Erotic scenes in literature. The best erotic scenes in books

Mi Suri smirked lightly as she noticed how the hands of the poor teacher were shaking. It was evident his desire and irresistibility in time. -Wait. I can't do that. Let's leave it all for later. Please understand me. You can't. Our relations, already fragile, cannot be developed so quickly. Ki Hong, you just understand and don't interfere. - The girl sadly lowered her eyes and covered her honey eyes. "Or maybe it's worth staying? Or ..." Mi took the psychologist's hand in her palm and brought it to her lips, lightly touching the gentle fingers of the guy. "I love. Only you. But why can't I tell you this? Such simple words and so hard to pronounce. I hope .... you understand this from without explanation" Ate, grinning noticeably, she approached a little 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. Not showing your feelings and not meeting your gaze with the eyes of your loved one. "Heart. How stupid you are now and cannot make a decision."

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

Thank you. It is very important for me to know that you are nearby .... - "You still do not understand anything." The girl smirked lightly. "Ki Hong... kiss me," she looked away in embarrassment and then continued, "... if-, it's not difficult for you." She stepped back and leaned against the wall. "You're not going to refuse my request, are you?" The girl reached out and grabbed the guy's jacket, gradually pulling him closer to her. and I don’t really want to stay at home. Just cuddle up to you, just talk, stay up all night, and then meet a new day together .... damn .... something I completely became sentimental. But I can’t now leave him and I don't want to be alone."

British writer Erica Leonard James has topped the list of the highest paid writers, according to Forbes magazine. Author of the acclaimed book 50 Shades of Grey. Last year earned nearly $100 million. Probably the secret of its success is that the book is often downloaded on electronic media so that you can read an erotic novel in in public places without fear of sidelong glances. And of course in in large numbers explicit scenes! Artistic value novel has been called into question more than once, but juicy moments, capable of introducing anyone into the paint, there is more than enough! We chose the most daring "shades of gray".

1. "Do you know what I'm going to do with you now?" he adds, stroking my chin. Somewhere inside, in the dark depths, my muscles clench with sweet languor.
2. “So nice,” he whispers, and grasping my fingers tightly, he starts moving my hand up and down. His breathing becomes uneven, and when he looks at me again, I see molten lead in his eyes. - Clever girl.
3. I put a piece of omelet in my mouth, but I don't feel the taste. "Continue learning!" "I want @@@ in your mouth!" Is this also included in the program?
4. Dropping down, I swallow it 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 eyes.

5. He kisses my neck. I tilt my head to the side to give him more space. Sitting down, Christian slowly pulls my jeans and panties off my legs.
6. With a groan, I arch my back. Christian squeezes and gently pulls on his nipples, causing them to swell. I look in amazement at the lust-ridden harlot in the mirror. Oh how good!
7. Putting his hand between my legs, he pulls on 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 of expensive, well-dressed leather - and over parted lips, from which heavy breathing escapes. He sticks the whip in my mouth and I can taste it.

9. I gasp for air and squeeze my fingers lightly. Christian smirks, “I want to be in 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 bottom. With a swift movement, Christian slips his hand between my legs, his finger slowly entering me. With his other hand, he holds me tightly around the waist. I can barely contain a groan.
12. His tongue knows no mercy, persistent and domineering. It moves in circles, over and over again, without stopping. Pleasure borders on pain.
13. Strikes along the thighs, short biting 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 a climax. She suddenly breaks off. The whip also freezes.

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

"North".

“There is a green wreath in red hair, drops roll down from breasts, from delicate, pink, like cloudberries, tips - it should be cold. In the hands - geese, from geese - blood oozes, chiseled legs flow around.

There is no strength to endure. And right there, on the warm red stones, Marey warms the cool, pale pink cloudberries with her lips.

No, not warm yet, you see - still cold.

Somewhere the forests are on fire. A fire made of fragrant pine needles smokes on a red stone near a quiet lake. Pelka roasts a fat goose over a fire; fire plays on green, red; lips and hands covered in blood. He smiles a little audibly at Marey with his eyes: no need to say it out loud.

From a distance there is a crunch: a bear is rushing through the slum. It calmed down - and only the white husky grumbles angrily through a dream.

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

"Hello sadness." Françoise Sagan

“At six o'clock, returning from sailing to the islands, Cyril dragged the boat onto the sandy shore. We walked to the house through a pine grove and, in order to keep warm, started a fun fuss, ran around. He always caught up with me not far from home, with a victorious cry he rushed at me, threw me on the ground strewn with coniferous needles, twisted my arms and kissed me. Even now I still remember the taste of those breathless, fruitless kisses and how Cyril's heart was pounding at my heart in unison with the wave splashing on the sand ... One, two, three, four - the heart was beating, and the sea was quietly splashing on the sand - one, 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 quick, continuous jolts of my own blood resounded in my ears.

Julio Cortazar

“We were not in love with each other, we just made love with detached and critical sophistication and after that fell into a terrible silence, and the foam from the beer hardened in the glasses of tow and became warm, while we looked at each other and felt: this and there is time. Maga would eventually get up and start wandering around the room. More than once I saw how she admired her body in the mirror, lifting her breasts with her palms, as if on Syrian figurines, and with a slow glance seemed to stroke her skin. And I could not resist the desire to call her and feel how she was with me again after just a moment she was so alone and so in love, believing in the eternity of her body.

John Williams

“Sometimes, lazy and sleepy after love, he lay, 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 aloud or simply taking into his consciousness the words generated by these sensations and thoughts.

He dreamed of something perfect, 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 speak, constructing an opportunity hardly more attractive than their current position. They both knew, without saying it out loud, that the possibilities they were inventing and contemplating were some kind of ritual gestures for the glory of their love and the life they now had.

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

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

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

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

"Volhv". 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 due, 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 into the future. He rolled over on his stomach and indulged in love with the ghost of Alison, like an animal, without shame or reproach, like a lustful machine sprawled on the stones. And, burning the soles, he rushed into the water.

"Lolita". Vladimir Nabokov

“But my Lolitochka was a frisky girl, and when she let out that stifled laugh that I loved so much, I realized that she had previously contemplated me with playful eyes. She rolled over to my side, and her warm blond curls fell on my right collarbone. I faked waking up pretty badly. At first we were quiet. I softly stroked her hair and we kissed softly. I was somewhat blissfully embarrassed by the fact that her kiss was distinguished by a somewhat comical refinement in the sense of fluttering an inquisitive sting, from which I concluded that she had been trained in early age some little lesbian. No Charlie could teach her such tricks! As if wanting to see if I had eaten my fill and learned the lesson I promised earlier, she leaned back a little, watching me. Her cheeks flushed, her plump lower lip shone, 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 rumble 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 live in a fantastic, just created, crazy world, where everything is allowed, slowly embraced me as I began to guess what exactly was offered to me. I replied that I didn't know what game they were talking about - I didn't know what she and Charlie were playing. "You mean you never?" she began, gazing 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 a simple sexual intercourse, were either "slobbering romance" or "pathology"). "So you never," she insisted (now kneeling over me), "never did that when you were a boy?" "Never," I answered with complete truthfulness. "Fine," said Lolita, "so look how it's done." I will not, however, bore the learned reader with a detailed account of Lolita's arrogance. Suffice it to say that not a trace of chastity was seen by a warped observer in this pretty, barely formed girl who was finally corrupted by the skills of modern boys, coeducation, scams like Girl Scout fires and the like. For her, purely mechanical sexual intercourse was an integral part of the secret world of adolescents, unknown to adults. How adults act to have children, it did not interest her at all. Lolitochka wielded the staff 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. Returning with her to the living room, I noticed that she was even sexier than last time. She was wearing another black miniskirt, even shorter than the old one, and stockings too - when she sat on the sofa, I could see the black buckle on her garter belt, shining on a dazzling white thigh. Her shirt, also black, turned out to be completely transparent, through it it was clearly visible how her breasts were agitated - I suddenly realized that my fingers remember touching the rims of her nipples, she smiled bewilderedly and for a moment I felt some kind of confusion in her and doom.

Did you bring me a present? - I tried to say it cheerfully to defuse the situation.

No, - she answered seriously, - I did not find anything that I liked.

After a pause, she suddenly spread her legs; she didn't put on any panties, and the skirt was so short that her pubis was immediately exposed, shaved and defenseless.

I'll take it in your mouth, she said, you'll like it. Come to my sofa...

I obeyed and let her undress me. She knelt before me...

She reached out her hands and touched his shoulders. He touched her shoulders. Their faces approached, still slowly, sensitively and tensely, their lips touched carefully and gently, as if they were afraid to frighten off some very, very wary creature.
And then the fireballs collided and there was an explosion. Cataclysm.
They fell on a heap of tomes, which parted under their weight in all directions. Geralt buried his nose in Fringilla's cleavage, hugged her tightly and grabbed her by the knees. Pulling up her dress above the waist prevented different books, including the Lives of the Prophets, full of elaborate monograms and decorations, and De haemorrhoidibus, an interesting if controversial medical treatise. The witcher pushed the huge volumes aside and impatiently tore at the dress. Fringilla lifted her hips willingly.
Something pressed against her shoulder. She turned her head. "The Art of Obstetric Science for Women". Quickly, so as not to wake the dashing, she looked in the opposite direction. "About hot hydrogen sulfide waters". Indeed, it was getting hotter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the frontispiece open book on which her head rested. "Notes on the Imminent Death". It's not even better, she thought.
The Witcher dealt with her panties. She lifted her hips, but this time just a little, so that it looked like a casual movement, not a helping hand. She didn't know him, didn't know how he reacted to women. Doesn't he prefer those who pretend they don't know what is expected of them to those who do, and does he lose desire if panties are removed with difficulty.
However, the witcher showed no signs of losing his desire. You could say quite the opposite. Seeing that time was running out, Fringilla spread her legs greedily and wide, while turning over a pile of scrolls stacked one on one, which immediately fell on them like an avalanche. Set with embossed leather, "Mortgage Law" rested on her buttock, and decorated with brass fittings, "Codex diplomaticus" - in Geralt's brush. Geralt instantly assessed and used the situation: he slipped a huge tome where it was supposed to, Fringilla squeaked: the binding turned out to be cold. But only for a moment.
She sighed loudly, let go of the witcher's hair and grabbed the books with both hands. Left - for " descriptive geometry”, right - for “Notes on reptiles and reptiles”. Geralt, who was holding her by the hips, knocked down another pile of books with an accidental kick, but he was too engrossed to pay attention to the tomes sliding down his leg. Fringilla moaned spasmodically, rubbing her head against the pages of Notes on the Death....
The books rustled, and his nose stung from the sharp smell of packed dust.
Fringilla screamed. The witcher did not hear this, for she clenched her legs over his ears. He threw off the “History of Wars” and the “Journal of All Sciences, for the sake of happy life needed." Impatiently at war with the buttons and hooks of the upper part of the dress, he moved from south to north, involuntarily reading the inscriptions on the covers, spines, frontispieces and title pages. Under Fringilla's waist is "The Ideal Gardener". Under the arm, not far from a small, charming, invitingly protruding breast, - "About useless and obstinate soltyses." Under the elbow - "Savings, or Simple Directions how to create, share and use wealth”.
He had already read “Notes on the inevitable death”, pressed his lips to her neck, and with his hands being close to “Soltys ...”. Fringilla made a strange sound: either a cry, or a groan, or a sigh ... It was difficult to attribute it to any particular type of exclamation.
Shelves trembled, stacks of books swayed and collapsed, toppling like remnant rocks after a major earthquake. Fringilla called out again. This time the first edition of "De larvis scenicis et figuris comicis" fell with a roar - the true White crow, behind it collapsed the "List of General Commands for the Cavalry", pulling after it the "Heraldry" of John of Attreya, decorated with charming engravings. The witcher groaned, knocking down new volumes with a kick of his outstretched leg. Fringilla shouted again, loudly and drawlingly, knocking down with her heel “Reflections or meditations for all the days of the whole year”, an interesting anonymous work, which, no one knows how, ended up on Geralt’s back. Geralt trembled and read it over Fringilla's shoulders, involuntarily recognizing that "Remarks ..." were written by Dr. Albertus Rivus, published by the Cintrian Academy, and printed by the master printer Johann Froben Jr. in the second year of the reign of His Majesty King Corbett.
The silence that reigned was broken only by the rustle of slipping books and turning pages.
What to do, thought Fringilla, with lazy movements of her hand touching Geralt's side and the hard corner of Meditations on the Nature of Things. - Suggest yourself? Or wait until he offers? If only I didn’t think that I was timid ... or immodest ...
And how to behave if he offers?
"Let's go and look for some bed," suggested the witcher, a bit hoarsely. - You can not treat books - a source of knowledge - so ugly.

I have read enough manuals for writing bed scenes from the most different authors to understand - they are all cunning, not giving out the main secret of the success of the bed scene. Basically, such articles describe the technique of the process, analyze the main postures 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, contains a direct mention of male and female reproductive organs and can cause a strong negative reaction. Be careful! 18+

Indeed, using one of these guides, you can write a completely acceptable bed scene for yourself, but mmm ... a monkey, if you beat it for a long time, you can also “teach” to type letters in 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 manuals that are detailed and thorough, with many examples and good technique, help? What are experienced authors hiding 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 incessant bed scene of a rating that way ... NC-21. But what turned out to be more surprising for me personally, when I sat down to re-read the resulting “masterpiece”, none of these scenes was repeated. Each was unique, had its own emotional coloring and conveyed a very specific sensual charge to the reader: from the most tender romance to dirty lustful passion, from the illumination of timid hope to brutal violence, from the euphoria of long-awaited possession that eclipses all other feelings to the tart bitterness of an incest relationship.

This porn novel, which was later destroyed (yes, authors are sometimes ashamed of what they wrote, I am no exception), opened the key to understanding the main secret of the success of the bed scene, which both beginners and venerable authors can use. But before I name it, I would like to conduct a little experiment with you.

Close your eyes and mentally imagine the following picture: you are at the computer, in headphones, eagerly reading some interesting story, and then someone from home starts to disturb you. Your emotions are understandable. You are distracted, and it is unpleasant. But do you feel the touch? No, you definitely understand that they are trying to tear you away from interesting lesson that you are being pulled or shaken, but ... do you yourself feel the touch of your loved one? Can you remember later that mother's hands were a little damp because she had finished washing the dishes before that? Or that my brother's fingers were cold, because. did he come in 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 you were touched not by a relative, but by a beloved person. Immediately, goosebumps will run through the body, breathing will get a little off, the abdominal muscles can get close, there will be a feeling of awkwardness or pleasant joy. In any case, you will react differently than from the touch of a relative.

And it will be a completely different situation when you are touched by a family member whom you fear or hate. Well, umm...something like a stepfather, a mother-in-law or a very angry grandmother. Involuntarily, you will try to get away from this touch, move away as much as possible, move away. Your reaction will be sharper. Your back muscles will tense up, your lips will close together, you will frown, and you will start drumming your fingers on the countertop in annoyance.

This, in my understanding, is master key to success. The reader, for the most part, sits down to read an erotic story in order to plunge into the atmosphere, feel the emotions of the protagonist, as if ... mmm ... live his life. And the more detailed and believable these emotions are conveyed, the more delighted he is, as a rule,. If the situation was reversed, I believe instead of darkness erotic stories readers would study an atlas of anatomy.

This is also the biggest failure, when, guided by all sorts of manuals and perfectly describing the sequence of actions required from the bed scene (lay down on the bed, spread your legs, insert a penis, etc.), the author behind all this mechanical work completely forgets about the characters of his characters. In this case, we have a whole piece of text torn out of the general context of the work - a work in which before that readers experienced the slightest shades of feelings of the main characters, reveled in their touching affection or depriving the mind burning desire. And then… poof! And instead of sweet, they finally got something indigestible as an aftertaste.

Now, summing up all the above, I will give a few recommendations taken from own experience, relying on which, any author, even a beginner, in my opinion, will be able to cope with writing a bed scene:

1. Be mindful of feelings

Feelings/emotions/attitude of the character largely depend on:

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

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

From gnawing problems (if the hero has someone died or something went wrong somewhere, or if the burden of guilt or responsibility fell on the hero, then mmm ... most likely he will be so absorbed by his internal problems and troubles that will cease to pay attention to surrounding reality, will fall into apathy and perceive the sexual adventure without due enthusiasm),

From external circumstances (if a chase is sent after the characters and any hour and any minute may well be the last time spent together for them, then, despite the inevitable discomfort and accumulated fatigue, all the feelings of the characters will be aggravated 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, candlelight dinner, a bath with rose petals and champagne, relaxed languor and other romantic things will lose their relevance).

Therefore, do not rush and prescribe a delightfully tender and sensual bed scene immediately after the character's entire family has died. Sad emotions will not disappear so quickly. Most likely, they will become dull and pass through the entire bed stage light a touch of bitterness and regret, an attempt to forget, to find support in a partner.

2. Don't cheat on your heroes

Each hero has his own (ideally unique) character, tastes and preferences, line of conduct, temperament, which will certainly leave their mark on his behavior in bed. If the character of 3/4 of the work was prescribed as frivolous, eccentric, caustic and sharp-tongued, then in the end, when the moment of the sex scene has come, it is very regrettable to see how he turns into an automaton for introducing / withdrawing a penis from the female body.

Where did all the sarcasm and insolence go? Where did the good trolling go? All 3/4 of the work, the partner only dreamed that this character "someday shut up, because his jokes ...", and now at a moment when even normal people from nervous tension they involuntarily begin to giggle, our eccentric, caustic character obediently fulfills the obligatory program read out by the author in the relevant recommendations.

It's funny to you? I don't. Let me give you a real bestseller as an example. foreign literature- the book "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts, where jade rods and caves of voluptuousness were used to describe the bed scene, which, in my opinion, did not fit well with the main character - a criminal who escaped from an Australian prison, a rebel and a mafia.

3. Track the atmosphere of the scene

Atmosphere is a rather complex thing, which can be too tough for even experienced authors. On the one hand, everything affects the atmosphere (place, lighting, previous events, the mood of the characters, etc.), on the other hand, the atmosphere lives as if by itself, setting a certain impetus for the development of certain events. And it's not so much about environment, how much in the mood she creates - Attention! - the reader.

This mood can change back and forth several times in one bed scene. But there are two general cases: the atmosphere is either subject to the author and he changes/creates it purposefully, or the atmosphere exists by itself, apart from the author.

What are the standard schemes for changing moods in the bed scene?

Gradually pumped, growing (as a rule, most authors use it. Why? It is very convenient and technical to describe all emotions in increasing order: 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),

Ring, with a return to the starting point (a classic example, when for the main characters the bed scene occurs for the first time and due to lack of experience or some unresolved interpersonal conflicts, at some point the matter stops, after which the heroes have to somehow defuse the atmosphere, calm each other and start all over again),

Descending (when it comes to violence in bed, which one of the partners did not count on. As it were ... everything seemed to start well (candles, flowers, etc.), but when it came directly to the introduction of the penis, the partner felt sick , or she changed her mind, or the partner offended her with some of his sharp remarks, or he turned out to be a pervert, etc.).

I would also like to point out that there is a big difference between how the bed scene appears in the author's head, and how he put 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, one can judge from them whether the original author's message has reached the reader or not.

4. Don't play hide and seek with time

Time is very important point when writing a bed scene.

So, for example, if we have a bed lined in silk, soft lighting, there is no need to get up after four hours, then the action can unfold before the reader gradually: a long prelude, 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, need and importance for a woman, etc.

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

But in addition to the structural logic responsible for the appropriateness of the speed of unfolding the bed scene chosen by the author in front of the reader's gaze, rhythm is also important. The manner of writing, speech patterns and construction of sentences must - no, they simply must! - convey the smoothness or swiftness of the temporal process. Otherwise, the picture in the author’s head, his idea, will be transmitted to the reader in a highly distorted form: the author’s entire scene will fly by in seconds, and the reader will have to shovel through a dozen pages.

5. Do not confuse the physical and 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, m? I think that quite often, because this story is one of the most popular. But only in works true masters In this storyline, the emotions of the victim and the physical pleasure of the process are somehow separated.

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

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

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

Third, greatest pleasure From sex, a person is delivered by his brain, which enhances physical pleasure by tens and hundreds of times.

The brain plays the role of a resonant circuit: the reactions from some physical influences multiply, and from others it nullifies, provoking 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 that comes to it and hangs out the necessary flags - friend/foe, pleasant/unpleasant.

However, in addition to the brain, a person still 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. Experienced violence 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 ... how does the soul feel? And what conclusions does the brain draw from this? Where then does the former personality disappear? All these questions cannot be answered by basing human response on mere physical pleasure. How are we different from animals?

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

For example, a duchess loves her husband's trusted servant. With closeness to 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 closeness with the servant, the spiritual and physiological aspects will be at their best, and the social will go into minus.

When taking into account the nuances described above and reflecting them in bed scenes with a husband and a servant, you can get two completely different in sensuality and intensity bed scenes.

6. Know the measure

Not everything and not always need to be written up to the smallest details. Sometimes such detailing of the work only harms.

Let me give you an example: “He peered into her green eyes for a long time, the colors of the first snowdrops that had just broken through after winter, internally melting from how softly they embraced the silk with a V-neck pink dress her flat girlish breasts, and two protruding nipple peas, which so enticingly shone through the thin fabric, only kindled the awakened desire, languishing with bliss, spreading in the lower abdomen.

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

In essence, it doesn’t, 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 this moment information?

The same thing happens when trying to paint a bed scene, reaching every smallest step and describing it in every detail. So page after page stretches, and the heroes do not even reach the direct caresses of the crotch. It’s good when the general mood is not lost at the same time and the author correctly pumps up the atmosphere. But more often than not, 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 characters at the end.

Meanwhile, the proposals grow and swell, adding more and more new details to the interior, the properties of fabrics, important facts from the biography of heroes, strategic plans for palace coup, the number of servants with their occupation and specialization, the most probable causes of broken carriage rims, the geography of the kingdom, etc.

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

7. Watch out for epithets

In this case, there are two nuances.

The first is the definition of 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 get confused in such an alternative anatomy and, not understanding the great artistic intent the author, will leave him offended.

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

As an example, if we are talking about an ascending atmosphere, then you should start with timid touches of lips, a trembling heart (or eyelashes), delicate velvet skin, smoothly moving on to a rebellious body, passionate curves, sensual kisses, and from them to ragged, out of breath , rhythmic pushes, lips bitten into blood, etc.

So, playing with the alternation of temperature coloring of epithets, you can create any atmosphere. At the same time, the temperature of 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 not right.

8. Be mindful of the setting

At the same time, I mean not only the physical environment as a direct scene of action: walls, table, chair, bed - without which any work will inevitably lose part of its attractiveness, but also social.

It just so happened that not a single person becomes a person in isolation from society, therefore, always and everywhere there will be extraneous views, rumors, gossip, whispering. Typical, in my opinion, is a mistake when the author introduces a character with bright hallmarks, sharply distinguishing it from the general background, but at the same time forgetting to give a reaction to it from society.

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

I will give as an example a hotel near the main highway. The partitions there, most likely, will be wooden, the audibility is good, the travelers are tired, and now one secluded couple wakes up the neighbors in the middle of the night with voluptuous yells. In our world, we knock such neighbors on the battery or call the police. So why is everyone in the fictional world so tolerant and solidary?

My explanation sounds something like this: the authors of erotic stories bother so much with the rising atmosphere that sometimes they are simply afraid to interrupt it to panic colic in the stomach with a polite knock on the door, say, a mountain troll asking them to squeeze each other a little quieter, otherwise he here the 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 readers, they blush, turn pale, turn to stone and other “eyes” - but hmm ... where is the highlight?

But it is she who raises the text from the craft (the author knows how to write bed scenes, and we see it) to a creative breakthrough (the bed scenes written by the author are not forgotten, you want to return to them again and again), when the required number of already written bed scenes, while the author “filled his hand”, turned into a quality.

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

So one little touch - one seemingly insignificant detail - could evoke a whole storm of feelings in my soul. I still keep this scene in my head and, frankly, 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 the bed scene, you can express a lot of the most different feelings and situations: mutual cooling off to 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, if only he had, if only he warmed with his warmth, humiliation and submission , fear of one to another, etc.

A real master is able to describe equally well both everyday sex and that special night that can happen 1-2 times in a life - no more. In this case, domestic fucking will look like domestic fucking, and that very unique night - that very unique night. Because with the help of proximity, when human souls are exposed in the same way as bodies, you can dot all the “and”, because in such a situation the character has nowhere to hide from himself. And even if he plays here, skillfully portraying passion, this is also visible and quite reflected in the letter by the author.

So in a good way the main idea should be defined in advance. “What is to be shown by this intimacy?” - this is the question that you should ask yourself before writing another bed scene.

10. Believe in yourself

Amazing, right? You need to believe in yourself. After all, it often happens that, after reading a story, we note to ourselves: “This is a bed scene!”, “Well, this author is talented”, “I will never be able to write anything like this ...”, etc. . Of course, at first it always happens that, having exhausted 2-3 sentences out of ourselves in 1.5-2 hours, we give up and wave our hand at the text. Moreover, there are a lot of other stories around, where everything is described better, and more beautiful, and sexier ... well, in general, it cannot be compared with our three sentences.

And now it's time to remember point number 1 and the preface. Your story will be good not so much beautiful words or well-formed phrases (words and letters - they are the same for everyone), but by your feelings, i.e. by what you and only you can put on paper, with your experience, with your experiences, with your attitude to life.

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

Because feelings do not become obsolete and never disappear without a trace. And, if your heroes are asking for paper, 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: both feelings, and heroes, and you yourself at this age.

In conclusion, I want to say that all the above recommendations are purely advisory in nature. They helped me write better. Hope it helps you too.