"Can we, as a country, all
and gentlemen, over the past six years
I have opened hundreds of letters containing
god-awful erotic fiction that idiots submit
to Exotic. Usually I just throw it all
in the trash. How many times do we have
to say it? Exotic DOES NOT accept fiction!
However, this was the most unbelievably
foul piece of crap ever to cross my desk,
and I felt it only fair I share it with
you. I have edited it as sparingly as
possible. Happy Holidays.
in the frenzy of opalescence craving for
a man. Undulating from the anticipation
of fingered sweat all over the mountains
of curvature and skin sensation. Clots
of oppression shiver inside as the fire
burns seething from desire within. So
she puts on a second skin to prepare for
If only the outside could handle her naked
presence. Legality is the mount of bondage
with society. Exciting but this doesn't
serve her purposes at the moment. The
silent but seductive lace displaces not
a fiber of her being as she so delicately
slips the string underwear over her rose
pink legs. Tenderly she moves in rhythmic
waves as her soft breasts are cuddled
in midnight blue satin. She sways humble
with natural balance as one foot penetrates
through the shear silk nylon. Her liquid
begins to moisturize her fold's anticipation
as the leg goes deeper into the fabric.
She slowly lifts the other leg repeating
the same lovely act of self-seduction.
She then begins to pull the stockings
up around her tender hips. With fingers
so long and beautiful she slowly and intentionally
moves her hands around her hot behind.
"Underneath me," she thinks as the reflection
shimmers back at her. "Underneath and
inside me." She fantasizes the hopeful
find of a partner, a man. She walks with
a sense of weakness; getting dressed is
so lustful. With this in mind she spots
a modest dress, plain and conservative.
"Perfect topping for watching," she thinks
as the dress falls over the now concealed
Like clockwork with keys and purse, she
leaves out the door locking with a kiss
for protection. As she slides into the
car her dress works past her wetness.
She starts to pull the
down but stops remembering the delicious
sensation of the dress sliding up. She
starts to slide back and forth on the
seat of her car. Without restraint her
hand begins to softly finger her clitoris.
Her insides shiver unpreceptable shocks
of excitement. "The anticipation for
a man," she moans as her hand leaves
to place the key into the hole. The
engine ignites in sequence with her
The movement of the ride, slipping and
sliding from one lane to another, warms
her. The faces of so many sexual beings
staring, cursing, bored, and unaware
of being observed. The hunt for perfect
virgin prey pulses deep inside her from
the deep dark hole of creation, up along
the electrical pulse of the spine into
the tip of her tongue, and she tastes
the drips of life. Her appetite increases
as she nears her favorite hunting grounds.
All types of beautiful silk covered
wands, with bodies of boys and men,
slim, full, strong and weak. The hands
are so important to the touch. "I love
the hand that touches me, the sound
of the breath at climax, the movement
of the body as it swims with me," she
says out loud as she pulls the key out
of the hole.
She puts on her wire frame glasses and
steps out of the car. Her appearance
is simple with a soft flowery pastel
dress humming with the movement of her
walk. Her shoes click a rhythm that
the mariachi dancers use to warm up
in the beginning of their seductive
marching scene. Although she seems simple
and somewhat prudish, her aura and charisma
seethe out tendrils tickling the very
backs of the crowd's ears. People of
men stop in a pause of time as she walks
by them. They shake their heads in question
as to what possesses them at this moment.
Her natural fragrance is the signal
that pushes one particular gentleman
to notice her passing by.
Calculations and schedules punch up
on his pocket computer. Streams of reflective
light parade and dance in his eyes.
A subtle swish draws his vision away.
The eyes attune with the ears as a simply
dressed woman walks by. He looks back
at his laptop, only to be drawn away
again by some strange
sense. He watches the plain maiden
slowly walk away through the park
with a rhythmic "click it ti clock"
of her dance. He feels the tip of
his manhood inflate in response to
this image of a woman simple and quaint.
Internally instincts are triggered
off by the silent scent of her sexual
secretions. Her tendrils of aromatic
energy stretch out and softly caress
his quiet energy body, fluffing it
out to extend towards hers. Without
thinking, he starts to walk toward
her. He suddenly realizes the vulnerable
state of his protrusion and tucks
it in an unnoticeable position. The
touch shoots a shattering effect upon
his body and he quietly exclaims "Holiahhaammm."
No time to reason out this unusual
sexual arousal. He quickly strides
upon her path. He slows to the same
pace and rhythm as her walk, to observe.
Before him is the soft movement of
paced sensuality. Her legs sway the
body in a measured gait. The hips
move the motion of infinity, magnetizing
his hips to hers. His breath chokes
up from the fiery beat generating
from the primal forces so long dormant.
All he can do is follow. Confused
within the man still follows the woman
like a hopelessly possessed male,
a homosapien with a desperate need
to make love. As the pace of the follow
increases so does the pounding heat
between his legs. This kind of behavior
was not him at all. She turns and
glides into a store. He follows so
discreetly as to be just within the
field of her emanating aura.
The smell of fresh herbs and flowery
essences rises inside her nostrils,
filling her with a feeling of great
refresh. She seems to stand in a pure
moment, basking in the sensations
that arouse her deep maternal oneness
with the natural products in the store.
In this silent space, which seems
to hover right above the movement
of time, a tingling shimmer runs down
her shoulder and right into her womb.
She feels someone looking at her.
With a haunting knowlege of every
calculated move, from this new discovery
she manipulates her muscles in a sensuous
way towards the tingle. There, a golden
blond man with chiseled features and
the twinkling green eyes of a virgin
prince staring at her. He is dressed
in a fine silk suit; his shoes are
worn but newly polished. He cuddles
a laptop computer down by his waist
in front of his zipper. His hands
are long and perfect, without callus
or dryness and have the grace of healer's
hands. His lips are swollen with thick
wet softness. He stands there filling
the room with an odd presence, as
if not belonging in such a store,
but belonging to her. Like x-ray vision
her natural insight sees the gentle
curve of his shoulders melting strongly
from his beautiful neck. His chest
is firm with form, begging liquid
to be spread upon it. His waist and
stomach do not lack attention for
form, tight and firm in gentle slopes
of strength. His legs are perfectly
straight like the secret hidden by
the laptop computer. She could detect
some sinew shapes of grace as a dancer's
legs portray. The fibrous light that
seems to reach for her is pink and
red with beautiful glowing hues of
midnight blue. Her breasts yearn to
be caressed by his energy through
his hands and lips. She opens her
field of energy to allow his to touch
her heart. She looks up and gives
a little smile.
As he sees her eyes for the first
time his eyes grow wide. They are
deep pools of shinny night with
a sleepy cat like shape. Her race
is that of an ancient race, of a
people smiling the pearls from
a sea rich with oysters. His mouth
opened ever so slightly feeling
a tug at his throat. A chilling
sensation warms down through his
chest and enters his stomach.
He feels his face rush up hot.
A flash of white light blasts
through as the sound of his pocket
pager hacks away at his sensitive
state. He reacts drastically,
practically dropping his laptop
computer and quickly grabbing
at his pager, while the longing
protrusion seems to swing in the
way of his efforts.
She saw the wand she was after.
There, before his body of perfect
proportion was a wand of fire.
Its majestic appearance etched
it's image along the silk surface
of his pants. It was a holy object,
alive and undefiled, filled with
the sacred elixir of immortal
life. She knew the signs and omens
of this moment and knowing her
joining with this energy so right,
and perfect. It would propel both
of them into another dimension
of ecstasy only a few ever experience.
All the waiting and hunting had
brought her this Atlantean God
of pure pleasure.
She rushes up to catch his laptop
before it flies onto the ground.
With perfect timing her body projects
out into his field of energy,
latching onto the now crimson
fibers projecting out from his
abdomen. Her energy swirls intertwine
with his. Winding explosions of
purple and pink balls of light,
with glittering golden flashes
move along the surface of both
of their bodies. Her body rushes
even closer and he lifts up surprised
to feel her press firmly up against
him. Time stops with a void for
experience seeming more than a
Slowly as one would savor fine
wine on the pallett, the two bodies
touched. Their auras swished together
in a glowing mix. Hot physical
breath of both lips draw in and
out of each other's lungs. The
life force exchanges in a touch
of impact as her hand grasps for
the computer and his hand lifts
up with the pager. Electrical
tendrils shoot up their arms as
they push high and hard into the
sacred objects of joining. Her
hand grasps hard upon his fire
wand with the computer falling
in slow motion to the floor. His
hand catches up under her dress,
releasing the pager and feeling
the warm moisture of her fruit.
Their lips touch ever so slightly.
The smell of them is heavy with
Crashing particles from the computer
spread out as the beeping of the
pager resigns to silence. The
man and woman take in a huge breath
of light and exhale shutters of
orgasm, their hands being the
connection for transference of
their energies. They both lift
their hands away through the thick
atmosphere of dense vibrations.
In unison they put the other
on the hand moist with their
release and balanced, the transference
into the whole body.
"Your computer, it's ruined.
Your pager it's..."
"Julian, my name is Julian,"
said the man, before she could
end her words.
"Fabrian," she softly whispered.
Julian brings down his sudden
burst of ecstasy with a calming
swallow and sighs. "Her voice
so soft" he thinks.
"Oh, the computer, yes well,
I'd better umm," he looks at
her deep soul. "Fabrian, that
name, it's, it's strange," he
Fabrian's eyes swim with a distant
mystery echoing deep into his
soul. His breathing becomes
heavier as his heart begins
to swell with indescribable
yearning to dive within her
life. He can feel his old self
being ripped apart and redefined
as he explores the avenues of
his new (but old?) friend. There
is something unexplained happening
here and he knows it.
"Julian is a pretty name. J
U L I A N." Fabrian slowly pronounces
with the emphasis of a songbird
voice from a dense forest uncharted
by man. "Julian is gentle, yet
speaks of ancient rulers that
were just and fair," she softly
says as she strokes her hand,
never unlocking her gaze from
His pure and clear eyes too
capture her as well. They change
their colors from a soft green
to an emerald blue color twinkling
with a bit of shock, fear, and
innocence. Yet there is a fire
so deep and pure that it does
not vibrate of lust but of love.
Her womb grows warm and her
heart feels like it is expanding
outward past the confines of
the store. His soul shines so
brightly out that she twitches
from the extraordinary amount
of energy pouring into her own.
She knows Julian, and well,
from lifetimes upon lifetimes
to the very one when the Gods
split apart. He is her other
"Julian ask me out." She says
it so quietly it seems inaudible.
As if in a deep hypnotic trance
Julian responds, "Fabrian, will
you go out with me?"
They leave the computer and
the now beeping pager behind.
Those who witness the experience
in the store stare with blank
understanding. Only the lingering
energy patterns seem to cloak
the sacred moment of what happened.
Everyone seems to feel it but
only on an unconscious level
for confusion has set in as
to why the computer was left.
Why would someone leave an expensive
computer and ignore their pager?
People's values bring them to
question what the worth of possessions
are when in love. So profound
a thought shortly computes then
passes by as a breath, when
the clerk comes to pick up the
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