Here it is, yet another free link to a new piece by me on the high-class, smarty-pants, pay-as-you-go erotica site Filthy Gorgeous Things. This issue revolves around euphoria, and my piece, "The Gift of Euphoria," describes those times when you give others that ecstatic moment. It begins thusly:
There is that moment. The body relaxes into a limp capitulation even as it suspends taut with anticipation. The eyes may close or they may widen in surprise, though the pupils go invariably round as pushpins. The mouth makes a little “o,” the circular call of cherubim, of succubae, of banshees. The skin flushes sanguine and spotty. The breath moves yogic. Time hangs apparitional and euphoria surrounds like a sweet pink cloud, a pristine cell of bubble wrap, a serendipitous shivery sliver.
It’s not your euphoria. Not exactly. It not yours because yours is not the limp-taut rag of erotic compliance, yours are not the eyes fluttering delicate as moths, yours is not the lower-case vowel pout, your skin is unchanged, your breath is unremarkable. Yet with your hands, your mouth, your turgid parts, your fecund imagination, your wily ministrations, you have created this moment for another. You have given free wild reins to your perversity and you have made marvels.
On the turf of your bed, you stride as a colossus.
Enticed? Of course you are. Go here to read the rest and expect a picture of, or possibly worth, a pearl necklace. It's less safe for most workplaces and certainly unfit for all but the most metaphoric children.
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