Sunday, October 21, 2007



TRUE EROTIC TALES are non-fictional erotic essays written by authors of today.


Jeremy Edwards
Jeremy's MySpace

Like most writers, I respond very strongly to words. They can be so evocative and powerful--and, of course, erotic. So one of the things that really turns me on is to hear a woman talk about things that are sexy to me. When the context is directly sexual--e.g., hearing my wife tell me, in bed and with recourse to the frankest language, what she wants or how good something feels--then the erotic effect is no-brainer.

But words can also turn me on when I'm out in the world, hearing the incidental speech of friends, acquaintances, and strangers. I'm so easy that just the word "sex" often turns me on. (I suppose this would make me the ideal consumer, were it not for the fact that I hardly ever buy anything.)

Moreover, the speaker's intention doesn't necessarily have to be sexual for erotically-charged words, concepts, or even figures of speech to titillate me. For example, I am a great admirer of the female behind, and if I hear a woman refer to her ass, even in a nonsexual way, my ears (etc.) will likely perk up. Something as mundane as "I need to get off my ass and do it" or "Fresh-squeezed orange juice, my ass!" can make me think, "Mmm . . . her *ass*."Though it's just an expression, the imagery is sometimes too strong for me to resist (or to want to resist).

I also happen to find peeing sexy (yes, there's a hint of that in my fiction now and again). Here too, casual use of the relevant vocabulary can be a turn-on for me. So if a woman describes how funny or exciting something was by saying, metaphorically, "I was wetting my pants," she's guaranteed to have me thinking about the image she's thereby evoked rather than whatever she was really trying to tell me about. (I should emphasize that I do realize actual loss of control like that would, in most circumstances, not be sexy or pleasant; what I'm responding to erotically is the choice of words when the speaker is *not* talking literally.)

I don't think I've ever actually heard a woman exclaim "Fuck me!" as a nonsexual expletive, though I know from the print world that people sometimes do so. If I ever encounter that in real life, I'm sure that a movie will immediately begin rolling in my mind.

Rachel Green
Rachel's website

My cheek is pressed against fur. Mink, rabbit, ermine - it doesn't matter; it's the texture of the fur against my flesh that counts. I don't care that it's not PC. My vegetarian, waste separation, plastic recycling life has nothing to do with my bare-breasted bondage sexuality.

This does.

This is sex. This is hot, sweaty bodies writhing naked on a pile of antique coats thrown carelessly on the bed. I need this. This is my relief, my refuge from the daily mundane.

I said we were writhing. That's not strictly true. She was writhing, I was pretty much staying in one position. The ropes and leather made sure of that.

Maybe it's a hang up from a childhood of forced Catholicism. I can't relax into it unless I have the freedom of bondage. "It's not my fault. I can't help it." It's an illusion of course. I asked for this... begged for this...but in the guilt-expunging bondage I can pretend. "I'm a good girl really."

My arms are bound in a sleeve behind my back, my ankles to the bed posts with my soles flat against the tailboard. She touches me, sending a shiver through my body and a flicker of the wave on the edge of consciousness. The wave will build if she continues, reaching a crescendo that will leave me sobbing and wet and replete and grateful and, probably, sore.

It doesn't matter. I can feel the waves lapping against the shore of my orgasm. Muscles tense. She knows I'm close because my legs become taut as bow strings; toes pressed against the tailboard and my pelvis lifted into the air as her thumbs dig into me. In. In. In. Her palm beats against my mound. My muscles shake with the ninth wave and I sob...please... through the gag.

As the beach is washed away by the tsunami I collapse onto the fur. Soft fur.

It doesn't matter what kind.

Bobby Michaels
Bobby's website

What Turns You On?

First of all, a man who is just who he is, who is comfortable in his own skin, who doesn't "put on airs" or try to impress anyone. A man who exudes the confidence that says, "I know who I am and I
know what I want." A man confident enough to lay in my arms, seeking comfort just as I do in his.

The first physical thing I notice is his eyes. The eyes tell you everything. Cruel, cunning, gentle, kind - it's all there to read. I love the looks that come from those eyes: The almost pleading look when he's about to cum; the shy but proud look when he shows you his most prized possession - his hard cock - for the first time; The commanding, dominating look when he wants sexual relief - now! Most of all, the overpowering look when you see love and desire for you in them.

His deep voice, especially with a soft southern or southwestern accent.

His gentle stroking of my head and hair as I worship his cock with my lips, tongue and mouth. His hands grasping my head, not so gently, as he reaches orgasm. The deep groans of intense pleasure when I do something that particularly pleases him. His teeth, gently (or not so gently) nibbling from the back of my neck and down the back of my arm or biting all over the cheeks of my butt. His mouth, sucking hard on my tits. His tongue burying itself in my hole or mine in his.

Him fucking me, hard, deep and long, grabbing my shoulders for leverage as he uses me. His deep voice saying dirty, sexy, nasty things while he fucks me, while I suck his cock, while I eat his ass.

Him taking a long, hot piss all over me. And letting me do the same to him.

Above all, his scent - at his neck, in his pits, his groin, his balls and his ass. The rich raw scent of a sweaty man. His personal body scent. When I lie in his bed alone, I wrap myself in his sheets and push my face into his pillow to be surrounded by it.

What Turns You Off?

As much as I love a man's scent, too much of a good thing is bad - no going a week without a shower. The worst scent of all, however, is bad breath - the kind that can knock a buzzard off a shit wagon.

Arrogance. Confidence is a turn on but arrogance is a deal breaker.

Flowery, overblown compliments. Just say, "Fuck! You suck dick good!"

Effeminacy in a man, except for small, slender males between eighteen and twenty-five.


I didn't mention his eye color, hair color, body type, hairy or smooth, muscular or not, or the size of his cock. These are meaningless to me. The real "turn on" is the man himself. The real "turn off" is the man himself.

Brenna Lyons
Brenna's website

What turns me on? Eye contact is important; the eyes are the windows to the soul, and as long as your eyes are locked, you know you have his undivided attention. Deep kisses. They can be slow kisses or involved ones, but deep is a must. Skin to skin touching. There's nothing quite like getting really involved, mind and body. If we're both immersed, it's nearly a given that I'm going to have a great time. Being experimental is fun, and I'm all for a little adventure,but neither is as important as that simple connection.

What turns me off? I'm not a fan of pain. That's first and foremost. If I get hurt during sex, it's nearly a given that my arousal is going to end right there. By that, I don't mean any pain, since I get off on the occasional love bite, nips at the earlobe, the pull of restraints and such. What I absolutely do not get off on is real pain. I'm not the kind to enjoy lashing or spanking. Sorry. Had enough of the real thing, in my life, so I don't want to incorporate it into my sex life.

Since I like us to be on the same page and engaged in each other, if my husband is out of sorts, it's going to kill the mood for me. If something's not working, I'd rather just move on to something else and not have him upset about it. To paraphrase Wanda Sykes, "Men get off easily. Sometimes women get halfway in and realize it's just not going to happen for them tonight." Women have to be there mentally/emotionally, as well as physically. That's nothing for a man to get irritated about. Just accept that she's giving you a good time and take it gracefully. A woman does not have to orgasm at every sexual encounter.

Bryn Colvin
Bryn's website

I've been accused of being an ice queen by people who see my surfaces but do not know me well. I am not immediately physically responsive. Bodily arousal doesn't happen for me in a conventional way. Then, I'm not interested in the quick kicks and releases of purely physical interaction. Perhaps if I was, it would work for me. I burn slowly, but very hot and very fierce, given the right circumstances. For those who can turn me on, I am a wild and generous lover.

Arousal begins in the mind for me, and in the ever shifting world of my emotions. I can remain utterly unmoved by physical contact if my head and heart aren't engaged. In fact, the idea of anything sexual without that mental and emotional action turns me off completely. Hot sex is only ever scorching for me if my intellect and feelings have been thoroughly stimulated first. Don't even think about touching me if you don't know how to melt me with words, seduce me with skills, passions or actions that do not pertain directly to my body.

What raises my pulse is contact with other people. By this I do not mean anything slight or superficial. It has to be deep and profoundly meaningful, bringing me in so close I almost know what the other person is thinking. Often it takes me years to forge this kind of relationship, but it's worth waiting for. Intense interactions, brought about through shared creativity, ritual, music, walking, dancing, - there are many possibilities. Make me laugh, or cry, or really think and you're in with a chance of bedding me.

The other thing that fires my imagination (and therefore my desires) is trust. I'm fascinated by power exchange scenarios, but not by traditional Dominant/submissive roles. Having my life entirely in someone else's hands arouses me. Equally, taking control for someone else is a powerful aphrodisiac. It doesn't have to be an overtly sexual situation either. Play fighting turns me on, especially with swords. To do that safely but still have it be exciting takes a lot of trust and mutual knowledge. It also requires the participants to really focus in on each other.

Turn offs for me involve sex with no mental or emotional fireworks. Consequently most porn is a non-starter. I've had some strange propositions in my time - offers to buy my used underwear, to participate in threesomes, to urinate on people - which I hurried away from because it was just about the sex. I'm the same with what I read. If it sounds like 'insert body part A into orifice B' I'm out of there. There are plenty of other unconventional things I've enthusiastically agreed to because they've been driven by passion. I can get off on all kinds of kink and depravity so long as it has soul and take considerable sexual pleasure from emotive but non-physical exchanges. Apathy leaves me cold but I respond in kind to true passion.

Jacqueline Applebee
Jacqueline's website

Arrogance is a huge turn-off for me. When the possession of power makes people treat others disrespectfully, I just shrink away. The stereotype of a wealthy businessman or woman, ordering their minions about as if they were nothing, makes me want to run in the opposite direction. Money may impress me, but it has never, ever turned me on. So with that said, I find that dignity, and a sense of nobility is a big turn on for me. People don't have to be high-born, or well-connected, but if they know how to be gallant, and want to treat me like a goddess, it just does something to me, and I melt into a gooey mess.

The spoken word is something that can turn me on unexpectedly. A close friend recently read "My love is like a red, red rose" by Robbie Burns, whilst we spoke on the phone. We had previously been talking about everyday matters, when he suddenly broke into a Scottish accent, and read that beautiful poem to me. I found my mouth going slack, and all coherent thoughts simply left my mind. I was a goner.

On the physical side, I find eyes incredibly seductive. A shy gaze can turn me on, like flicking a switch. When someone looks at me, as if they haven't eaten for three days, and I'm a big sticky chocolate cake, I want to drag them off and ravage them. Intense desirous looks from someone across the room, makes me want to sink to my knees, and open wide...

Gwen Masters
Gwen's blog

It started out with the guy in high school, the one with the dark hair that was long enough to fall over his dark eyes, the biceps that were too big to be contained by the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the torch-red Vette in the parking lot. He was gorgeous, the perfect bad-boy, almost unattainable.

I didn't care. I wasn't in love with him. I was in love with his car.

My first lustful thoughts all involved horsepower. A man who could handle a big-ass truck was sexier than anything else. I loved the sleek little sports cars, but they were nothing compared to that big farm trucks, the ones with the tall tires, the dirty beds, and the bench seat big enough for two...even if those two bodies were horizontal and generating some horsepower of their own.

When I turned twenty or so and discovered Nashville, those guitar slingers were what got under my skin. I chose carefully -- they had to not only know how to handle the axe, they had to have the attitude to match. There was nothing like taking the show behind the scenes, fucking him until daybreak, then listening to him compose another song -- the physical meeting the spiritual.

Those early experiences taught me that my big turn-ons aren't necessarily bedroom techniques, toys that make me drool, or even those muscles that make me take a second glance. It's all about the attitude. Show me a man with enough confidence to be called cocky, a love of experimentation, an openness about what he likes, a creativity that keeps things interesting, and I'll show you my intense appreciation.

What turns me off? Again, it comes down to everything that matters before we hit the sheets. A lack of responsibility, a boatload of lies, a dismissive attitude -- all of these things will make me
ignore even the most gorgeous man on the planet. If there's nothing of integrity inside him, I certainly don't want him inside me -- in any way.

Once we do get into the bedroom, the turn-ons are endless. If I already want everything that makes up who he is inside, then his body is going to become an addictive playground, and nothing is off-limits. With a man I respected and trusted, I learned to love leather and ropes. I learned the thrill of a single rose petal, the shiver value of a whispered endearment, and on the flip-side, the delight of a harsh order or a good, hard spank against my thigh. I learned not to be turned off by anything, but to embrace everything as a possibility.

That kind of sensual freedom comes from trust, and I suppose that is the biggest turn-on of anything else I've explored in my lifetime: Absolute trust. Trust is the one turn-on that makes all the other turn-ons possible.

Beth Wylde
Beth's website

on flesh...heavy breathing...hands reaching...muscles clenching...backs arched...bodies straining. The scents of sweat and sex filling the air as two consensual adults strive to reach the ultimate goal. Climax!

Nothing gets me hotter than a well written sex scene. Some people prefer the visual stimulation that an adult movie can provide but for me the biggest thing I need to have stimulated is my mind. The use of sensual language to describe a scene of absolute carnal abandon can get me heated up faster than a good round of lengthy foreplay ever could.

Soft and sensual or hot and heavy. Whether it's a girl's first time or a couple's fiftieth, a gentle introduction to intercourse or some seriously kinky BDSM. No matter the situation or the gender. I like it all if it's done right.

The same goes for when I'm writing a love scene. It has to keep the story moving and add something to the overall plot. Sexual tension is good too. Sometimes I enjoy it more if I've had to wait for it.

As for my turn offs, once again it's the written word. If it's distasteful to me you won't find it in one of my books. I write what I like. Funny nicknames or overly technical language can turn me from hot to cold in seconds flat. I'm not looking to read a medical dictionary or sappy dialogue where the author is terrified to call a cock a cock. I need a writer willing to push the envelope. One that can use believable imagery and prose to pull me into the moment until not only the character is on the verge of coming but I am too.

MJ Williamz
MJ's MySpace

There are so many things about women that turn me on. To me, every inch of the female form is arousing. There is no such thing as a physically unattractive woman. So then, what turns me on about the women I'm intimate with?

Confidence without arrogance. I love confidence. I abhor arrogance. I respect, admire, and am drawn to women who are comfortable in their own skin. A woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it makes the best bed partner. If she knows what pleases her and lets me know, the encounter is better for both of us.

How she tells me doesn't matter.

"Oh, God, MJ, a little to the left, please," whispered huskily will not only get me to move to that perfect spot, she will also find that I will continue with a renewed fervency.

A shifting, however slight, of her body so I'm where she needs me will make my juices flow as hard as hers. The feel of her hand on the back of my head directing me will force me to straddle her leg while I continue, pressing myself into her.

All three at once will likely bring me to an earth-shattering climax with her.

Physical attributes that can ignite my desire are eyes and lips. Eyes truly are the windows to the soul. They show so much about a woman and can captivate me at first glance.

The smoldering look that sears my soul, telling me now's the time and I'd better not wait, is one of my favorite stimulants. I'm even aroused by that cold stare that attempts to convey to me that I don't stand a chance. That look is both arousing and challenging since I've never been one to take no for an answer. The eyelids fluttering, half open is my favorite by far.

Of course, to see those eyelids flutter as I look up from between her legs spurs my lust every time.

This brings us to her lips. A full set of firm lips makes a woman impossible to refuse. A coy smile to tease me will ensure she has my full attention. If she bites her lower lip, she'll bring me to my knees. A nice, firm, confident kiss will melt me.

When these qualities are combined, I'm putty in her hand. A confident woman who looks at me, eyes smoldering, lower lip slightly obscured by her top teeth, can just turn and walk away without a word. She should have no doubt that I will be following close behind.

Donna George Storey
Donna's website

The biggest turn-on for me is passion. When a person is passionate about something, that energy and focus usually translates into an easy confidence and mastery that is extremely attractive. This could be a passion for writing, music or even computer programming. Of course the most exciting thing is if this person's passion is focused on me! I find it--strangely?--erotic to see a skilled editor at work, excavating the true beginning of the story, the true ending, slashing adverbs and teasing out connections lying buried in the first draft. When a lover brings this total dedication to bed-his hands, tongue and cock pleasuring me with knowing skill, his whispered words weaving fantasies that seduce my imagination--nothing in this world is sexier.

While I'm confessing, I might as well mention my secret garden-variety turn-on: fresh fruits and vegetables at peak season. My pulse quickens and my breath comes faster when I stroll through a farmer's market and treat my senses to the plump, blushing apples, the wine-scented, golden-skinned Asian pears, the entrancingly smooth, maroon-and-white marbled skin of a Listada eggplant. I adore sniffing melons to tease out the hints of tropical perfume in their dimpled stem end. Better still is when the first tiny spoonful of its sweet flesh ripe proves I've chosen well.

When it comes to encounters with human beings, I love hands. Nice, solid-looking, thick-fingered male hands. Apparently some guys are concerned about penis size. For me, unless it's too tiny to feel or too huge, which has actually been more of a problem because it makes walking painful for a few days, the penis is so much less important than hands with sensitivity and stamina. Hand action, the way he uses them, will make the difference between lame sex and great sex. I find watching a man typing at a keyboard and clicking a mouse very suggestive! I also like necks and shoulders. Deep, warm eyes and and deep, warm laughter. For women, I get wiggly-kneed over shapely legs and asses, especially in tight-fitting black pants or mini-skirts with boots. I like boots.


People who let other people's opinions control what they do and think. Conforming to peer pressure is for high school.

Most male models and actors who are supposed to define good-looking in our media-saturated culture. I just find their faces incredibly bland to the point of revulsion. I like the process of discovering what makes a person uniquely interesting and sexy for myself. I don't need Vogue to do it for me.

Lovers who treat my body like a machine.

Old guys who lecture ME about Japan or writing once they find out what I do, especially when they aren't writers and they learned all they know about Japan from articles in Newsweek. Really knowing what you're doing is sexy. Pretending you do when you don't is not.

Jean Roberta
Jean's website

I might sound like a lecturing feminist from the 1970s, but this is what turns me on. I like mutual interest and respect between characters in the erotica I read, and I try to include it in the stories I write - unless I am deliberately describing a Bad Fuck in order to contrast it with something better.

Mutual respect is actually easy to include in Dominant/submissive scenarios. Consider the real implications of an Interrogation Scene in which the Tough Cop or Father/Mother Confessor demands the whole truth from the suspect or prisoner. The real purpose of that scene is to find out what the bottom or sub really wants so as to torment hir (him/her) with it! Threats like "If you don't beg for it, I won't touch you" are an extreme way of asking for consent. If there's no consent, the logical answer would be "See ya later, alligator." (But of course, in truly erotic writing there's always consent and encouragement – from the author to the reader and vice versa as well as between characters.)

From the time I began reading Pat Califia's queer, whimsically-funny BDSM erotica in the early 1980s, I fell in love with the paradox of polarized roles and over-the-top drama on the surface, and deep mutual curiosity and an equal desire to please underneath. A message of mutual interest, desire and even love seems especially convincing to me if both/all the characters were born into the same gender and brought up in similar neighborhoods. In this case, unequal roles seem freely chosen.

I am turned off by sexual cliches, stereotyped characters and a lack of convincing consent, and all these things seem related. I can enjoy M/f erotica, but a writer who describes an Alpha Male sweeping a pouty woman off her feet or literally tying her down needs to work harder than a writer of queer/pansexual fantasies to convince me that this is all good fun, and based on honest lust from all sides.

Not only cartoon Men from Mars and Women from Venus but racist stereotypes squick me to the point where I can't go on reading. Lately, I've run across a parade of fictional Asian dragon ladies who sexually torment helpless straight white men so that they (the bitch-goddesses) can go on
running the world. Gahh.

For better or worse, I can't read any sex fantasy simply as an "escape" from the frustrations of real life. Writing about sex, like writing about anything else, always has a viewpoint, a message and an agenda. I can't get off on the message that straight white men are an endangered species who are entitled to put everyone else back in their traditional place, or that certain people are just naturally more worthy of good sex (and every other desirable thing) than others. I'd rather escape from the monotony of stereotypes into the juicier complexity of something that more closely resembles the real world.

Day's MySpace

One thing that I know about myself is that, "I like what I like and I want what I want when it comes to the enjoyment of sex." Nothing turns me off more than a man assuming that he knows what I want and what feels good to me, or what women in general want based on past sexual experiences. As we all have probably had at least once in our life time, I knowingly engaged in a one night stand with a guy that I will call Mike. Mike was sexy as hell in physical features, but arrogant beyond what would be considered normal as far as arrogance goes.

All week Mike called giving me little titillations of what was to come. I was excited, as well as horny and was ready for what I knew was going to be the best sex I had encountered for some time since I was just three months out of a very loving and sexually fulfilled relationship. Mike showed up, the atmosphere was sexy, and I was ready to seduce and be seduced. Mike looked and smelled like the Adonis that I had always thought him to be. It was first hard for me to even see sexing this guy since he was eight years my junior not to mention he was my best friend's little brother, however tonight being my junior or the fact that he was my friend's brother had no bearing on what I wanted and that was hot, sweaty, orgasmic, mind blowing sex. Everything was perfect! Then it happened. After undressing me, Mike went for it. Pushed me back on the bed, put one arm under my leg, raised it and entered me and went to pumping. "What the fuck," I thought. Being the person that I am did not stop him. When he came I got up, put on my clothes and asked him to leave. He seemed surprised and asked what the problem was. I asked him what the fuck was that and he stated, "I just figured you were the kind of woman that just wanted to get right into the sex." It took me days before I could actually calm down enough to tell this young brother that he had a lot to learn about women and that he should not base his successful experiences to come on the women he had been with in the past. After a month we tried it again after talking extensively and needless to say he got it just right. DAMN RIGHT!

What turns me on the most is a man or a woman who is not selfish and who is open to listen and try different things for the heightened sexual pleasures of both parties. One who takes the time to find out what makes ME feel good. If a person does that, he or she can have my goodies all day long.

Winnie Jerome
Winnie's blog

I have a weakness for bondage. I think I developed a taste for it after reading the WWII era Wonder Woman comics. I know, it sounds a little unusual, but I used to spend a lot of time reading them, and one of the things that fascinated me was the Golden Age era.

Things were a lot different then. For one thing, the comics code didn't exist. So there was no one to tell the artist that he couldn't depict his lead heroine getting tied up. Repeatedly. And in a lot of different positions: hands behind the back, hog-tied, hobbled. Sometimes she was gagged, sometimes she was chained. I found it incredibly sexy. Needless to say, it rapidly became my favorite comic.

Another thing I love is dirty talk. Unfortunately, dirty talk is one of those things that can sound goofy if you use the wrong phrasing. But if it's done well, it sets my imagination soaring, and it just makes sex that much better.

I also have a voyeuristic streak, which is also why I love watching two men having sex. Really really love it. If I see two men getting hot and heavy, I have a reaction very similar to a Tex Avery cartoon -- eyeballs bugging out, heart thumping out of my chest, tongue dragging on the ground... Add in the other turn-ons I've listed to the mix and I'm a very happy camper.

Now that I've talked about my turn-ons, I should talk about my turn-offs. One thing that never appealed to me was playing with candle wax. Which is funny, because getting my eyebrows waxed doesn't freak me out. I guess my dislike has to do with the fact that I really hate burns, and there's no way for me to tell if the wax coming from the candle is at a tolerable temperature or a "Oh my God, that hurts!" temperature. And frankly, that sort of pain is not the type I like to receive. Spanking and pinching are great, but not candles. Having sex outdoors is another turn-off. I'm an urban girl -- if you mention camping, my first reaction will be to wrinkle my nose and go inside to enjoy my creature comforts. Between the dirt or grass getting into places it shouldn't, shivering because it's cold outside, and the bugs; being one with nature gets a big thumbs down from me.

Jolie du Pre
Jolie's MySpace

I'm turned on by the inappropriate, the unconventional and the untidy. The business executive who uncovers his tattooed arms and spikes his hair after he leaves the office. The black woman who stuffs her big ass in a pair of tight jeans and walks proudly down the street. The middle aged woman who doesn't cover her cleavage. The young girl in a thrift store creation when all the other girls are wearing Hollister. The young black man in Ralph Lauren when the rest of them are wearing Phat Farm and Sean John.

Angelina Jolie may be hot, but I'd rather sleep with Queen Latifah. Brad Pitt is clean and pretty, but give me the alcoholic Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Monet leaves me dry. Pollock gets me wet.

What is her personality like? Can she make me laugh? Is her brain the size of Jupiter? Does she look me in the eyes when she talks to me? Or is she just a perfect size 1 who talks about dieting and Oprah?

He's tall and good looking? That's nice, but what else? Does he like books? Music? Is he sensitive? Or is he just a jock with a remote in one hand and a beer in the other?

Graphic -
Glitter Graphics

Be on the look out for Series 3 of TRUE EROTIC TALES, where authors offer new essays to a new question.

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