Sometimes, I cannot help feeling that I’m a vessel that connects two universes together,
A writer whose dedication for conceptual metaphors and metaphysical philosophy gives way to high-calorie thoughts, untamed prose, and fun fiction.
A bookworm who’s drawn to intellectual horror and visually aesthetic gore, which gives Folding Fox’s wonderland a nicely grisly and ghastly cachet.
Yet, a writer with a free mind.
A chosen one whose hanker for mental stimulation, sexual transcendence, and spiritual enlightenment has earned him the privilege of becoming that welcoming, fertile vessel.
A foxy creature whose infallible flair for artistically sophisticated porn, sexually subtle undertones, and blazing hot erotica has made him that passionate, magnetic vessel.
Yet, a host with a free will.
The mere possibility of this being true makes my heart pound like crazy, my blood pump like when rain pours after the drought, and my brains boil like when a reading orgasm is lifted up to reach higher and unfamiliar heights.
Sexy enough for you?
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