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#SexyTime Friday is back again. And I appreciate all of you telling your mothers about my writing; their fan mail has sustained me this week. Tell your mother that I love her. Spread the word about to everyone you know, and even people you don’t know. Roll down your window when you are stopped at an intersection and tell the person in the adjacent vehicle. The website is so easy to remember. Don’t forget to “follow” (on right sidebar on laptops only, and at the very very bottom of this page on laptops & smartphones). And as always, please use coconut oil in moderation.

Dr Pablo Pistola


Has my writing made you consider what brown can do for you?

51 Shades of Brown, (BONUS) Excerpt #21 [Chapter 88]

Suryakantamdurgeshwarijyotikanishka grew more nervous as she approached him and walked through the crowd of spectators gathered around the central stage in the middle of the posh New Delhi restaurant. Hipsters from far and wide had descended upon this establishment to witness the event. There were countless ironic beards, black turtleneck sweaters, berets, thick horn-rimmed eyeglassess and skinny jeans scattered throughout the audience. The trendy customers sat mesmerized as they watched through their monocles and smoked pipes and long-stem cigarettes. The entire clientele sipped specialty cappuccino coffee beverages she had prepared, after all the attendees had cleansed their palates with shot glasses full of mineral water imported from the natural springs in the Himalayan foothills. The hipsters were so enchanted that they weren’t even whining about how various things had become too mainstream these days.

The jarring silence.

All eyes were on Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram as he sat cross-legged on the central stage, his lips wrapped around his flute that had been hand-crafted by a renowned master musician. Suryakantamdurgeshwarijyotikanishka timed her footsteps to the soothing melody bellowing from his instrument while she walked through the hipsters towards him. She became self-conscious about her own healthy, round rump while she was walking in front of people, but the concern about her own rotund curvy caboose melted away when she reminded herself that all gazes were fixed on the Brown Knight.

As she approached the platform, she stared with a dropped jaw at the king cobra that emerged from the basket in front of him. She already knew that this was the largest cobra ever found in the jungles of India, and that the Brown Knight had risen to the challenge of taming this deadly creature. But seeing the size of it made her mind race. Overwhelming fear consumed her on behalf of the subcontinent’s hero.

Yes, he could effortlessly charm any woman in the world. But charming a snake?

Had Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram put himself in harm’s way?

Would the object of her desire perish before her very own eyes?


The king cobra stood erect in front of the Brown Knight. She stood in awe at its enormous girth. She remained dazzled by its reptilian stare and its tongue flicking in, and out, in, and out, in and out, over and over and over. She felt as though she were witnessing a stalemate between two worthy enemy combatants.

Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram had tamed many wild animals in the past, always cultivating their fierce loyalty to him as their unquestionable master. His personal eclectic animal collection was the envy of the zookeeper community.

She daydreamed about euphoria of calling him her master. To dutifully follow his every command. To do his bidding.

Just as this snake was doing now for him.

She carefully approached Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram on the stage and slowly extended her arms with the tray towards the basket where the king cobra stood. The Brown Knight has requested that she serve his slithering slave a plate of freshly-prepared pav bhaji. She lifted the plate of food from the tray and began to place it directly in between the Brown Knight and the cobra, as she had been instructed to do so by him beforehand.


But in an instant, everything went wrong.

The king cobra, which stood still in a trance, menacingly lunged towards her with its mouth wide open, prepared for a deadly strike. The gathering of hipsters gasped in unison.

Within a millisecond, Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram employed his lightning-quick reflexes to drop his flute, dive forward, and intercept the reptile with his powerful bare hand just a centimeter before its fangs penetrated her bosom as she recoiled in fear. The venom squirted from its fangs harmlessly onto her cleavage, dripping gently into the deep crevice.

The Brown Knight had saved her.

The near-lethal encounter left Suryakantamdurgeshwarijyotikanishka stunned, but in this moment, she realized her own egregious, nearly-grievous error. She had forgotten to bring the buttered bread which traditionally accompanies a serving of pav bhaji, as Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram whispered “Mera king cobra kuch nahin… Mera king cobra kuch nahin…Mera king cobra kuch nahin chahthaheh ahgur tumare pas bun nahi hen, priya.” [“My king cobra don’t…My king cobra don’t…My king cobra don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.”]…

minajSir Mix A Lot

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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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