[Note: The back cover blurb for Punk Chicken is an excerpt from early on in the book.]
Pete Dunn couldn’t believe that it was really happening, because it seemed like a wet dream. Yes, he could touch, smell and taste the stud.
“Eat my ass, teach,” Mark said.
The teacher spread the 18-year-old blond student’s furry buns and looked at the pink pucker. He licked the peace fuzz that clung to the kid’s body like moss to a rock.
Peter stuck his tongue into the kid’s ass and tasted the tangy bunghole.
“Tongue-fuck my butt, man. Stick your tongue way up inside and lick my ass.”
A student was so dangerous to get involved with. Everything was on the line — Peter’s teaching credentials, his reputation. But he couldn’t stop now.
I stumbled across this book and picked it up — it looked hot and it looked dirty, and the fact that it seemed to have no author, no publisher, and no publication data on it anywhere piqued my curiosity. I did some Google searching and I can only find a couple references to the book, mostly in LGBT archives. I wasn’t able to find an image of the cover (so I had to scan it for this post), nor any other real acknowledgement that it exists.
I kept wishing this book had some publication data in the front — specifically, the publication date. (And part of me wondered if there was no publication data because at the time it was published, this type of literature would have been underground or possibly illegal in some areas.) I tried placing it based on the content, but I wasn’t sure if it was a reflection of the time at which it was written, or if it was relatively newer and depicted a past time. If I read it right, gay sex was illegal in all US states except for California. A quick perusing of sodomy laws in the US indicates this takes place likely before 1979, at the latest (though Wikipedia seems to indicate that California was not the first state to strike down these laws) — and the book was in such good condition that I wasn’t sure if it was just well-preserved or it was in fact newer than the 70s. The sheer number of typos were interesting, as well, as they indicate a lack of editorial input or oversight. There were also a number of gay scene terms that I was unfamiliar with (which was a strong clue that this was an older book), though the context allowed me to catch on pretty quick.
I often tell people that Hardball is the hottest/dirtiest book I’ve ever read — but I think I’m going to have to change my response now. Hardball still ranks as the most intensely erotic book I’ve read, but as far as dirtiness goes, it doesn’t hold a candle to Punk Chicken. And, even then, it was dirty to such an extreme that I had difficulty taking everything in an erotic context. While, like Hardball, Punk Chicken had lots of bareback sex, frequent partner switching, rimming where the bottoms aren’t quite clean, and watersports, Punk Chicken also includes frequent BDSM and scat-play scenes. I was quite turned off by the scat.
However, all of this aside, if this was indeed written in the 70s or earlier, and if this is indeed a depiction of gay culture at that time, I find Punk Chicken to be a fascinating slice through the strata of gay culture. If it’s not an accurate portrayal, it’s still a fascinating read in what it seems to reveal about human nature. Characters plead with Mark, the main character, for him to be gentle, yet he treats them like scum, he physically hurts them (which is different than in a regular BDSM novel, as there are no safe-words or contracts, this is just plain abuse), then he sh*ts on their chests… and the guys on the receiving end finds this to be an intensely erotic experience and they beg Mark to come back and do it again.
There is a loose plot in Punk Chicken, involving the murder of Mark’s first fuck-buddy, Pete, who is his high school teacher. The evidence points to Mark and, since he was high on cocaine at the time, he thinks he actually did it. He runs away to San Francisco, which is where the bulk of these abusive and dirty sex encounters take place. The plot is quickly resolved and essentially swept under the rug in the last half of the last chapter, as if the author realized, “Oh, crap, I have to tie this up somehow.”
When I first set out to write this review, I was thinking it would be short — just a couple paragraphs. I’m quite surprised how long this has ended up… this short book of only 150 pages (with very large print and small size pages) seems to have incited a lot of thinking. It makes me wonder if in 30+ years, people will read through a gay erotica book from 2014 and be as mesmerized and in awe as I seem to be over Punk Chicken.