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.

“Shall I tell you what makes love so dangerous?

T’is the too high idea we are apt to form of it.”

— Ninon L’Enclos, 17th-century courtesan

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.