Sartorius Posted:

Hmm… I think the essential element is that it sparks curiosity. If you see someone and want to see more, or want to know what someone is like in a different setting, then there’s potential for sexy.

This is perhaps most clear when you think of anti-sexy. A stripper is, on the whole, not that sexy. It’s already all out there, nothing’s left to find out about.

I agree. Well said.

Imagine a girl. A very beautiful girl. You love her, and she loves you. Nothing strange with that, right? You are in a room, and the girl walks in through the door. She is wearing strange clothes. Leather, vinyl, satin. Gloves, a corset, knee-high socks and a lot more. Like armour. There are lots of lacings, zippers, bumons and straps on her clothes, and you take each and every one of them off her, one at the time. You are not allowed to touch her more than what’s absolutely necessary. This means no caresses, no kisses, no pulling your fingers through her long, black hair. Nothing. Garment after garment drop to the floor, and you see how much she enjoys being free from these repressing clothes. Now all of her clothes are gone, and she embraces you. Her hands wandering down your back, fingers moving like she’s typing on a keyboard. No, not a keyboard, a string instrument, and it creates music in your head that you have never heard before. Wonderful. Now it’s time for another rule. You kiss her cheek, and she kisses yours. You move your lips a tiny bit closer to her mouth after every kiss, and she does the same. Finally, your lips meet. Your mouth against hers, the taste fills you, intoxicates you. You lie down on the silk sheets and look at each other, completely silent. She is so beautiful. How can someone that beautiful, that pure, that wonderful love someone like you? The only thing you know is that she loves you, no matter what. She loves you, no matter how lonely, ugly, sad or human you are. Now she is embracing you. Her hands wandering down your back, to your thighs. Her hands are on your thighs, and now they keep wandering… She is exploring you. You shiver with pleasure. Oh, you love her. You cup your hand around her breast. She is lovely, wondrous, angelic. You kiss again. Lips meet lips, tongue meets tongue. Joy. You lie next to each other, silent and filled with pbumion. She smirks, and you see that in her hand is a knife. It must have lied hidden by the folds of the sheets. It is made of obsidian, shiny, black. It is covered with strange carvings, old but beautiful. The knife has an ancient, dark power, and you are about to take part of it. It looks like the kind of knife that is used in forbidden, religious ceremonies. You beloved bends her neck, still smiling. What does she mean? …No. No, it cannot be. Does she want you to…?

“Can I?” you ask, anxious. She nods. Yes, you can. And you do it. You take the knife and cut a small incision in her neck. The blood is a red jewel. You press your lips against the wound, drinking, sucking, kissing her wound. It is wonderful. The salty, yet sweet taste of blood fills your mouth. You let go of her, at last, and she turns her head towards you, her breath tickling in your ear. She whispers only one word. “Sayuri”. Her name.

…Then, you wake up.

If you find this sexy, you probably are me.