Erotic Smutpunk Press Release:
A Political Satire by Dr. Moctezuma Johnson
Cyberspace 2016 — Dump the Futa President, released in 2016 for the elections and incoming president, is a satire taking aim at the American political system. Read about what goes on behind the scenes in presidential politics. Be forewarned their is gratuitous straight and gay sex and gratuitous violence.
SUMMARY: A Mexican alien (from Mars) lands at CIA headquarters to get a fix of smack. In doing so, he meets Tronald Dump and falls in love. See what befalls him and Mr. Dump in this alien-politico Romeo and Juliet. It is for sale exclusively on Amazon (in various countries).
Keywords: Erotic SMUTPUNK, Smutpunk For Change, Political Erotica, Funny Porn.
Futanari Harley Quinn Poem
for all the futa fans of batman
she has a two-toned gun
the slick-skinned slut criminal
she’ll use the fucking thing
she’s got the jester’s PVC cap
the bells ring
red and black
as her clit
her nipples bulge
on her big
her dick rings
as her bell
mushroom-like and juicy
its cum tube
the cat woman’s mask
and matching black lipstick
as her red hair billows in Gotham’s wind
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The Japanese Love Doll Deal | an excerpt
Subtitle: A bizarre twist of fate on CyberMonday
This is the story of Thomas an ordinary chap somewhere in the heartland of America, you know a place I’ve never been to as I hug the liberal coasts when I do venture into the US but never mind me and my magical ways, let’s stick to young Thomas, trying to get ahead in life, to climb the corporate ladder and find himself a good woman with whom he can settle down and make babies.
Thomas was always a weird child way more into his toys than his peers. He was happy sticking to himself. This life needed money to survive so he had to interact with other humans, but that prospect didn’t thrill him and he did his best to ignore most human interaction. Thomas had blonde hair that he wore neatly parted to expose his face. His black glasses partially hid his sparkling blue eyes. His nose was pretty small like a child’s but then he had light facial hair that gave his cute baby face a more rugged, sexy look. He was not a bad looking guy if he would just take off his glasses. He was working selling insurance, a thankless job. Most people who he spoke with were furious at him and his company, but there was really nothing he could do to help. He wanted to help people but his hands were really untied. He came home to his messy little apartment and plopped down on the couch. He held his last beer can protectively. It was the only good thing on this Monday evening, the first Monday since the Thanksgiving Holiday. He popped the beer can open and it exploded all over him. “Goddamnit,” he said. He wasn’t mad about getting beer on him, he was mad that he wasted nearly all of his last beer. He checked his wallet and found a folded $1 bill. That wouldn’t get more beer. He turned on the TV and his favorite sports team The Old York Stinkies were getting pummeled 17-3. He flipped through the channels but there was nothing good on. Just advertisements for internet shopping and this new “Cyber Monday” stuff. Thomas got out his laptop and jumped on the internet, hoping something exciting would catch his eye. It was as bad as staring into the fridge when hungry and lazy: nothing appealed to him.
He ended up searching porn but that bored him. How many times could he watch a white girl with her teeth gritted yelling, “fuck me fuck me fuck me?” Porn was so predictable and criminally un-creative. Where was the fun? He searched “sex toy shops” and then “dick-lengthening pills.” After jumping from one page to another, Thomas found himself on a new site. This one was selling very expensive dolls. Each doll was handcrafted “by god himself” and the prices were in the ten thousand to one hundred thousand dollar range. The site featured hundreds of exquisite photos of the dolls. They were seen sitting at the dinner table in fine clothes, posed on the couch, leaning out the window, in corporate casual at the boardroom table, and in the bedroom. They were each beautiful as a supermodel, with high cheekbones, full lips, and incredible bodies. They weren’t quite the bodies of bimbos (no GG tits or anything), but they were very sexy with great curves.
Thomas was blown away.
They were so unique, so beautiful, and they stirred something sexually inside of him. The url was from a japanese love doll site. He checked his wallet again. He just had the dollar, but he did have plastic. He could whip out his credit card and purchase one of these lovely dolls. He couldn’t. The one he liked was twenty-seven thousand dollars. That was more than a car! For a doll. They were exquisite, classy, well-dressed, beautiful, sexy, inviting, but he just couldn’t. It was crazy. He thought of Larissa in his office. She was wonderful. She was like a doll to Thomas. He had finally gathered up the gumption to go up to her while she was eating salmon in the cafeteria and while holding his coffee he said what he’d practiced a thousand times, “Larissa, I was wondering if you have dinner plans tonight. I really admire you. I’d love to get to know you more.” Thomas was surprised it had come out so cogently. He was deathly afraid that he would trip all over his words as he usually did in front of a woman but practice makes perfect and that came out really perfectly. It didn’t matter. Jim, the managing broker stepped right in and put his hands on her shoulders and said, “She has plans. Plans to be at her knees in front of me.” He burst out into racaous, inappropriate laughter. Larissa blushed a little but wasn’t the type to buck the trend. She stayed complicit in his bragging of her as his sex toy and Thomas noticed she was wearing a choker that had a little hook to clasp to a leash. He shook his head like the thought was paining him and said, “Nevermind. Forget I asked, and stormed out of the room while Jim and a few of his cronies had a good laugh at Thomas’s expense and Larissa’s expense.
He clicked BUY.
It only took a few minutes to put in the requests he had: long black hair, a large C-cup, thick booty, full ruby red lips. He chose her clothes. He put in his address and credit card info and clicked confirm. Then he plopped back down on the couch, drank the two fingers of warm beer that hadn’t spilled and passed out on the couch.
Thomas woke up trembling to the sound of the doorbell. He shook off the cobwebs. He stood up, shakily, and went to the front door. When he opened it, it was pitch black out and really he should have checked out the window first. This was a great way to get robbed and murdered. This was why so many Americans carried guns, Thomas thought. He was so sleepy he’d be liable to shoot just about anyone, including himself, in this state. He blinked a few times and checked his watch. It was 3 a.m. There was a large box on his stoop. He grabbed it to lift it but it was heavy. He got a better grip and lifted it up. It had to be about 100 lbs. As he walked in the house with the box the weight in the box shifted. He put it down with a loud grunt and remained crouched. He stared at the box. He hadn’t grunted. The box moved and he jumped up to his feet and stepped back. “Oh my god!” he said.
The flaps to the box opened. It was like there was a cat in the box, it was moving on its own. It was a cat in some manner, the dirtiest, of the word. A tall, beautiful woman rose slowly out of the box. She had high cheekbones like a supermodel. Her long black hair was pulled back in a gorgeous pony tail. Her lips were painted red and full and juicy. She was wearing a sexy green tank top and jeans (the very outfit Thomas had picked on the internet). Her tits sure looked like the large C cup that he had requested. This girl was real and she was spectacular. Thomas stuttered, “My my my, you you you’re…”
“Thirsty. Can I have a glass of water?” She spoke in a Japanese accent.
“Sure sure,” Thomas said. He went to the fridge where he kept tap water cold and took out the bottle of water. The water sloshed around since his hands were shaking. Then he got a cup from the cupboard and poured water for her. It splashed all around and some landed on the counter. “Ice?”
(Continue reading this Cyber Monday Love Doll Story)
Book Review: Erotic Pulp 2 by Callie Press
Well, as always Callie has outdone herself. She outdoes herself so often it’s remarkable that she hasn’t come undone. Maybe she has. I know her hair, buttons, and blouses have.
This edition of Erotic Pulp has all the pulpy trimmings of smutpunk. It features a bad review of the text in the text with a sorrowful response of the mock-review that’s so real it’s hyper-real. There’s the story of BrendaLee Elkins, and then Fit Man and Burpee Girl are back to face off against the horrible Teen Abstiwench. There’s a rythmic Cowboy Poem, always needed, and a batter-dipped Asian Lechón. So as you can see you’ll get more turkey than Thanksgiving with a lot less ethnic holocaust.
This book, like the first Erotic Pulp (see Book Review here) is a ton of fun, very well written, and jumps all over the place in a pulpie b-movie I’m kind of high—or am I just tired?—surreal kind of gravity pull that leaves me holding my balls in my hand not sure how committed I am to jerking it. It’s erotica but it’s not really aimed at your libido any more than it is at your brain. It’s like getting a synaptic hand job. Sign me up for more, Callie. I’m an unabashed fan, so maybe my reviews are losing their pop at the perimeter of the circumference from ground zero: the point of erotic detonation in the Callieverse. They shouldn’t. These pulpy books will keep coming out and they should. Pick yours up now so you could say you were reading them before they made the movie.
Teacher Student Erotica: Jess and the Professor
Jess was his student. He watched her and marveled at her. He was the teacher, the professor, and he was respected. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so much acedemic admiration for his big brain as physical admiration for his big bulge, his big muscles, and his big smile. These girls were little giggling hyenas. Yes, they were university students, but here in the Far East that often meant that their bodies were more mature than their minds. Jess was one of these girls. She had a pretty face and was dressed like a sailor. She gave him a key-chain for Ppeppero day, the chocolate covered sticks day, that said I love you. He motioned for her to lean back on the desk. She was dubious, but she consented. Asian culture had taught her to respect authority and look up to teachers. Butterflies flapped in her gut, sweat formed on her palms, a faucet leaked into her panties, and she smiled uncontrollably as he taped a piece of paper over the tiny window on the classroom door. She was a virgin and had that nervous energy that virgins in the Far East have. Some people hated it, but he was into it and asked her to lift up her shirt and lean back.
He thought he knew what pink was, but he was wrong. Her breasts hung out. They were made of the softest white porcelain skin that he had ever seen. He had dreamed of Princess Chuckhole and these breasts must have been molded out of the same stardust as the princess’s tits. Dead center of each incredible mountain of flesh, for gravity had not played its cruel tricks on this young virgin’s tits just yet, was a perfect bulls-eye made out of a color he’d never seen before. It was the color of unfettered freedom. It was the color of the triumph of good over evil. It was the color of post-coital sleep. It was pink, and beige, and black, and white all rolled into pink. Not glitzy, glittery pink that girls paint on their sparkly lips. Real pink. The color of pussy. The color of love. The color of the inside of your esophagus and the inner workings of cosmic gears.
When his tongue accepted one of her pink little buttons, like candy off wax paper, sparks flew. They both could hear the sizzle of their attraction. He cupped the outsides of her breasts and squeezed them together and admired them. “They are amazing.”
She looked at the floor. “Do you like them?” Her cheeks were rosy.
“I adore them, Jess,” he pushed her onto her back on the desk. Her saddle shoes clipped the whiteboard shelf and knocked a few markers and erasers to the ground. His cock slid right in between her beautiful mounds. It was hot on her skin.
The penis wasn’t cold and snakelike how she had imagined. “I had no idea they were this hot.” She covered her mouth and giggled at what she had said.
He removed her hand. “Don’t cover your mouth. Your mouth is beautiful.” Her big eyes looked up at him and blinked. He stared at her kindly. Then he squeezed both of her breasts around his cock and glided in and out. She watched his face. His eyes rolled, the corners of his eyes wrinkled. If her perfect pink nipples were eyes then he made great eye-contact because his pupils locked on her tits.
She wasn’t sure what he was doing, where his cock would go next. Between her legs a wet fire was brewing. Everything was a new feeling and it was all so exciting. She was so happy to be on her back for her professor.
A new hot sensation hit under her chin. She craned down and saw white, thick cream spewing out of his cock and between her tit-flesh. “it feels so good. Hot. Does it feel good fpr you?”
“Mmmmnm, yes,” he said as he used her mountains of flesh to milk the last drops out of his hot viscous liquid onto her. She enjoyed getting him on her. She could smell it. It was a clean smell. Like life itself. Before she could ruminate on the smell of his cum, she reacted to its taste. He had scooped the cum off of her tots and onto his hand and was now feeding it to her. It was briny and clean. Like drinking sea-water.
After she had cleaned up every drop of him, she pulled to her feet and pulled her bra back on, her blouse back down, and said, “Now what?”
He looked at her and smiled, clearly indicating that was it for today. “Perfect. Next class I can teach you something new if you’d like.”
“I would like that, teacher,” she said. She giggled and started to cover her mouth. Then she made eye-contact with him and stopped her hand in mid-air. This made her giggle more. She shifted her weight from foot to foot then bit her lip. He reached out and patted her head like she was his pet. “See you tomorrow, Jess,” he said.
She walked out the door.
He removed the paper from the over the window on the classroom door. He watched her skirt ruffle as she walked. He plopped in his comfy leather chair and placed both hands behind his head. He put his feet up on his desk and thought, it wasn’t a bad life when you could titty-fuck your student’s perfect rack right after class.
Read more Asian Erotica by Moctezuma Johnson
Check out my future episodes:
Jess tethered under the desk
Jess blows another teacher while he fucks her
Jess Licks his ass
The Professor pops her cherry
The Professor pops her anal cherry
PUBLIC CUM TITS: “Mad For Jizz” — An excerpt fromfrom Bored To Tears by My Asian Husband
This excerpt is from Chapter Four
“Mad for Jizz” – The Public Cum on Tits Story about an Asian MILF and a virile Latino with a big cock
I was riding the subway across Seoul when I noticed this strait-laced older woman across the train sitting upright with her back arched and chin up. She was middle-aged and prim. Her blouse collar went all the way to the neck, like she was a 1660 Puritan. Her mind had to be all hopped up on Confucianism. She sat upright even as the subway car shook. Me? I was slouched like a teenager. She never slouched. She kept her head and neck up. She could be a posture-double for the Queen of England. She looked at me as I checked her out. She had a banging body. Big, I mean big tits, and shapely waist. She wore a beige pencil skirt and white blouse with high collar. She had long legs. Her purse was on her lap, expertly blocking any view into her private area. When I looked up to make eye contact, she looked away. Hot. The subway stopped and I took out my Korean Language Learning book. She looked up at it and stood up. She sat beside me and said, “You’ll never learn with that book. It’s no good.”
I was taking class to learn the local language, something few expats do around here.
We got out of the subway on the next stop and sat on a wood bench and chatted. Trains passed occasionally. She was pretty uptight. She didn’t have social grace as much as she was simply cautious. She never slouched for the entire talk that must have been half an hour. It seemed to me her nature was cautious, like she didn’t totally trust herself, felt she needed to curtail her inner dialogue, needed to respect the person she was with by not saying much. She must have been treated badly by somebody.
We made a date and met at a posh area in the Seoul. She wore a blue dress that showed off her big fake tits and augmented ass. This area had a department store nearby and a park outside. It was a part of Seoul that had been redeveloped after the prosperity. The stairwell we took to the shops was clean. We were going to a chain restaurant called Mad for Garlic. Koreans love this kind of restaurant. I think of it as a glorified McDonald’s.
“Are you hungry?”
“No? Then why are we going to eat?” I saw the top flesh of her tits and wanted to grab it, to suck on it.
“I thought you would want to. Americans always eat.”
“We do other things sometimes,” I said. My cock was getting hard in my pants. I was imagining pumping it through those tits.
“Then how do you keep your belly?”
“Do you know the expression to put your foot in your mouth?”
“Does it mean hungry?” she asked.
“Do you want a lesson?”
“Kneel down and I’ll show you.” I had yet to even touch this woman on the hand and now I was pushing her down to her knees by her shoulder. She kneeled and looked up at me. She still held one hand out so her purse would dangle from her elbow primly.
This was the fun of dating a prim Asian woman. I would be getting nowhere and then suddenly get my dick sucked. Other days, I would just learn a Korean word and go home and jerk it. It was a total crapshoot.
I put my hand into her curly hair at the back of her head and hooked onto her head. I pushed my body against her so my cock, still in the pants, pushed against her. I saw her eyes go wide. That’s when I whipped it out. She let out a little scream of surprise. I shoved her to it with both my hands pushing the back of her head degradingly toward my balls. I pushed until her lipsticked lips hit my ball sack. We made eye contact. I saw the humiliation and hunger in her eyes. I ripped her dress down and one fake massive tit jumped out over her the folded down fabric that clung to her midriff. I ravaged her mouth. I defiled her tonsils. I disgraced her throat. Then I tenderly kissed her lips with my clean-shaven, white balls. I pulled my smoking gun out of her mouth. She gasped for breath. “Oh my god, you’re so big and rough.”
I pawed at her big fake tit. “You’re so big and fake.”
I molested her big titties, one inside the dress and the other hanging out. The nipple hardened and she looked down at it. “Feel good?” I said as I flicked her nipple. Her face was red as a radish. “Yes, and I’m shameful,” she said. “I shouldn’t let you do anything to me like this.” She leaned her head back in pleasure as I continued to tease her nipple. “Am I your girlfriend?”
I overwhelmed her mouth by dipping my balls into it, debasing her image in front of my eyes, tainting her prim MILF purity. This Korean bitch thought a lot of herself which meant she thought nothing of herself and was now acting out that insecurity-complex by kneeling on the landing before me and nibbling the testicles dipped into her mouth with her tits out. She turned away and I grabbed her head in one hand and rubbed my meaty dick on her face with the other. I tarnished her well-done hair and made clumps stick to her forehead and strands go into her eye. I looked down at her and spit on her face. She closed her mouth tightly. I pushed my cockhead against her lips but she wouldn’t open. I kept rubbing my cock on her face, ruining her mascara, dripping precum and spit onto the tip of her flat nose. I stopped and admired her. She was a disheveled mess. “You look really pretty, Hyeon Mi.”
She looked mortified. She looked up at me with a strange look. I saw her mouth open a bit and jammed my hard cock into her mouth. I heard something behind me and turned to see another couple in the stairway. The girl was staring at Hyeon Mi and I. The guy was trying to pull her back, but she was mesmerized. She was staring. Hyeon Me went red. Even her chest was red, not just her cheeks. I took advantage by fucking her throat. She was protesting, I think, and emitting that mphhhhhhhhhhhh mphhhhhh humming sound with each thrust.
The woman looked from behind and above me at my cock facefucking my Korean MILF. She was a voyeur. She got closer and watched, leading her man by the hand.
She wasn’t bad looking. She was in short shorts flaunting great legs. She wore a backpack and was likely a Chinese tourist from Hong Kong, Singapore, or Malaysia because she spoke in a beautiful English accent: “Mind if I have a watch?”
Hyeon Mi had frozen and was now putty in my hands. I used her throat as a pizza maker uses dough, as an alcoholic uses whisky, as a diabetic uses sugar, as a white, big-dicked, sex addict uses a divorced, lonely, over-forty Korean MILF. I felt Hyeon Mi’s throat around my cockhead, and her lips squeeze the root of my dick. “Please do,” I said politely to the Chinese tourist and then let Hyeon Mi breathe again.
The tourist took my words to heart. She unbuttoned her shorts. Her hand was now in her panties rubbing away at her clit as my dick towered over the kneeling MILF.
I played with Hyeon Mi’s big tit as she caught her breath.
“Ok, baby, that’s enough,” the tourist’s husband said to her. “Let’s go.”
“I want to watch them finish. Will you shoot it on her face or tits?” she asked me.
I grabbed Hyeon Mi by the neck and pushed her down onto the root of my dick again. Her arms flailed as she got gagged again. “Where would you like?” I said to the tourist.
The tourist smiled. She was pretty. Her husband was looking all around like a nervous nellie.
“On her big tits.” The tourist’s hips writhed as she said it like sexual energy was controlling her now.
Hyeon Mi’s throat muscles were all around my cock. I pushed it deeper into her, until I was out of cock. She had taken it all. “You’ve totally deepthroated me, you dirty slut!” I said to the cocksucking, red-faced MILF. Then I looked at the tourist, proudly. I could see the desperation in the voyeur’s face. Her upper lip perspired and her cheeks were flushed. Her pupils were dilating. I was ready to cum. My balls tightened. I wanted to just hold Hyeon Mi down and let her throat milk out my jizz but this desperate tourist girl wanted to see a cum party and I wasn’t about to disappoint this cute little hard-up wife. I pulled my cock out of that glorious, tormented throat. Her big fake tit was flopping over her dress, the other tit was still in the blue fabric. Being watched and deepthroated had my balls working overtime, so the cumshot was an absolute deluge. Thick, globule shots dripped out of my dick and onto her fake tits. It looked like ice cream sliding down her breast. Then my next shots were uncontrollable rockets that landed in the nape of Hyeon Mi’s neck, on her tit, in her cleavage, and into the blue fabric of her dress. I always cum a lot but this was insane. It was a total onslaught, a cum-blitz right in front of two strangers, one of whom was now moaning as she rubbed herself. “Cover those tits,” she said in between two loud orgasmic moans.
My last shots were quite watery and really completed the staining of the MILF’s dress. She was a total cum-swamp. I pushed her big tits together and all the cum pooled in her cleavage. Then I pulled her tits apart and watched the webby cum stretch between them. I noticed that the horny pussy-rubbing tourist’s husband had a camera. “Take a picture of those cum webs,” I instructed.
The female tourist said something to the male tourist in Chinese and sure enough he came over and snapped a few photos. “Get up close. Get her nipples. Get one with her tits and her face, too.” He clicked a last photo and walked back to his wife, who was done finishing herself off. “Get his email so you can send them,” she admonished her man.
Hyeon Mi was a cascade of cum. It was like a cum-cloudburst had erupted onto her. She was still totally red in the face. I don’t think I ever noticed that a woman could stay embarrassed for so long. The funny thing was, the humiliation had just begun.
After trading emails, while some of my cum-spate trickled off Hyeon Mi and onto the ground, I lifted the blue flap of dress over her cum-drenched tit and tried to fix her up the best I could. Her hair was stuck to her forehead, glued with spit and pre-cum. Her bust was totally stained with cumshots. The tit that was out was now making her dress dark as the dress soaked up the semen avalanche that was released from her tits.
“You have to. I’m hungry. Don’t you remember, Americans are always hungry?
I grabbed her hand and led her forward. “Don’t you want a boyfriend, Hyeon Mi?”
Her hand was sweaty. I opened the door to the restaurant. Luckily for her, it was dark inside. The hostess looked right at her bust and gave a wry smile. She led us to a table. We walked past many tables with people. There were lots of glances, chuckles, and whispering. The hostess wisely seated us in a private nook in the corner. I couldn’t tell what Hyeon Mi was feeling, she was stoic. I reached under her dress and found that she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and her pussy was sopping wet from her own avalanche of pussy juice. “Hyeon Mi, you little slut!”
She smiled at me. “Come on, let’s order, we need to feed that massive appetite.”
Read “Mad For Jizz” and other short stories from the full book Bored To Tears by My Asian Husband
for Nia Farrell and Mystk Knight
Oh how I wanted to humiliate Mystk
she’s just so nice and sweet
Oh how I wanted to bend her over
paddle her ass as my treat
but Nia won the humiliation
and Mystk won the contemplation
so I have to—Ugh!—be nice
One is there, down on her knees
looking up with a ball gag in her mouth
Two is here, up on the swing
looking down toothy smile on her face
yes, both are in the same position
but one is in a poem and the other a humiliation
no, both aren’t in the same position
one will get her ass paddled and the other will soar
wait, i hope you shook your head like you should
at that lame image
one will soar and the other get sore
oh no, puns too!
perhaps there aren’t two ladies
on knees and swings
perhaps both are writers
committed to their crafts
into lush white clouds
like whipped cream
into deep blue sky
like swelling ocean
into deep synaptic canals
like rising hormones
like sweet serotonin
like love of love itself
struck hard with
the deep malaise of hypoglycemia
the pallor of Mediterranean anemia
Rejoice! The Eagle is up
You Aztec! You Mayab! You Lenape!
You Bohemian! You Chameleon! You!
Rejoice! The Jaguar is up
You Olmec! You Tzeltal! You Zapotec!
You Deviant! You Comedian! You!
The Eagle is the Warrior of the Sun
The Jaguar is the Warrior of the Night
Both equally powerful, like eum and yang
the contrary forces held in a cosmic dance
wielded daftly by the attuned magician,
the wordsmith, the universal stream manifestor,
the beacon harnessing a band of energy.
I guess I’ll just have to wait to humiliate someone with a poem. This one was written as a prize to Nia and Mystk who came in fourth and fifth in the MJ69 Raffle. It was meant to be first about humiliation, then something uplifting, but I failed miserably and writing what I intended and ended up scribbling this thing about balance, I think. I’m not really sure. You decide.
Note: Eum and Yang are the Korean words for yinyang.
Two Books: Give Good Head and The Sex Manual
Read these two and learn How to Please any Man or Woman
How to Give Good Head by Callie Press
The Sex Manual by Moctezuma Johnson
The Original SMUTPUNK DUO share what they know in two funny, short books about how to have sex better. There are many innuendos, tips, and general attitude adjustments that can help you score and keep (or discard) all the partners you want by keeping him, her, and them satisfied.
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