Favourite sex scenes from literature #6
Susanne Moore, In the Cut
I pushed aside my pillows and turned onto my stomach. My feet hung off the end of the bed, my toes hooked over the edge. The way I do. And through my cotton nightgown, I put two fingers of my right hand on my clitoris and thought of him. Standing in a room, coming toward me, watching me undress.… (It must always be through a nightgown or a pair of underpants. I’ve wondered if this is because of the greater friction. Surely that must be part of it, but there is something more, perhaps the thrill that first came to me as a small girl, pressing my fingers against myself, the cloth interceding between my fingers and my vagina, interceding between shame and pleasure).…
One Sunday morning in boarding school I found my roommate lying on her back on the tile floor of the shower stall. Her legs … were splayed on either side of the spigots, the water cascading between her slack muscular thighs.… She remains to this day the only woman I’ve ever known who spoke freely of her own masturbation. She urged me to try it. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I had found my own way. Women will talk about anything— sexual jealousy, dishonor, the lovely advantages of eating pussy or sucking cock— but they will not tell you about fucking themselves.
I pushed aside my pillows and turned onto my stomach. My feet hung off the end of the bed, my toes hooked over the edge. The way I do. And through my cotton nightgown, I put two fingers of my right hand on my clitoris and thought of him. Standing in a room, coming toward me, watching me undress.… (It must always be through a nightgown or a pair of underpants. I’ve wondered if this is because of the greater friction. Surely that must be part of it, but there is something more, perhaps the thrill that first came to me as a small girl, pressing my fingers against myself, the cloth interceding between my fingers and my vagina, interceding between shame and pleasure).…
One Sunday morning in boarding school I found my roommate lying on her back on the tile floor of the shower stall. Her legs … were splayed on either side of the spigots, the water cascading between her slack muscular thighs.… She remains to this day the only woman I’ve ever known who spoke freely of her own masturbation. She urged me to try it. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I had found my own way. Women will talk about anything— sexual jealousy, dishonor, the lovely advantages of eating pussy or sucking cock— but they will not tell you about fucking themselves.
5 年 前
