Or are you just happy to see me?

Well as it is my first week back I thought I would post some titillating material for you all to peruse during the weekend while I spend my hours sitting in the park reading freakin' Antigone for the 11th time ( "AND IT KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER EVERY TIME I SEE IT"). As they say, those who can't manage to have a summer fling, imagine one.

A "friend" of mine asked me to edit his novel this summer during my break, which involves a gratuitous sex scene. It is truly a precious gem of over the top erotica. I shall give you some highlights:

Bending her back and then curving herself as if to feel every inch of his member separately, and demonstrating to him the ultimate female pride in the suppleness of her spine.

Allowing her to pass a fingernail over his nipple, he thought he was the happiest and most fortunate man in the world.

Suddenly he had an orgasm...It was like a galaxy coming apart from the core outward, parts and chucking and globules of trillions of stars streaming in flaming swaths in all directions, his own surprised roar accompanying the explosion.

So I'm reading this at my usual coffee hang out desperately trying to repress my giggling and blushing and failing miserably. Bland Lawyer asked me to read the section out loud, which I did, and he bet me I couldn't write a better sex scene in two days.

Far be it from me to suggest that writing a sex scene is easy. It's one of the most difficult things to do-to balance being provocative and arousing without venturing into the cliche and ridiculous. I had several fits and starts (actually I discovered two "sex" scenes I had written for stories that actually I could have used, but I decided to take the two day challenge seriously).

I ended up developing two scenes; one scene is serious, and the other is satiric. I give you the satiric:

"He pressed his loins into her. Did you hear that?"
"You mean like pork loins?"
"No, like his throbbing love stick, his potent spear of virility."
"You're kidding."
"Is this the face of a woman who is kidding?"

She gave a lopsided smile in spite of her attempts to seem gravely serious. She handed him the sheaf of papers. After a brief examination he concluded, "You are not,indeed, kidding."

She resumed reading but a few minutes later threw down the manuscript and covered her blushing cheeks, a blush that was rapidly spreading down to her breasts. "I feel violated. I feel like I need to scrub my brain with a brillo pad. I need some kind of literary rape counseling type of thing."

He picked her up off the couch with ease and carried her to the bed. "Despite his sinewy appearance," he said, "her lover was really quite powerful. She knew she could not resist him, her lord and master." He dropped her on the bed, watching her bounce.

"But," she continued, "it was really he who could not resist her. He had tried to be a good and honorable man, but she was too bewitching-her eyes too moist, her bosom too heaving, her loins too fruitful-to resist."

Her hands were clasped around his neck. He took one and gently twisted it behind her back. She involuntarily arched against him. He began, with deliberate slowness, to unbutton her blouse, "He took his time undressing her, allowing her to feel the erotic nature of her powerlessness. His fingers tracing down from buttonhole to buttonhole."

She managed, somehow, to get an earlobe in her mouth. He released her hand which found its way under his shirt. "In clothes he looked average. Women rarely guessed at the chiseled beauty that lay beneath his shirt. He was all sleek muscle, like a greyhound, with the pounding endurance to match."

He pulled and fussed with her bra. Finally, the clasp gave. "He released her breasts."

"Released? What are they? Two wild animals?"

"He released her breasts which were soft and white, like two small rabbits out of a warren."

He gently pushed her back unto the bed. She took in the smell of him: good tobacco and sunshine. "He had the healthy brown of freshly baked cookies."

"And she the marble opalescence of the moon."

"Oh," she moaned as his hand traced down between her breasts, "How cliche."

He tongued her bellybutton, while sliding her panties down her legs. He kissed the inside of her knees. "He knew the art of the slow caress, the power of gentle fingertips against sensitive flesh He knew every secret pleasure point, every crevice of ecstasy no matter how forbidden." He blew under arm, the breathe alone making her giggle.

"He could wait no longer. He finally revealed his golden manhood to her."

"Could we thrown in some more adjectives there?"

"He revealed his throbbing golden rod of engorged manhood."

He pressed her into the bed. "He entered her slowly so that she could appreciate the full length of his inflamed scepter of passion. She trembled and shook beneath him like an abandoned house on a fault line. She quivered, like a finely tuned harp string, with pleasure."

She pushed him onto his back. "She arched so he could admire her perfect breasts, while feeling himself sink deeper into her bottomless love chamber."

Then they were silent. He pulled. She pushed. He gripped. She trembled. He tensed. She released. He exhaled. She withdrew.

"Later, as she was lying with her head on his manly but hairless chest, she thought that fulfilling him was the greatest goal of her life. She contemplated getting him a beer and turning on the TV."

"And he, being a man worthy of the devotion of such a beautiful and brilliant woman, refused to let her move. Satisfied, they both drifted into sleep."

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