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#SexyTime Friday is back by popular demand. This excerpt conveys how well I understand a woman’s desire to expose her vulnerabilities. But we already knew that I am a renowned expert on women. Please spread the word about by any means possible. Not just email, text, Facebook, and Twitter but also by word of mouth. It’s so natural to bring up my satirical Indian romance writing at a bar, a club, and especially at a high-class black-tie cocktail party. Enjoy. And as always, use coconut oil in moderation. Follow Dr Pablo Pistola on Twitter (@drpablopistola). Also check out my medical satire offerings on (link to my pieces on my “About Dr. Pablo Pistola” profile on the top of this page).

51 Shades of Brown, (BONUS) Excerpt #18 [Chapter 78]

Nityapriyaindumukhiaparnashubadha had grown weary of the lack of viable marriage proposals offered via her online matrimonial profile. Most of the inquisitive suitors had requested more images than her solitary, modest head-shot photograph, with her sari draped over her head and covering almost her entire face. Nityapriyaindumukhiaparnashubadha’s bland biodata on her profile lacked flair; meanwhile, her womb was fertile and ripe for seeds to be planted. Her raging carnal hormones allowed her to muster the courage to respond to an anonymous online advertisement for budoir photography to spruce up her image. She had recently heard of this phenomenon of posing for provocative photographs of one’s body in a tasteful manner. If submitting to the instructions of a photographer could ultimately allow for the fertilization of her rumbling eggs, then forces of nature commanded her to do so.

But she only intended to procure seductive photos to spruce up her internet profile; she never expected to tap into a reservoir of eroticism which she never knew existed within her body and mind.

Nityapriyaindumukhiaparnashubadha grew more anxious as she walked up the dark stairwell in an abandoned warehouse located in the city of Chandigarh’s seedy underbelly. She paused and once again examined the crumpled scrap paper on which she had scribbled the nameless photographer’s address that was listed online. She cross-checked her current location with her mobile phone’s GPS application. Sure enough, her body was right where it needed to be.

warehousewarehouse hall

She proceeded up the stairs and stopped on the 3rd level in front of the door haphazardly marked with an oil-smudged Post-It note with the handwritten words “First-Class Budoir Photography.” Her prudent mind was telling her to run home to her flat, but her body was telling her to knock. So she did. She clenched her trembling fist and pounded on the door thrice.

What seemed like an eternity passed.

She could hear the distant sounds of a siren echoing through this deserted district, and this only served to heighten her sense of vulnerability.

How could she have been so foolish?

Why didn’t she listen to her mother and simply accept an arranged marriage with the first suitor on that website?

Had she naively put herself in harm’s way?

Why had the photographer insisted on meeting at midnight in this isolated area?

Should she run back to the street and hail the nearest autorickshaw back to her neighborhood?!!

Then, suddenly, the door creaked open.

Before her stood the nude Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram, holding his prototype high-resolution digital camera.

How could she have been so fortunate?! The mysterious Brown Knight, hero of the subcontinent of India, was offering his services to her.

He motioned for her to enter, and without hesitation she followed him into his dimly-lit, make-shift studio.

Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram pointed towards the centrally-featured fainting couch, indicating that he wanted her to lay on the furniture. She proceeded to follow his every command as he positioned her limp body in provocative poses.

fainting couch

Before stepping back, the Brown Knight whispered that the reason for his nudity was that it allowed him to achieve complete sensuality with his artistic work in a natural state.

Of course. That made perfect sense.

Then, Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram went to work.




He commanded her without uttering a word, continuously repositioning her body.

She felt so free.

Nityapriyaindumukhiaparnashubadha never imagined doing such a thing, yet feeling so comfortable with it.




The rapid camera clicks seemed to morph into one continuous sound, thereby augmenting her state of hypnosis.

Then, suddenly, the flashes and clicking stopped.


Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram stood before her. He clearly wanted to her to step even further outside of her personal boundaries. He beckoned her to lie supine on the sofa. As she lay frozen on the fainting couch, he meticulously began to unfold an opening in the sari over her abdomen. He dissected through layers of clothing with surgical precision. Layer after layer after layer after yet another layer. Finally, he arrived at her perspiring tender skin. He used his mighty fingers to pry apart the opening to the expose her navel through a tunnel in her garment measuring 3mm by 3mm. She felt virtually naked.

Yet she still felt so comfortable.

The Brown Knight briskly walked off the set into the darkness of the warehouse. Moments later, he suddenly emerged back into sight as he marched back towards her carrying a steel vessel in his hand.

As she lay in front of him completely covered from head-to-toe with the exception of the penetration through her garments showing off her navel, he sensually tilted the vessel over her, and dribbled warm coconut oil, one drop at a time, onto her exposed navel.




69 drops in total.

The warmth from the lubricant relaxed every muscle fiber in her body. Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram then took his powerful dominant pointer finger, firmly penetrated her belly button with it, and then spread the coconut oil outward over her skin in concentric circles.

The Brown Knight then whispered directly into her ear “Now, Nityapriyaindumukhiaparnashubadha , give yourself to my camera…and to me.”


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About the Author

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Dr Pablo Pistola had become increasingly dissatisfied with satisfaction-based forces in medicine. He felt like a doctor without a purpose. He subsequently embarked on a 7 year twerking quest in the Himalayan foothills to find his true calling. During this journey, he realized that he has a secret talent: his immense knowledge about women. He understands them. Legend has it that he can size up a woman’s soul in a mere instant. He didn’t ask for these powers. But with great powers come great responsibilities. So Dr Pablo Pistola (double-board certified in Love Medicine & Romance Medicine, with fellowship training in Seduction Medicine) has been dabbling in satirical erotic writing. And if satirical erotic writing can offer a viable exit strategy from medicine, then the world will be a better place. His responsibility is to bring the stories of lust to you. He also is an avid life-long Miami Heat fan. Dr Pistola’s medical satire contributions: Twitter: @drpablopistola

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