Oriental Erotic Philosophy

When you sat in your dark chair
Ripe with fat fruits of yellow and red silk
Alive with blue lithe animals.
 
Pressing your scented rose-ended
Peach-coloured feet against my face,
I was humiliated, as you desired.

Golden Lotus took the sweet-smelling flower and put it in her hair. Content, she walked towards the inner scoutyard, leaving Hsi-men Ch'ing alone with Vase Lady.
The summer sunlight made a mockery of her silk skirt, and of the silk trousers she wore beneath, revealing her white flesh to Hsi-men. His passion roused, he lifted her skirt, pulled down her silken trousers, bringing hardness and softness together.
Crossing the mountains with Fire was the game they played..... They did not hear Golden Lotus return, but she heard them. She heard his words as he praised her soft white behind, and she heard his belly slapping it, and she heard the cries they made at the last.

When Hsi-men returned from washing. Golden Lotus was naked on the cushions. In the heat she fanned her white limbs with a white fan, but her shoes were crimson.
Naked himself, Hsi-men wriggled his toes in another crimson shoe. Then, setting to work more seriously, he made his little plaything glisten under his fingers, the crimson opening slippery with nectar on his tongue.
The need too urgent, they played the oldest, fiercest game: The arrow through the Arch. Soon they were lost in the sounds and smells and tastes of battle. At the moment of his victory, which was hers also, Golden Lotus cried out from under him: 'Darling, Darling!' It was her battle cry

Now his mind was heated wine and the chase,and another game occurred to him. It was wicked than before and suited to the name of his accomplice.
Hsi-men told the maid Plum Blossom to watch: 'we shall call the game Hitting a Silver Swan With a Golden Ball'. He took a small plum and asked Golden Lotus to open her mouth. 'No, not that mouth! She understood and laughed, and with her fingers opened the petals of the flower.
Three times he tried, throwing gently and failing. Only when Golden Lotus became excited by the sport-and even a little snail came out to see the game- did a plum catch in the moist folds. No sooner there than removed and replaced with another plum: larger, more intense in colour-and still on the stalk.
Golden Lotus closed her eyes in delight.

Moonbeam passed fruit, sweet with honey, from her mouth to his. She took another fruit with dainty fingers and began caressing it with her tongue.
Taking it out of her mouth from time to time she marvelled at its deep purple colour and firmness, before slipping it back between her lips. Its juice too was sweet to her taste. Then it was time to pass that fruit to another mouth.
Hsi-men had more wine while she washed. It was still snowing outside.
In bed he was hot against her cold washed body, firm against her softness. Soon both were warm. It was the first night watch before they were finished.

Late into the summer night, Hsi-men Ch'ing and his ladies enjoyed themselves in the scented seclusion of the flower arbour. When at last it was time to go to bed, the master of the house was flushed with wine and achig to enjoy Golden Lotus. His principal wife, Moon Lady, went discreetly to her room while the master and the new arrival eagerly undressed. Incense was burned and the bed curtains pulled back. Golden Lotus played the flute exquisitely, but that was not the instrument she placed between her lips. For a long time she played softly, the pleasure of Hsi-Men Ch'ing becoming unendurable. At last, deft fingering tormented a cascade of music from the pipe, While Hsi-men Ch'ing dissolved in bliss

Purple Fire Lady heated some wine, passing it from her mouth to his, tickling his tongue with hers. Hsi-Men Ch'ing, thirsty for another wine, knelt and pressed his tongue deep into the purple cup set in alabaster. A magic cup! The more he drank, the more it filled. The tongue he found lacked eloquence in words, but not in sighs. The maid had left a lamp on the table. In the game called claws of the Dragon, Hsi-Men could look down and see red enter white hard enter soft. Again and again, in the game whose end is dreaded and yet longed for, the pattern was repeated: until Purple Fire Lady, noisy from both mouths, became quiet and turned her autumn glancing eyes to him.