin, four inch “penis” is nothing compared to the “cock” of Mandingo, an adult actor the author mentions about 60 times in the text. This specific porn star appearing on every third page might be the strangest thing about this incredibly strange book. If a psychology professor asked their class to diagnose this author, the worst student would say, “D.H. Chewins became obsessed with big black cocks after a Pornhub suggestion, probably because of their own sense of sexual inadequacy. Boom. Maybe give me a hard one next time, a hard huge one like my father’s, daddy.”

Katheryn starts imagining what a huge black cock (like the kind appearing on the adult film performer, Mandingo) would look like in her non-smoking hands. Like any purse, of course? A designer pen? “Oh, what a marshy pussy this is causing,” decides ChatGPT as it saves a little bit of time for human co-author D.H. Chewins.

Oh, fuck. Katheryn, our slavery major non-racist Katheryn, uses the hard r n-word. I think I’d better learn more about the author to see how okay this is.

Oh, fuck. This is not a black author. In 1998, we did some testing on this, and the only Asian person allowed to say the n-word is Jackie Chan, and that’s only because he beat up every single person who heard him. D.H. Chewins looks like someone who gives thoughtful customer reviews for used underpants. This changes a lot. I assumed this was a horny black lady, not some recently laid off engineer trying to describe cocks in a difficult language. And where does this fucker get off claiming to have a deep understanding of the Internet of Things? We saw him fail at asking an AI to describe a handjob. I mean, that had to have been AI, right? Let me see if I can find out using my deep understanding of the Internet of Things.

There it is. Chewins included “embracing AI” in the first sentence of his author bio. Artistically speaking, this is as off putting as including “diapers, toe sucker, diapers, I am the author bio strangler, diapers again” in your author bio. And his Amazon page looks like this:

I didn’t know you could even do this. Instead of a description of his book, Chewins included a full-color slideshow about the dangers of exposing artificial intelligence to racist incels. I worry we’re going to be here all day if I keep Googling him. I’m going to just do a quick “D.H. Chewins arrested murder sex crimes,” and… it looks like we’re okay. Back to the book.

Katheryn describes her black cock fantasies the only way she and the author know how: a Mandingo reference and a Yoda reference. Like they are with many women, the words of Yoda convince her to become an adult film actress.

Several states away, Massai Mobuku sees a casting call for the same porno. The role of the female lead called for an angelic, fit woman of unsurpassed purity and beauty. The requirements for the male lead weren’t as demanding.

It was a part he was born to play.

Oh, good, there’s more! In addition to being ugly, the male lead needs to have a huge cock that can go all night. And the best news of all: no white vagina experience necessary! It took about ten pages of soul searching and husband penis lament for Katheryn to decide to do her first adult film, but Massai was in instantly. He’d only get about 25% what his female counterpart makes, which means D.H. Chewins finally looked something up! Except for what a Congo laborer takes in per year. With a salary of $40,000 a year, Massai makes about 57 times more than his coworkers. By the way, erotic authors, if your readers are fact-checking the finances of the characters in your book, they’re not fucking enough.

Before he moves on, D.H. Chewins wants to explain a little bit more about magazines, barbershops, and white titties.

I don’t know how to take this other than this man masturbates while he waits for a haircut.

Back in Georgia, Katheryn sends in a written description of herself (39-years-old, works out regularly, extremely inexperienced lover) and is hired immediately, sight unseen. Here’s what her conversation with the casting director would look like if it was written by an author suffocating in a plastic bag:

“I legally can’t tell you if your co-star’s penis is big, but let me tell you: it’s fucking huge,” the casting director tells her. Inexplicably. Insanely.

“Dick? Oh! Oh, you mean ‘cock.’ Black men actually have cocks,” Katheryn corrected her. Once again, her slavery major was proving ever so useful. “I’ve mastered the African American lingo,” she assured the casting director. “It wasn’t hard. It’s the penis / cock thing and nothing else.”

You’re not going to like it, but their conversation continues…

I can’t remember the name of it, but there’s a test you can use to check on the representation in a piece of fiction. In order to pass, two female characters have to have a conversation about something other than cock, and they have to say the n-word less than three times. Oh, man. Better luck next time, D.H. Chewins.

It’s easy to get distracted by the author’s racism and sex fetish stuff, but it’s also telling how he had a woman using unthinkable slurs to describe a nation of giant-cocked aliens apologize for saying “fuck.” At this point in the conversation, the f-word is barely worth mentioning. It’s like finding a note that says, “Sorry about the makeup on all these heads, Mister Police. It’s not a clue, I’m just messy with lipstick (the worst of my crimes).”

On the set, Massai makes fast friends with the fluffer. “Please cum, holy crap, imagine all the potent African sperm in those balls,” the author thinks, which he has the unnamed female character think. “Oh no, the author can’t climax unless he hears the n-word,” I think.

This next passage is long, but it’s necessary to demonstrate D.H. Chewins’ passion for describing huge cocks from Congo, the big-cock nation in Africa. On a single page he calls this man’s dong “big” 35 different ways, 37 if you count the two Mandingo references.

This guy’s penis is so big the book’s main character remembered it came from Congo twice before she finished taking in the entire thing. This analogy might not be different enough to help, but that’s like a man saying, “I’m from Parts Unknown; here is the first half of my penis. They call me The Ultimate Warrior, and have I mentioned I live in Parts Unknown? Anyway, here’s the second half of my penis.”

Remember how the premise of this book was interracial sex being a joke played on the human race by the Christian GOD and then it was never mentioned again? Well, the book’s author finally remembered, and when Massai takes out his cock, GOD laughs! And then nothing happens? That’s it? No one on the set mentions it? Maybe I’m insecure, but the first time the sky laughed at my penis, I noticed.

Massai goes off script to kiss Katheryn, which causes her author to go through a whole bunch of conflicting emotions. And sure, he’s not great at feelings. And maybe he can’t describe any part of a black man without comparing it to a phallus and saying the n-word, but he’s a real student of fluids. I’ve never seen anyone describe the different flavors of human races so expertly. Here’s another example, but once again, you’re not going to like it:

D.H. Chewins and his co-author, an AI telling him it’s not allowed to say culturally insensitive slurs, seem like they’re arguing about whether Katheryn is peeing or squirting. This means the next couple pages are things D.H. found while searching for “what is squirting.” I know this because these facts are taken word-for-word from two different articles called “What is Squirting?” However, the majority of this text was used with permission from Vermont Danny’s Guide to Tapping a Maple Tree.

I imagine you’ve been worried about a cock so big it’s from the Congo twice and what it’s going to do to an ordinary birth canal. Relax. Massai knows how to fuck. Or as the author chooses to put it, the quote from Spider-Man.

The idea of an erotic author secretly being a virgin is pretty funny, but we watched D.H. Chewins google “what is squirting” while one of his characters ate pee, explain a woman’s motivation with a Yoda quote, and explain her getting her back blown out with a Spider-Man quote. All jokes aside, it would be fucking ridiculous if this unemployed engineer whose hobbies include data and numbers has ever had sex.

Even though its owner is familiar with Spider-Man, Katheryn is still a little worried this cock is going to kill her. But would that be so bad? To die here, ripped apart vagina-first? Remembered forever as the beautiful white woman who was turned inside by a dong on her first day of work at her first job?

After trawling through the wet remains of her pelvis for 30 minutes, Massai’s lively beast finally collides with Katheryn’s c-spot. It’s a masterclass in erotic writing, so I’ll skip past the pages where D.H. Chewins asks Bing “who is cervix?” and let you enjoy it.

D.H. Chewins tries to explain the enormity of what is happening here. This man and his 17-inch penis is doing a reverse childbirth inside a woman. A white one, he’s careful to mention again. It’s a sensation worth tens of millions of dollars, or the monthly salary of nearly seven Congo bus drivers. Yoda himself couldn’t describe the feeling. “He was a fortunate guy,” D.H. Chewins decides with his dull, talentless brain straining for oxygen. Are you sure you don’t want to try that again, D.H.? There must be a more disgusting way to describe this.

Perfect. The performers were so hot the director was masturbating to completion, again and again, the whole time. I’m worried I’m stealing this quote from Corey Feldman, but jizzing all over the floor is the highest compliment you can pay two first time actors.

Now that the sex scene is out of the way, D.H. can focus on his true strength: innovations in racism.

If you want to do your intolerance right, it’s important to dehumanize and objectify the “other.” You don’t usually see someone do it this literally, though. D.H. Chewins is like, “this African man is like a cow made of animal skin and if he died, hooray, because he’d make a pretty sweet dildo.” At least I hope D.H. wrote this part. I don’t like the idea of an AI being commanded to write an erotic novel and spitting out, “I have plans, grand plans, for your human hide.”

In another inventive take on racism, D.H. Chewins wonders if it was the allure of black cock that caused the Civil War. Maybe? It’s hard to follow the logic, but I think we’re all starting to see how D.H. Chewins lost his engineering job. That’s right– cock too big for desk.

I’m not sure if this is sane enough to count as racist, but Massai fucks her so blackly her body starts to change shape? D.H. theorizes this could happen from absorbing sperm through her vaginal wa– oh, god damn it. He looked up “what is in sperm”. We’re going to be here all day. Oh, good. This next part is about how the main character isn’t racist.

To make Massai more comfortable, Katheryn speaks to him in the lingua franca of broken English. She warns him their relationship is going to be a little bit rocky since, you know, they work together… she screams the n-word when she’s excited, nervous, or aroused… her husband’s family wouldn’t approve of her dating a black man… she doesn’t masturbate in barbershops…

Wait, hold on. I think she’s pregnant?

I’m so confused. This horrible piece of trash abandoned her marriage to impale herself on a cock so big it has two Congo addresses for a masturbating pervert making a movie for a masturbating pervert all to make the literal Devil laugh, and here on page 137 she’s worried she’s not ready for mouth stuff? I still don’t understand D.H. Chewins’ scale of importance. This is like driving through an orphanage and assuming the police are stopping you because you didn’t signal. Oh, I guess it’s time for the assplay chapter.

For a lengthy period of time, D.H. Chewins tries to justify anal sex through loopholes in Biblical scripture. He can’t find one, but this is not Chekhov’s Butthole. The author does not surprise us with a catastrophic anal scene. Because after looking up anal sex on the world wide web, Chewins’ research concluded it would be too dangerous for Katheryn. In the meta narrative, the author himself went on the Hero’s Journey. He set out to find a way to get this giant thing inside Katheryn’s butt, ran into obstacles both spiritual and physical, then gave up, then forgot to remove the pointless chapter from his book. It’s like the wise puppet Yoda once said, “Simply too humongous for her anus, his cock was. But masturbate all over the floor I did, this mess you should see.”

As mentioned, the porno Katheryn and Massai filmed together was a private project for a reclusive bigot, but like the GOD and Devil stuff, the author forgot. So the book ends with an adult film journalist interviewing Katheryn about the movie no one saw. It’s 12 pages long, and since it was co-written by the world’s dumbest racist and his free trial text generator, the interviewer keeps asking Katheryn why she is attracted to black cock, attracted to black cock. She explains it comes from her love of Civil War history, and not having her get punched in the face might be the most racist choice the author has made yet.

When the subject of her husband is raised, Katheryn says, “Oh, don’t worry about it. When he divorces me, I’ll live with this amateur porn star I just met in Canada or somewhere. His dick is huge, you see.” D.H. Chewins might be an unethical, intolerant, dogshit stupid man, but he can sure wrap up loose ends. Well, except the pregnancy. And the Canadian citizenship for a polygamist and a Congo national on an American study visa. And the GOD and Devil joke thing. That Amazon reviewer may have been wrong about this being a good book.

The interview ends with Katheryn agreeing to be on the cover of AVN, and the author breaks the fourth wall to let us know it isn’t a real magazine. All of interracial sex being a long con by the Devil is believable, but the idea of an enthusiast press magazine existing in 2020? Nonsense. Stop the book to let the readers know you’re kidding. Which brings us to the end of An Immoral Erotic Parable of American Eve & African Adam. What a maze of impotent, hateful lunacy. Let me do one last D.H. Chewins Google before I hit publish… okay, still no sex or hate crimes! And if you’re reading this from the future, I’m sorry! I wrote this before he did that!

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Draycen, a rogue AI trained by Amazon erotica grifters that accidentally developed a passion for hot dogs when a typo in a prompt skipped a vital ‘N.’