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#SexyTime Friday is back again! Please “FOLLOW” at the very very bottom of this page, and tell all your friends and family about! And as always, use coconut oil in moderation!


Bad girl

Indian girls are trained from a young age to avoid the perils of becoming a “bad girl”

51 Shades of Brown, (BONUS) Excerpt #24 [Chapter 95]

Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi never wanted this buzz to end. She was unapologetically having the time of her life with her girlfriends, sipping champagne, and sharing stories in this posh penthouse hotel suite rented by her petroleum tycoon father.

Yes, tomorrow she would be married off to a local mango nectar mogul. But tonight? She planned on living it up at her bachelorette party.

She couldn’t think of tomorrow. “Carpe diem,” she whispered to herself

With each sip of bubbly, she could feel each of her million inhibitions melting away, one at a time. She had grown weary of maintaining that “good little Indian girl” reputation by dutifully completing Bharatanatyam dance training, focusing on her studies, learning how to make her rotis round, and never ever even daring to look at a boy.

Amidst the feminine debauchery in this luxury loft, she began to experience panic about how she would face her groom the very next day.

Would she wilt under the pressure to perform?

 If he looked at her, would she be able to muster the courage to look right back at him?

Would her body be able to handle the intimate touch of a man?

Her anxiety was suddenly interrupted by a series of firm knocks on the hotel room door.

Who could that be? Room service at this hour? They hadn’t ordered any samosas from the kitchen!

The shocked women cast worried glances at each other out of fear that each of their respective fathers stood beyond that door, poised to end this glorious night intended to secretly achieve sexual emancipation for all members of this entourage.

Were their naughty plans about to be foiled? Would they be forced to shamefully bare a scarlet letter in the Mumbai community for their indiscretions?!

More knocks. This time more loud, more purposeful.

One of Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi’s former classmates momentarily fainted from the paranoia, since she had sipped her first champagne on this epic night. But there was no running from this. No escape. Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi instructed her best friend to “allow the guest to enter and glide in.”

As the door was unlocked and slowly swung open, Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram came into view, much to the relief and delight of the horde of desperate women. Upon seeing the Brown Knight, Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi’s former classmate who had been revived from passing out, now fainted yet again.

The Brown Knight, clad in a trenchcoat, walked towards the ovulating females. His presence startled her friends, but Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi knew that he and her father were close business associates with multiple mutual ventures throughout the great nation of India. She assumed that he owed her father a favor. Or maybe, just maybe, she had caught his attention during investment meetings when he saw her in family portraits displayed at her father’s office?!

Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram continued to methodically walk past the group towards the massive windows which provided an awe-inspiring panoramic nocturnal view of the downtown Mumbai skyline. As he faced away from the staring group of ladies, he finally paused when he had reached the glass barrier. He just stood there for what seemed like an eternity as the women’s silence was only interrupted by the Indian disco pop music that had been playing on the radio as the soundtrack for this evening.

Then….he began to take off the trenchcoat in slow-motion. It became clear that he was topless, but, in one instant, all the witnesses in unison wondered if they would get the answers to the questions that had tormented them for years: What does the Brown Knight use as an undergarment? Boxers? Briefs? Boxer-briefs? Or does he wear nothing at all, daring to go commando?!

As the trenchcoat slipped downward off his body and fell to the floor behind his feet, Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi gasped at the Brown Knight’s custom-made speedo, with an Indian leopard pattern in the front and the Miami Heat basketball emblem on the back.

Indian leopardHeat speedo

Tempting body hair tufts protruded from his small underwear and peeked out along his inner thighs. His whole immaculate body glistened from coconut oil that had been applied to every inch of his skin. Beads of coconut oil raced down from under his speedo, down his inner thighs, along his powerful hamstring muscles, and around his strong calves.

Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi focused on the speedo as the Brown Knight rotated thrice for all to see the glory of his special close-fitting bikini. Meanwhile, the moaning women gazed at the tempting contours and bulges. After his spinning showcase had completed, he once again faced away from the bachelorette party.

Slowly, Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram raised his arms upward and placed his palms firmly against the window panels.

Then, he began to twerk.

Ah, the serene majesty of witnessing the imposing Mumbai skyscrapers in the background and the Brown Knight’s shaking booty in the foreground!

His masterful textbook pelvic thrusts highlighted his chiseled musculature and unparalleled core strength. Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi felt as though she could see every fiber of his gluteus contracting over and over and over…She became hypnotized by the bouncing “Miami Heat” logo, experiencing epiphanies that the Miami Heat is one of the greatest basketball clubs in history and that nobody should ever doubt the godfather of that franchise: the incomparable Pat Riley.


She wiped drool from the corners of her mouth, as she watched the Brown Knight continue to twerk.

Oh, what stamina the Brown Knight possesses!

The twerking went on and on and on….And she wanted him to never stop. Never.

Slowly, Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi reached into her purse and fumbled for her mobile phone, not daring to take her eyes off the swiveling rear end in front of her face. She clumsily typed a text message to her fiancé: “Hai. How R U? U R out. Wedding off. Bye now.”

Vasundharadhaanyalakshmiharinakshi paused for a brief moment, looked dreamily at Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram’s gyrating firm butt, and then, without hesistation, she pushed the “SEND” button to deliver her message which opened the door to endless possibilities…

Did you know that Dr Pablo Pistola (the author) has been trained by revered twerking masters? You can read about Dr Pistola (@drpablopistola on Twitter) here:


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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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