It is not easy to write a sexual scene that isn’t a little cheesy. In truth, it’s what will always keep porn out of the true art-form class no matter what , seriously how many different ways can you put two things together before you are hitting redundancy?
This time has come round again for the bad sex award put out by the literary review. In the article by Zeljka Marosevic for MobyLives we see some of the sadly comic samples from the past. I guess we can take the idea away that 1. it’s an award and 2. It’s happened to some of the best of them.
Love Begins in Winter by Simon Van Booy (Beautiful Books)
My mouth lingered on hers; I tasted her. I felt for her tongue with mine. I felt the blood surging through my body. We pressed against one another.
She gripped my arms. Her nails tore into me. Soon we both were burning. Sweat pooled in the ridge of my back as I moved like a tide determined to crash against those ancient rocks.
Then – a moment before – inside, I kept very still. Our bodies moved of their own accord. Hannah’s body was swallowing, digesting all that was mine to give. For those final moments, we existed seamlessly – all memory negated by a desire that both belonged to us and controlled us.
After, we kept very still, like the only two roots of the forest.
It’s that time of year again for sweating profusely and sniggering: the Bad Sex Award is back | MobyLives.
“Sex Life of Robots” | Michael Sullivan (Photo credit: ceslava.com)
There is a book, perhaps you’ve
heard of it, that says if you are having trouble in your marriage
You should have sex everyday for 30 days. Without exception. You can’t be to busy, or to tired or to I’m thinking of divorcing this scumbag so I don’t want to fuck him…none of those things is an excuse. Everyday. Thirty days.
Now in those 30 days of sex bootcamp, there has to be some days where the sex is phenomenal; quivering , undulating flesh, orgasms that make you forget your own middle name, and that remind you why you married this person.
Contradictory to that are other days. Days when sex with this man or woman make you feel like…well like you are being forced to have sex everyday. Days when all you want to do is watch Himym and finally ,for the love of God ,know who this woman is! And the sex is , kind of, blah.
I said that, and I’m apologizing in advance, because that is what I’m doing with my blog. Follow through is NOT my strong suit. If it were, you would hear people say things like ” did you read Brie Stoll’s last book?” Because that’s what I was born to do.
So for 30 days I’ll write. Sick, well, hung over, sad, happy, busy ,broke or whatever , I will write.
Some days you may read and think, that was good. Somedays you may read and think that’s awesome. Somedays you may read and think, not even close. That’s what the apology earlier was for.
I promise to try to bring you to a literary orgasm everyday . There will be days when you are already looking for the remote and wondering if there’s a nice juicy nurse Betty on somewhere. But I promise to do my level best to have as many days possible of “yes, yes, right there, oh, oh…I love you”… In the literary sense.