Meihan Booey: Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 1

Eroticism is on the march; or maybe it’s more apt to say, it’s on the slink.

Whatever the proper term, perhaps nowhere is that advance more evident than in Asia, which has by far the largest population of any continent. Asia practices eroticism in fascinating ways and, recently, Asian writers and writers based in Asia have been chronicling some of this eroticism.

In the second half of 2006, Monsoon Books (Singapore) published Best of Singapore Erotica , the first anthology of erotic fiction (along with a handful of erotic poems) ever released in Singapore. That volume proved to be a surprising success: not only did it dominate Monsoon’s own bestseller list for many months, but just four months after the collection first hit the bookstores, we were going into our second edition.

Strongly encouraged by the success of this venture, Monsoon decided a few years later to come out with a second collection of erotic short fiction.

This time, however, the company decided to cast its nets wider and brought out Best of Southeast Asian Erotica , in which four other countries were included. (The new territory included Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines.) Although it only appeared in late 2010, this book, too, seems to be a success, both critically and commercially. Now we are taking our erotic sampling out into a new frontier: the world of ebooks.

The stories included in these first two e-collections represent a mix-and-match of the best works from the two earlier print volumes. We have dropped the flash fictions and poems from our Best of Singapore Erotica collection and then merged them in these first two volumes of ebooks with pieces from the Best of Southeast Asian collection.

As the first collection was composed entirely of Singapore stories, there is still a heavy presence of Singapore fiction in both of these first volumes.

Subsequent volumes feature first-rate erotic fiction (and some non-fiction) from throughout Asia.

But what we offer here is exemplary of the principles we employed throughout in selecting stories for the first two print collections: good stories, well-written, though with a definite erotic flavour. This is not pornography; it is a sub-genre of full-bodied literature which looks at and celebrates the sensual and the sexual in the human experience. These stories were not chosen simply because they titillate (though many of them do that as well), but because they delight, inform and sometimes even enlighten and ennoble.

We enjoyed putting both collections together (as you might well imagine). We think you will enjoy reading these stories and seeing why Asia is fast becoming the world centre of eroticism in all its richness and variety.

I lost my virginity to a man named Pierre two weeks after meeting him.

Well, of course, Pierre isn’t his real name. How many real Frenchmen do you know named Pierre? Enid Blyton names every other Frenchman

“Pierre” in her kiddie novels, but in real life, most Frenchmen have names like Philippe or Jean or something entirely unpronounceable. It’s never as simple as Pierre.

Anyway, Pierre isn’t French, he’s Belgian. He is whiter than white, has perfect skin (perfect enough, that is, to be remarkable for his age), brown eyes, sandy-grey hair, and a huge cock that swells up and sticks out perpendicularly from his very thin body like a rose-red battering ram.

I was saying that I lost my virginity to him two weeks after meeting him. I suppose you’re wanting an explanation of this somewhat extraordinary statement. It’s just not worth the bother. Therefore, feel free to fit us both into any convenient category of human behaviour. Rest assured, I will not complain. Complaining, I find, is the refuge of the weak and unimaginative who have neither the courage to put up with shit nor the wherewithal to get out of it.

However I will answer the usual round of questions.

1. Yes, he is married.

2. Yes, I knew it.

3. Yes, he’s a horny old man. Exactly 23 years older than me, if you like precise figures.

4. Yes, I am Asian-Chinese, if you also enjoy precise descriptions. And I therefore qualify, as my little brother pointed out with a shudder, as an SPG.

5. No, he didn’t dump me after one night of sex… BUT!

6. Yes, the relationship is pretty much all about sex.

By the way, yes, you are free to join my brother and think of me as an SPG. I like the phrase “Sarong Party Girl” really. Wear a sarong, go out and party. Of course, the SPG’s reason for wearing a sarong-or whatever conveniently unwrappable dress is in fashion these days-and going to a party is usually to pick up a White Man. Whether or not this was my specific intention while partying in a sarong, I’m not bothering to clarify. You are perfectly free to draw your own conclusions about me, as I am of you.

I became Pierre’s mistress without intending to. What I was intending was to do was sleep with him so as to get rid of my tiresome virginity, which had been left stubbornly on my hands for 26 years.

I was telling you Pierre had a cock like a battering ram. A virgin pussy becomes deeply startled when faced with the prospect of penetration by a battering ram. A pulse of sheer panic raced up and down me when the whole bulk of it emerged from between the silver teeth of his zipper.

“That’s not going to fit! It’s HUGE!” I bellowed, flinging all thought of seductive atmosphere, which I’d been carefully building up for three hours, to the winds. Pierre shook his head, disparagingly. “Average,” he murmured, “average.”

The average size of the male penis is six to seven inches erect.

Proportionately, Pierre was not wrong, though, for he is six foot tall. His problem is that he is underweight for his height, so that a penis which would have looked relatively proportionate for a six-foot, 180-pound man, looks preposterously gargantuan for a six-foot man who only weighs 135 pounds.

Now, I am very short, even for an Asian girl. I didn’t even know if I had enough piping for this plunger.

“Think of it as a baby’s head,” he persuaded me silkily, pushing me quite firmly down under him. “That’s what it’s built for, right?”

“I suppose so,” I replied dubiously, and gritted my teeth.

Pierre had been told by a friend that I was a virgin. He did not believe I was a virgin. I did not act like a virgin and I hadn’t bothered to tell him.

Because if I had, he wouldn’t have slept with me; it’s that simple.

“I shouldn’t have been your first experience,” he exclaimed in dismay when he finally asked and I told him.

This surprised me, because I had judged him at first glance very much the way you might have been doing up to this point. I had seen a nattily dressed, charmingly seductive older European man, freely discussing his experiences with many girlfriends. I had therefore fit him neatly into that handy category, the Horny White Man.

Oh, let me elaborate just a little. Horny White Man: Good in bed, generous with women, dislikes long-term relationships, probably divorced/ married, adulterous. The HWM is the antithesis of the SPG, which is why they are drawn to each other. HWMs are for the most part weak in character, strong in personality, easily led but difficult to pin down. It takes our strong-willed SPGs five minutes to lead a HWM to the altar, and an ensuing five years (or the equivalent in alcohol) to force them to sign the registry.