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The Statue Fetish

By: Sultry Alice

Page 1, A fetish comes in many forms.


The art museum, was her favorite place

With her hand; the statues she would trace

The doctors told her it was a “Plastic love”

Her official diagnosis; fit her like a glove


Statues, mannequins and immobility

The objects of her fetish; in her reality

They never moved under her caress

Her passions, hidden beneath her dress


The cold smooth feel or bronze or stone

Overwhelmed her, and made her groan

She liked to touch them, when alone

She wanted her sexual arousal, unknown


Her most erotic fetish; just inside the door

A Spanish dancer she always wanted to explore

“Do not touch” read the sign upon the bust

Very stimulating; empowering her lust


She waited, until almost closing time

The room was empty, the pickings prime

Kissing and fondling the marble stone

She suddenly realized, she was not alone


The sculptor of the bust stood there

Of her fetish, he was now full aware

Come, I have a perfect man for you

Complete with bronze phallus; tis true



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