Bed scene description. My view on writing sex scenes in works of an erotic nature

Mi Suri grinned lightly, noticing how the poor teacher's hands were shaking. His desire and irresistibility in time were visible. - Wait. I can't do that. Let's leave everything for later. Please understand me. You can’t. We cannot develop our already fragile relations so quickly. Ki Hong, just understand and don’t interfere. - The girl sadly lowered her gaze and closed her honey eyes. (Well, those are the lenses) She didn’t want to be alone and leave the guy alone, but there was no other way. “Maybe it’s worth staying? Or...” Mi took the psychologist’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips, lightly touching the guy’s gentle fingers. "I love. Only you. But why can’t I tell you this? Such simple words and it's so hard to pronounce them. I hope....you understand this from without explanation" Eli, grinning noticeably, she moved a little closer to young man, but immediately pulled away. "Stop. Stop me. Ki Hong, please stop." Mi continued to repeat the same phrase to herself, without having an explanation even for herself. Without showing your feelings and without meeting your gaze with the eyes of your loved one. “Heart. How stupid you are now and can’t make a decision.”

And suddenly he realized that he could lose his happiness if he did anything wrong. One had only to look into her eyes - and everything became clear... No, this time he will strangle his crazy emotions, put his pride on his throat - just not to lose his Mi Suri. That is why he unquestioningly fulfilled all her requests. Gratefully squeezing her fragile fingers, he put the keys in the pocket, having already opened the door, he took a step back. “No, I have to. I have to for her sake... Forget about yourself!”
“Of course, Mi, you can do whatever you want,” he sadly lowered his eyes, “But know that I always think about you and worry.” Always. - Leaning slightly, Lee weightlessly kissed the girl on the top of her head, enthusiastically inhaling the aroma of her hair and perfume.

Thank you. It is very important for me to know that you are nearby.... - “You still don’t understand anything.” The girl grinned lightly. “Ki Hong...kiss me,” she shyly looked away and then continued, “...if-, it’s not difficult for you.” Mi ate noticeably glanced at the guy from under her bangs. She stepped back and leaned her elbows on the wall. "You're not going to refuse my request, are you?" The girl reached out her hand and took the guy by the jacket, gradually pulling him towards her. “No. I know that Ki will not harm me and will never dare to touch me if I don’t want it. But then why am I so afraid to feel him in me again? Yes and I don’t really want to stay at home. I just want to cuddle up to you, just talk, stay up all night, and then meet a new day together....damn....somehow I’ve become completely sentimental.But I can’t now I don't want to leave him and I don't want to be alone."

British writer Erica Leonard James topped the list of the highest paid writers, according to Forbes magazine. Author of the acclaimed book "50 Shades of Gray" Last year earned nearly $100 million. Probably the secret of success is that the book is often downloaded onto electronic media so that it can be read erotic novel V in public places, without fear of sidelong glances. And of course in large quantities explicit scenes! Artistic value The novel has been called into question more than once, but there are more than enough piquant moments that can make anyone blush! We chose the boldest “shades of gray”.

1. “Do you know what I will do with you now?” – he adds, stroking my chin. Somewhere inside, in the dark depths, my muscles are contracting with sweet languor.
2. “It feels so good,” he whispers and, grasping my fingers tightly, begins to move my hand up and down. His breathing becomes uneven, and when he looks at me again, I see molten lead in his gaze. - Smart girl.
3. I put a piece of omelette in my mouth, but I don’t feel the taste. “Continue training!” “I want @@@ you in my mouth!” Is this also included in the program?
4. Moving down, I swallow him deeper. Ha! My inner goddess rejoices. I will do it.

His breathing becomes uneven, and when he looks at me again, I see molten lead in his gaze.

5. He kisses my neck. I tilt my head to the side to give him more room. Sitting down, Christian slowly pulls my jeans and panties down my legs.
6. I arch my back with a groan. Christian squeezes and gently pulls his nipples, causing them to swell. I look in amazement at the lust-stricken slut in the mirror. Oh, how good!
7. Putting his hand between my legs, he pulls the blue thread... Oh no! Christian carefully removes the tampon and tosses it into the nearest toilet. Oh mother of God...
8. Christian leans down and slowly runs the tip of the glass over my forehead, my nose - it smells like expensive, well-crafted leather - and over my parted lips, from which heavy breathing escapes. He puts the whip in my mouth and I can taste it.

9. I gasp for air and squeeze my fingers lightly. Christian grins: “I want to be inside you. Take off my jeans. You are in command."
10. “Please don’t hit me,” I whisper pleadingly. He furrows his brows, widens his eyes, blinks a couple of times.
11. The dress barely covers my bare butt. With a swift movement, Christian puts his hand between my legs, his finger slowly entering me. With his other hand he holds my waist tightly. I can barely contain my groan.
12. His tongue knows no mercy, persistent and domineering. It moves in a circle, over and over again, without stopping. Pleasure borders on pain.
13. Strikes along the thighs, short sharp blows to the pubis, to the legs, and again to the torso, again along the thighs. The beats don't stop until the music reaches its climax. Suddenly it breaks off. The whip also freezes.

I've read enough writing guides bed scenes from a variety of authors, in order to understand that they are all disingenuous, without revealing the main secret of the success of the sex scene. Basically, such articles describe the technique of the process, analyze the main poses in detail, give examples of successful and unsuccessful descriptions, and give some general recommendations.

This material is prohibited for reading by persons under the age of majority, it contains direct reference to the male and female reproductive organs and can cause a strong negative reaction. Be careful! 18+

Indeed, using one of these manuals, you can write a completely acceptable sex scene, but mmm... a monkey, if you beat it for a long time, can also be “taught” to type letters in the correct sequence. Only this work will be mechanical, and, accordingly, the result will be completely different from what the author would like to see.

So what's the deal? Why don't the manuals, which are detailed and thorough, with numerous examples and good techniques, help? What do experienced authors hide from readers?

At one time, I set out to write a porn novel, stuffed with sex scenes through... oh, no! All four hundred pages written in Word were one continuous continuous sex scene with a rating of sorts... NC-21. But what turned out to be more surprising for me personally, when I sat down to re-read the resulting masterpiece, not one of these scenes was repeated. Each was unique, had its own emotional coloring and conveyed a completely definite sensual charge to the reader: from the most tender romance to dirty lustful passion, from the insight of timid hope to brutal violence, from the euphoria of long-awaited possession that overshadows all other feelings to the tart bitterness of an incest relationship.

This porn novel, which was subsequently destroyed (yes, authors are sometimes ashamed of what they write, I’m no exception), revealed to me the key to understanding the main secret to the success of a sex scene, which can be used by both beginners and seasoned authors. But before I name it, I would like to conduct a small experiment with you.

Close your eyes and mentally imagine next picture: you are at the computer, wearing headphones, greedily reading some interesting story, and then someone from your family starts bothering you. Your emotions are understandable. You get distracted and it's unpleasant. But do you feel the touch? No, you definitely understand that they are trying to tear you away from interesting activity that you are being pulled or shaken, but... do you yourself feel the touch of your loved one? Can you later remember that your mother's hands were a little damp because she had finished washing the dishes? Or that my brother's fingers were cold, because... did he come from the street five minutes ago? Most likely not, because the touches of relatives are mostly neutral for you: as if you were touching yourself.

Now imagine that in the same situation it was not a relative who touched you, but a dearly loved one. Immediately goosebumps will run through your body, your breathing will become a little uneven, your abdominal muscles may tighten, and you will feel a feeling of awkwardness or pleasant joy. In any case, you will react differently than from the touch of a relative.

And the situation will be completely different when a family member whom you fear or hate touches you. Well, mmm... someone like a stepfather, mother-in-law or a very evil grandmother. Involuntarily, you will try to get away from this touch, move away as much as possible, move away. Your reaction will be more severe. Your back muscles will tense, your lips will close together, you will frown and start drumming your fingers on the tabletop in irritation.

This, in my understanding, is master key to success. The majority of the reader sits down to read an erotic story in order to plunge into the atmosphere, feel the emotions of the main character, and, as it were... mmm... live his life. And the more detailed and believably these emotions are conveyed, the more delight he experiences, as a rule. If the situation were reversed, I believe instead of darkness erotic stories readers would study the atlas on anatomy.

This is also the biggest failure when, guided by all sorts of manuals and having perfectly described the sequence of actions required for a bed scene (lie on the bed, spread your legs, insert a penis, etc.), the author completely forgets about all this mechanical work the characters of their heroes. In this case we have whole piece text, taken out of the general context of the work - a work in which previously readers experienced the slightest shades of feelings of the main characters, reveled in their touching affection or mind-numbing burning desire. And then... pppff! And instead of something sweet, they finally got something indigestible as an aftertaste.

Now, to summarize all of the above, I will give several recommendations taken from my own experience, based on which any author, even a beginner, in my opinion, will be able to cope with writing a sex scene:

1. Be aware of feelings

A character’s feelings/emotions/attitude largely depend on:

Relationship to the object (the same touch can give both a wave of bliss and a surge of acute indignation or hostility, depending on who touched the hero: a nasty hunched old woman, an imperious arrogant lord exuding discontent, or a playful puppy with black eyes - buttons),

Current mood (if the hero has previously spent the whole day in the saddle, then, having rolled off the horse - oh, alas! - he will dream of a soft bed and hot soup, because he is tired, hungry, his legs are numb, his back aches, etc. , but not about instant sexual adventure),

From gnawing problems (if someone died for the hero, or somewhere something didn’t work out the way he would like, or if the hero is burdened with guilt or responsibility, then mmm... most likely he will be so absorbed in his internal problems and troubles, which will stop paying attention to the surrounding reality, fall into apathy and perceive a sexual adventure without the proper enthusiasm),

From external circumstances (if a chase is sent after the characters and any hour and any minute may well be their last spent together, then, despite the inevitably present discomfort and accumulated fatigue, all the characters’ feelings will be heightened to the limit, so their closeness is most likely , will turn out to be feverishly convulsive, crumpled and insatiable: they will strive to have time to get enough of each other, dissolve in a partner or take some part of him for themselves... In this case, long preparations, a candlelit dinner, a bath with rose petals and champagne, relaxed languor and other romantic things will lose their relevance).

Therefore, there is no need to rush and write a delightfully tender and sensual sex scene immediately after the character’s entire family has died. Sad emotions will not disappear so quickly. Most likely, they will become dull and go through the entire bed scene with a slight tinge of bitterness and regret, an attempt to forget themselves, to find support in their partner.

2. Don’t betray your heroes

Each hero has his own (ideally unique) character, tastes and preferences, line of behavior, temperament, which will certainly leave their mark on his behavior in bed. If the character for 3/4 of the work was written as frivolous, eccentric, sarcastic and sharp-tongued, then in the end, when the moment of the sex scene has arrived, it is very sad to see how he turns into an automatic machine for inserting/removing a penis from the female body.

Where did all the causticity and insolence go? Where has competent trolling gone? Throughout 3/4 of the work, the partner only dreamed that this character would “shut up someday, because his jokes...”, and now at the moment when even normal people from nervous tension involuntarily begin to giggle, our eccentric sarcastic character obediently performs compulsory program, read by the author in the relevant recommendations.

It's funny to you? I don't. As an example, I’ll give a real bestseller of foreign literature - the book “Shantaram” by Gregory David Roberts, where jade rods and caves of voluptuousness were used to describe the sex scene, which, in my opinion, had little connection with the main character - a criminal who escaped from an Australian prison, a rebel and mafia.

3. Track the atmosphere of the scene

Atmosphere is a rather complex thing that can be too much for even experienced authors to handle. On the one hand, the atmosphere is influenced by everything (place, lighting, previous events, the mood of the characters, etc.), on the other hand, the atmosphere lives as if on its own, setting a certain impetus for the development of certain events. And the point here is not so much environment, how much in the mood it creates - Attention! - from the reader.

This mood can change back and forth several times during one sex scene. But there are two general cases: the atmosphere is either under the author’s control and he changes/creates it purposefully, or the atmosphere exists on its own in isolation from the author.

What are the standard patterns of mood changes in a sex scene?

Gradually intensified, increasing (as a rule, most authors use it. So what? It’s very convenient and technical to describe all emotions in increasing increments: from a light kiss on the neck to hard sex with elements of violence),

Fickle, explosive, with a sharp change in emotions (usually used when partners quarrel or sort things out among themselves, which in the process of the next transition from one extreme to another leads to a short but passionate bed scene),

Roundabout, welcome back to starting point (classic example, when for the main characters a sex scene occurs for the first time and due to lack of experience or some unresolved interpersonal conflicts, at some point things stall, after which the heroes have to somehow defuse the atmosphere, calm each other down and start all over again),

Descending (when we're talking about about violence in bed, which one of the partners did not count on. It seemed... it seemed like everything started out well (candles, flowers, etc.), but when it came directly to the insertion of the penis, the partner felt pain, or she changed her mind, or the partner offended her with some of his harsh remark, or he turned out to be pervert, etc.).

I would also like to especially note that there is a big difference between the way a sex scene is imagined in the author’s head and the way he embodied his idea on paper. Very often the first does not coincide with the second, and this becomes the reason why the atmosphere is lost. In such cases, expanded reader reviews, from them one can judge whether the original author’s message reached the reader or not.

4. Don't play hide and seek with time.

Time is very important point when writing a sex scene.

So, for example, if we have a bed made of silk, soft lighting, no need to get up after four hours, then the action can unfold before the reader gradually: long foreplay, massage, erotic games, ambiguous conversations, careful preparation, some special views lubricants that enhance sensuality, incense, smoking, turning sexual intercourse almost into a certain kind of sacred act in order to create the necessary atmosphere of reverent attention, necessity and importance for a woman, etc.

If the sex scene finds the heroes in a trench under enemy machine guns, then they have at most 3-5 minutes to caress each other in front of their faces possible death for both - exactly as much time as it takes the enemy to load a new machine gun belt into the machine gun. A long and careful writing of a sex scene in such a situation, in my opinion, will at least cause bewilderment in the reader.

But in addition to the structural logic, which is responsible for the appropriateness of the author’s chosen speed of unfolding the sex scene before the reader’s gaze, rhythm is also important. The manner of writing, speech patterns and sentence construction must - no, they simply must! - convey the smoothness or rapidity of a time process. Otherwise, the picture in the author’s head, his idea, will be conveyed to the reader in a highly distorted form: for the author, the entire scene will fly by in seconds, and the reader will have to sift through a dozen pages.

5. Don’t confuse the physical and the spiritual

How often have you come across erotic stories, in which a rape victim would melt with delight in the hands of a skilled rapist, huh? I think quite often, because this plot is one of the most popular. But only in works true masters In this plot direction, the emotions of the victim and the physical pleasure from the process are somehow separated.

How can I tell you... in general, there are several pitfalls here.

Firstly, physical pleasure itself may simply not arise in a person even with intimacy with a beloved partner, let alone a rapist.

Secondly, the occurrence of physical pleasure in itself does not mean anything. It is not so complete as to lead a person into ecstasy.

Third, greatest pleasure From sex, a person receives his brain, which increases physical pleasure tens and hundreds of times.

The brain acts as a kind of resonant circuit: it multiplies reactions from some physical influences, and cancels them out from others, causing the attenuation of pleasure. Therefore, it is unpleasant for us when a person we hate touches us, and vice versa, it is good when a loved one does it. The brain filters the information coming to it and displays the necessary flags - friend/foe, pleasant/unpleasant.

However, in addition to the brain, a person also has a soul. And this soul is vulnerable enough not to survive violence as such in principle. Otherwise there would not be so much fuss with the long-term rehabilitation of rape victims. The violence experienced literally breaks the human psyche, changing it irreversibly and often for the worse.

At the same time, nothing prevents the victim from experiencing physical pleasure during rape, but mmm... what does the soul feel? And what conclusions does the brain make from this? Where does the old personality disappear after this? All these questions cannot be answered by basing the human response on physical pleasure alone. How are we different from animals?

Therefore, it seems to me that when writing a sex scene, one should take into account both the physiological aspect (body reactions), the social aspect (brain signals), and the spiritual aspect (soul experiences). However, they may be in sufficient contradiction with each other that a plot conflict may arise.

For example, the Duchess loves her husband's trusted servant. With intimacy with her husband, her physiological and social aspects will be at their best, and the spiritual, on the contrary, will go into the minus, while with intimacy with a servant, the spiritual and physiological aspects will be at their best, and the social will go into the minus.

By taking into account the nuances described above and reflecting them in the sex scenes with the husband and with the servant, you can get two sex scenes that are completely different in sensuality and intensity.

6. Know when to stop

Not everything and not always needs to be written down, right down to the smallest details. Sometimes such detailing only harms the work.

Let me give you an example: “He peered for a long time into her green eyes, the colors of the first snowdrops that had just emerged after the winter, inwardly melting at how softly she hugged the silk with a V-neck pink dress her flat girlish breasts and two protruding pea-shaped nipples, which shone through so invitingly through the thin fabric, only fueled the awakened desire that spread in languid bliss in the lower abdomen.”

And now the question: is it so important for the reader to know at the moment described that the shirt had a V-neck? Does anything change if this definition is removed from this sentence?

In essence, no, it doesn’t change, and it doesn’t affect the general mood either. Then why? Why try to cram everything into one sentence at once, overloading the reader with unnecessary information? this moment information?

The same thing happens when trying to paint a sex scene, going to every smallest step and describing it in every detail. So page after page drags on, and the characters don’t even get to the point of directly caressing the crotch. It’s good when the general mood is not lost and the author correctly builds up the atmosphere. But most often, somewhere in the middle, the reader forgets what was there at the beginning, and loses confidence in whether he is interested in knowing what awaits the heroes at the end.

Meanwhile, the proposals are growing and swelling, adding more and more new details to the interior, the properties of fabrics, important facts from the biographies of the heroes, strategic plans for the palace coup, the number of servants with their occupation and specialization, the most likely reasons for the breakage of the carriage rim, the geography of the kingdom, etc.

The reverse situation is also critical, when phrases lack imagery and given by the author the picture is so meager that it is impossible to imagine the characters in space. One inevitably gets the feeling that they love each other somewhere in a vacuum, outside of time and distance.

7. Watch out for epithets

IN in this case There are two nuances.

The first is identifying the basic things. If you called a member a member, and not flesh, not nature, not a penis, not a bolt, not a sausage, etc., then I think it’s not worth introducing a dozen other epithets as the main action unfolds. The reader will simply become confused in such alternative anatomy and, without understanding the great artistic design the author, will leave him offended.

The second is the different temperature of the epithets used, for which “tender”, like “chaste”, sounds quite innocent (cold), but “cheeky”, “burning”, “passionate”, like “lustful”, do not evoke anything at all. innocent associations (hot). Therefore, one of the authors’ skills lies in the correct sequential use of available epithets in order to create exactly the temperature atmosphere (cold-hot) that he initially planned for the sex scene.

As an example, if we are talking about an ascending atmosphere, then you should start with timid touches of lips, a fluttering heart (or eyelashes), soft velvet skin, smoothly moving to a ripe body, passionate curves, sensual kisses, and from them to ragged, ragged breathing , rhythmic thrusts, bitten lips, etc.

So, by playing with the alternation of temperature coloring of epithets, you can create any atmosphere. In this case, the temperature of the words is extremely important, because it is written in the text implicitly. Therefore, if you blurt out something very hot somewhere in the middle of a completely neutral scene, this will lead to bewilderment on the part of the reader and a feeling of dissonance when everything seems to be well written, but at the same time something is wrong.

8. Be aware of the situation

By this I mean not only the physical environment as the immediate scene of action: walls, table, chair, bed - without which any work will inevitably lose part of its appeal, but also the social one.

It just so happens that not a single person becomes a person in isolation from society, so there will always and everywhere be prying eyes, rumors, gossip, and whispers. A typical mistake, in my opinion, is when the author introduces a character with bright distinctive features, sharply distinguishing him from the general background, but at the same time forgets to give society’s reaction to him.

How, you ask, can this relate to the sex scene?

Let me give you an example of a hotel near the main highway. The partitions there will most likely be wooden, audibility is good, the travelers are tired, and now one secluded couple wakes up their neighbors in the middle of the night with voluptuous shouts. In our world, we knock such neighbors on the radiator or call the police. So why is everyone so tolerant and united in the imaginary world?

My explanation goes something like this: the authors of erotic stories are so obsessed with the rising atmosphere that sometimes they are simply afraid to the point of panicky stomach cramps to interrupt it with a polite knock on the door, say, of a mountain troll asking them to squeeze each other a little more quietly, otherwise he will here my fists itch and in general. ^__^

Such a concentration on the feelings of the main characters for each other, of course, justifies itself: a sensual charge is transferred to the readers, they blush, turn pale, turn to stone and others “eat” - but mmm... where is the highlight?

But it is she who elevates the text from a craft (the author knows how to write sex scenes, and we see this) to a creative breakthrough (the sex scenes written by the author are not forgotten, you want to return to them again and again), when the required number of sex scenes have already been written, until the author “I was getting my teeth into it” and it turned into quality.

I still remember the erotic scene from Ray Bradbury’s story “The Secret of Wisdom,” because I was deeply struck by the simplicity with which the author was able to create an incredibly vivid erotic scene visible in all details. The maestro wrote that the boy’s mouth smelled like a freshly chewed stalk of grass, which had a sweet, fragrant aroma, and my brain immediately built a whole picture of the village with its fields, cows, landscapes, smells, the chirping of insects and so on.

So one small touch - one detail that was insignificant at first glance - was able to evoke a whole storm of feelings in my soul. I still keep this scene in my head and, frankly, I draw inspiration from it.

9. Reflect the main idea

Sex does not always reflect the disposition and love of partners for each other. With the help of a bed scene, you can express a lot of different feelings and situations: mutual cooling towards each other, indifference of one of the partners, hatred for each other, pushing the heroes into the same bed, the bitterness of loss, when it doesn’t matter who owns the heroine, as long as he has , just to warm with its warmth, humiliation and submission, fear of one towards another, etc.

A true master is able to describe equally well both everyday fucking and that special night that can happen 1-2 times in a life - no more. In this case, everyday fucking will look like just everyday fucking, and that very unique night will look like that very unique night. Because with the help of intimacy, when human souls are naked in the same way as their bodies, you can dot all the i’s, because in such a situation the character has nowhere to hide from himself. And even if he plays here, masterfully depicting passion, this is also visible and is completely reflected in the author’s letter.

So, in a good way, the main idea should be defined in advance. “What do you need to show with this intimacy?” - this is the question that you should ask yourself before writing another sex scene.

10. Believe in yourself

Amazing, right? You need to believe in yourself. After all, it so often happens that, after reading a story, we note to ourselves: “What a bed scene!”, “What a talent this author is,” “I will never be able to write anything like that...”, etc. . Of course, at first it always happens that, having exhausted ourselves with at most 2-3 sentences in 1.5-2 hours, we give up and give up on the text. Moreover, there are a lot of other stories around, where everything is described better, more beautiful, and sexier... well, in general, in no way comparable to our three sentences.

Now is the time to remember point number 1 and the preface. Your story won't be that good in beautiful words or correctly constructed phrases (words and letters - they are the same for everyone), but with your feelings, i.e. with what you and only you can put on paper, with your experience, with your feelings, with your attitude towards life.

If it were possible to write a sex scene perfectly, then mmm... the ancient Greeks would have done it before us. But bed scenes, like erotic stories, are written every day by the hundreds. So why?

Because feelings do not become obsolete and never disappear without a trace. And, if your heroes are asking to be written, then you need to give them a chance. Who knows, a couple of years will pass, your skill will grow, and then you will be able to edit what has already been written, but if you don’t write anything, everything will be forgotten: the feelings, the characters, and you yourself at this age.

In conclusion, I would like to say that all the recommendations described above are purely advisory in nature. They helped me write better. I hope it will help you too.

Beautiful, sensual, exciting, temperamental: we have collected for you the best erotic scenes from world literature. Let's not be verbose! Read and enjoy!

"North".

“There is a green wreath in the red hair, drops roll down from the breasts, from the tender, pink, like cloudberry, ends - it must be cold. There are geese in the hands, blood is oozing from the geese, flowing around the chiseled legs.

I don't have the strength to endure it. And right there, on the warm red stones, Marey warms the cool, pale pink cloudberries with her lips.

No, they haven’t warmed up yet, you see, they’re still cold.

Somewhere forests are burning. On a red stone near a quiet lake a fire of fragrant pine needles smokes. Pelka roasts a fat goose over the fire; fire plays on green, red; lips and hands are bloody. He smiles barely audibly with his eyes at Marey: there is no need to speak out loud.

There was a crunching noise in the distance: a bear was rushing through the slum. He calmed down - and only the white husky grumbled angrily through his sleep.

The fire goes out. Sister pine trees are moving closer from the darkness - everything is darker, everything is already peace - and now there are only two in the whole world.”

"Hello, sadness." Francoise Sagan

“At six o’clock, returning from a voyage to the islands, Cyril pulled the boat onto the sandy shore. We walked to the house through a pine grove and, to warm up, started fun romp, ran in starts. He always caught up with me not far from home, rushed at me with a cry of victory, threw me onto the ground strewn with pine needles, twisted my hands and kissed me. Even now I still remember the taste of those breathless, fruitless kisses and how Cyril’s heart beat near my heart in unison with the wave splashing on the sand... One, two, three, four - the heart beat, and the sea quietly splashed on the sand, once, two, three... One - he began to breathe more evenly, the kisses became more confident, more insistent, I no longer heard the splash of the sea, and only the quick, continuous tremors of my own blood echoed in my ears.”

Julio Cortazar

“We were not in love with each other, we simply indulged in love with a detached and critical sophistication and then fell into a terrible silence, and the foam from the beer hardened in the glasses of oakum and became warm while we looked at each other and felt: this and there is time. Eventually Maga would get up and start wandering around the room. More than once I saw how she looked at her body with admiration in the mirror, lifting her breasts with her palms, as in Syrian figurines, and with a slow gaze, as if stroking her skin. And I could not resist the desire to call her and feel how she was with me again after just a whole moment she had been so lonely and so in love, believing in the eternity of her body.”

John Williams

“Sometimes, lazy and sleepy after love, he would lie, washed by some slow, gentle stream of sensations and unhurried thoughts; being inside this stream, he did not know for sure whether he was speaking out loud or simply accepting into his consciousness the words generated by these sensations and thoughts.

He dreamed of something ideal, of worlds where they could always be together, and he half believed in the feasibility of what he dreamed of. “But if you and I...” he said and continued to talk, constructing an opportunity that was hardly much more attractive than their current situation. They both knew, without saying it out loud, that the possibilities they were inventing and contemplating were ritual gestures of sorts in honor of their love and the life they had now.

And this life was such as neither he nor she could have imagined before. Their attraction to each other grew into passion, and that into deep sensuality, renewed day by day.

Love and books, Katherine once said. - What else is needed?

And Stoner thought that this was exactly the case, that this was one of the truths that he now knew.

For their life that summer was not limited to love intimacy and conversations.”

"The Magus." John Fowles

“I remembered Alison, our love games. If she were there, naked, we would make love on a bed of pine needles, take a dip and make love again. I was filled with bitter sadness, a mixture of memory and knowledge; memory of the past and what should be, the knowledge that nothing can be returned; and at the same time a vague guess that it’s not worth returning everything - for example, my empty ambitions or syphilis, which has not yet manifested itself. I felt great. God knows what will happen next; Yes, it doesn’t matter when you’re lying on the seashore in such wonderful weather. It is enough that you exist. I hesitated, waiting without fear for something to push me towards the future. He turned over on his stomach and made love with the ghost of Alison, like an animal, without shame or reproach, like a lustful machine sprawled on the stones. And, burning his soles, he threw himself into the water.”

"Lolita". Vladimir Nabokov

“But my Lolita was a playful girl, and when she let out that muffled laugh that I loved so much, I realized that she had previously been contemplating me with playful eyes. She rolled onto my side, and her warm brown curls fell on my right collarbone. I faked the awakening rather incompetently. At first we lay quietly. I quietly stroked her hair and we kissed quietly. What brought me into some kind of blissful embarrassment was that her kiss was distinguished by somewhat comical subtleties in the sense of the fluttering of an inquisitive sting, from which I concluded that she had been trained in early age some little lesbian. No Charlie could teach her such sophistications! As if wanting to see if I had had my fill and learned the lesson I had promised earlier, she leaned back slightly, watching me. Her cheeks were flushed, her plump lower lip was glistening, my disintegration was close. Suddenly, with a flash of hooligan fun (a sign of a nymphet!), she put her mouth to my ear - but for a long time my mind could not break the hot hum of her whisper into words, and she interrupted it with laughter, and brushed the curls from her face, and tried again, and An amazing feeling that I was living in a fantastic, newly created, crazy world, where everything was permitted, slowly came over me as I began to guess what exactly was being offered to me. I replied that I didn’t know what game we were talking about - I didn’t know what she and Charlie were playing. “Are you saying that you never?” she began, looking intently at me with a grimace of disgust and disbelief. “You mean never?” she began again. I took advantage of the respite to poke my face into various tender spots. “Stop it,” she squealed nasally, hastily removing her brown shoulder from under my lips. (In a very curious way, Lolita considered - and continued to count for a long time - all touches, except for a kiss on the lips and simple sexual intercourse, as either “slobbery romance” or “pathology”). “So you never,” she continued to insist (now kneeling above me), “never did this when you were a boy?” “Never,” I answered with complete truthfulness. “Wonderful,” said Lolita, “so look how it’s done.” However, I will not bother the learned reader a detailed story about Lolita's arrogance. Suffice it to say that the warped observer did not see a trace of chastity in this pretty, barely formed girl, who was ultimately corrupted by the skills of modern children, co-education, fraudulent enterprises like Girl Scout bonfires and the like. For her, purely mechanical sexual intercourse was an integral part of the secret world of adolescents, unknown to adults. What adults do to have children did not concern her at all. Lolitochka wielded the rod of my life with unusual energy and efficiency, as if it were an insensitive device that had nothing to do with me.”

"Submission." Michel Houellebecq

“Miriam rang the doorbell at seven o’clock in the evening.

Happy birthday, Francois... - she said from the threshold in a thin voice, and, rushing at me, kissed me on the lips, her kiss was long, sweet, our tongues and lips merged together. As I walked back into the living room with her, I noticed that she was even sexier than last time. She was wearing another black miniskirt, even shorter than the previous one, and also stockings - when she sat down on the sofa, I saw a black buckle on a garter belt, shining on a dazzling white thigh. Her shirt, also black, turned out to be completely transparent, through it you could clearly see how her breasts were agitated - I suddenly realized that my fingers remembered touching the rims of her nipples, she smiled in confusion and for a moment I felt some kind of confusion in her and doom.

Did you bring me a gift? “I tried to say it cheerfully to lighten the mood.”

No,” she answered seriously, “I didn’t find anything that I liked.”

After being silent for a while, she suddenly spread her legs; She wasn’t wearing any panties, and her skirt was so short that her pubic area was immediately exposed, shaved and defenseless.

“I’ll put it in my mouth,” she said, “you’ll like it.” Come to my sofa...

I obeyed and let her undress me. She knelt down in front of me..."

I recently started reading Aldous Huxley's novel "Blind in Gaza" and came across a veiled but obvious description sexual intercourse between the characters, this caused me a storm of delight, because the unexpectedly discovered passion in the works of the authors, key feature which is high level intellectuality and even some coldness, stiffness
and scholarship, causes an incredible emotional outburst.

Previously, I experienced similar emotions of delight and pleasant surprise when reading Hesse’s work “Narcissus and Chrysostom”. The descriptions of the hero’s sexual pleasures, beautiful in their form, the narration of his acquisition and accumulation of sexual experience, became for me a kind of revelation, an expansion of the boundaries of understanding, confirmation of my subconscious suspicion that it is possible to describe sex THIS way, and that it is beautiful and correct.

Here is the same excerpt from "Blind Man in Gaza"
==================
"Blind Man in Gaza" Huxley
...
There were mattresses for sunbathing on the roof, and on one of them Anthony and Helen lay with their heads towards the narrow shadow of the southern partition. The day was approaching noon; sunlight flowed from the sky without a single cloud, and a light breeze came, weakened and then strengthened again. The skin, engulfed in convulsive heat, seemed to become more sensitive, almost gaining higher power soaring. She seemed to absorb the nectar of life sent by the sun. And this strange, rebellious, flaming life of open space apparently penetrated through the pores, piercing and burning through the flesh, until the whole body turned into coals, and the soul itself seemed to fly out of its shell and become the fifth element, something else, some... then an extraterrestrial substance.

There are not so many facial gestures, one might say that there are very few of them in general compared to the richness of thoughts, feelings and sensations - the incomprehensible poverty of facial reflexes - even if you grimace consciously and purposefully! Still in a state of self-alienation, Anthony observed the scene of a deathbed in which he was involved both as a murderer and as an empathetic victim. Helen tirelessly turned her head from side to side, as if trying to change her position at least partially, at least a little, for one single moment to get rid of unbearable torment. Sometimes, as if imitating someone who, in a moment of despair, prayed for this cup to pass from him, she folded her hands in prayer and, raising them to her mouth, sunk her teeth into her knuckles or pressed her hand to her lips, as if wanting to muffle the cry of pain that was about to break from her lips. . Distorted face was a mask of unbearable grief. Anthony leaned towards her lips and suddenly realized that now this woman looked like the Virgin Mary at the foot of the cross in the painting by Rogier van der Weyden.

And then there was silence for a few seconds. The victim no longer turned his head on the pillow; the pleading hands became like cotton wool. The expression of dying pain gave way to inhuman, almost exalted calm. Seriousness, like a saint’s, was imprinted on his lips, and some vision of enchanting beauty was probably revealed to his closed eyes.

So they lay for quite a long time in golden sunny detachment, fed up with everything. Anthony woke up first. Touched by the silent, grateful thoughtlessness and tenderness of the contented body, he extended a caressing hand. Her skin was hot to the touch. He propped his head on his hand and opened his eyes. (c)
=============

Below the cut are several excerpts from “Narcissus and Chrysostom”. (copied from e-book)

"Narcissus and Chrysostom" Hesse
...
Here the woman smiled in response to him
surprised look, smiled very friendly, and he also began to slowly
smile. Her mouth fell on his smiling lips, they greeted with this
a tender kiss, in which Chrysostom immediately remembered that evening in
village and a little girl with braids. But the kiss was not over yet. Mouth
women lingered on his lips, continuing the game, teasing and beckoning, grabbed them
finally with force and greed, stirring the blood and exciting to the very depths, and in
in a long silent game, barely instructing the woman, she gave herself to the boy,
allowing him to search and find, igniting him and quenching his ardor. Marvelous short
the bliss of love embraced him, flared up with a golden flame, subsided and
went out. He was lying with eyes closed on a woman's chest. Neither was said
words. The woman lay quietly, gently stroking his hair, letting him come slowly
into yourself.
...

They sat down in the hay, catching their breath and enjoying the rest, both a little
tired. They stretched out, listening to the silence, feeling their foreheads drying out and
their faces gradually become cool. In pleasant fatigue, Chrysostom,
while playing, he pulled his knees up and then lowered them again. taking a deep breath into the night and
the smell of hay and without thinking about the past or the future. Slowly giving in
the charm of the fragrance and warmth of the beloved, responding from time to time to
stroking her hands, he felt blissfully how she gradually began
glow next to him, moving closer and closer to him. No, not here
neither words nor thoughts were needed. He clearly felt everything that was important and
beautiful, the power of youth and simple healthy beauty female body, his
warmth and passion, it was also clearly felt that this time she wanted to be
beloved differently than the first time, when she herself seduced him, now she was waiting
his offensive and passion. Silently passing currents through himself, he felt
happy, as a silent living fire flared up in both, making their bed
the breathing and flaming center of the entire silent night.
When he, bending over Lise’s face, began to kiss her lips in the dark,
he suddenly saw her eyes and forehead flickering in the gentle light, he was surprised
looked around and saw that the radiance, having dawned, was quickly intensifying. Then he
understood and turned around: above the edge of the black, far-stretching forest stood
moon. A white gentle light flowed marvelously over her forehead and cheeks, round neck, it
He said quietly and admiringly: “How beautiful you are!”
She smiled as if she had received a gift, he lifted her up, carefully
taking off her clothes, he helped her get rid of them, bare shoulders and chest
glowed in the cool moonlight. He followed with his eyes and lips,
carried away by the gentle shadows, admiring and kissing; as if spellbound, she quietly
lay with her eyes downcast and some solemn expression, as if
Her own beauty at that moment was revealed to her for the first time.
....

He never tired of learning from women. True, he was more attracted to girls,
very young, who had not yet had men and who knew nothing about them
he could fall passionately in love; but the girls were usually unattainable: they were
someone's lovers were timid and well watched. But he also
women willingly studied. Each one left him something: a gesture, a way of kissing,
a special game, a special way of giving or resisting. Zlatoust
agreed to everything, he was insatiable and compliant, like a child. He was
open to any temptation: that was the only reason he himself was so tempting.
...

She leaned towards him, her thirsty lips approached his,
They silently greeted each other with their first kiss. His hand is slow
wrapped around her neck. She led him through the door to her bedroom,
illuminated by tall bright candles. A meal was served on the table, they
They sat down, she carefully offered him bread and butter and some meat and poured
white wine in a beautiful bluish glass. They ate and drank from one
a bluish glass, playing with each other's hands as a test.
- Where did you come from, my wonderful bird? - she asked. “You are a warrior,
or a musician, or just a poor wanderer?
“I am everything you want,” he laughed quietly, “I am all yours.” If
want, I am a musician, and you are my sweet-sounding lute, and if I put my fingers on
I’ll play on your neck and we’ll hear angelic singing. Let's go my heart
I'm not here to eat your dishes and drink your white wine, I'm here only
because of you.
He carefully removed the white fur from her neck and freed her body from clothing.
Let the courtiers and clergy confer, let the servants scurry about, and the subtle
the crescent moon will completely emerge from behind the trees, lovers did not want to know anything
about it. For them paradise blossomed, captivating each other, absorbed in each other, they
forgotten in their fragrant night, saw their bright secrets in the darkness
places, plucked the treasured fruits with tender, grateful hands. Never before
a musician played such a lute; never before had a lute sounded under such
strong skillful fingers.
“Chrysostom,” she whispered passionately in his ear, “oh, what a wizard you are!”
From you, dear Chrysostom, I would like to have a child. And I wanted even more
would die from you. Drink me, my love, make me melt, kill me!
Happiness sang deep in her throat when he saw how she was melting and weakening
the firmness in her cold eyes. Like a gentle shiver of dying, a thrill ran through
the depths of her eyes, fading away like the silvery chill of a dying fish, matte
golden, like reflections of a magical shimmer in the depths of the river. All
happiness that only a person is capable of experiencing seemed to him
concentrated in this moment. (c)