WRITING EXPLICIT SEX SCENES

 

Please do not eat or drink while reading the following. It might also be a good idea to visit the restroom now before continuing. Don't say I didn't warn you...

 Okay now, are we ready? Good.

 After reading the following story, I now have a greater appreciation for the hard work put forth by our beloved fanfic writers. I thank each and every one of you for all your wonderful stories.


 ***

 The writer pauses in his latest endeavor and frowns. After a moments contemplation, he saves his work and firmly closes his new fantasy G4 titanium PowerBook. After a meditative sip of his drink, he addresses those around him.

 "There are some literary subjects that have become total cliches and attempting to describe an erect penis is one.

 "I am writing a sex scene and my hero is now crossing the room while fully erect. So, basically, his stiff dick is bobbing like a demented conductors baton as he crosses the room ... however, one cannot simply write, 'He crossed the room, his stiff dick bobbing like ... ' and so forth. Well, one could if one was writing that sort of scene (and one was half plastered), but this one cannot.

 "To write anything referring to his 'turgid manhood' is also somewhat tacky. Hell, just the term 'manhood' to describe the penis strikes me as idiotic. A dick is no more one's 'manhood' than a hymen is one's 'maidenhood.' 'He strutted across the bedroom, his hard manhood pointing the way' sounds somewhat he owns a badly named seeing-eye dog. 'Sit, Hard Manhood ... good boy.'

 "Just describing the state of erection is tough. It is a simple matter of erectile flesh and hydraulics, but damnably difficult to put into terms romantic. 'His penis, reacting to his viewing her naked flesh, achieved satisfactory erection, proving good vascular response and socio/psychological adjustment." Oh, yeah ... baby, baby.

 "Terms like 'throbbing,' 'pulsing' and all other variations of this nature make it sound as if the silly thing had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around it. 'His fleshy organ quickly surged into full alertness, throbbing and pulsing and otherwise scaring the shit out of him.' When I envision something throbbing, I imagine an action somewhat akin to a bullfrogs throat sack as it croaks. THROB! Frankly, with this in mind, if my dick ever took to throbbing, I'd call a doctor. Matter of fact, I would think that any woman, faced with an actively throbbing and pulsing penis, would be somewhat concerned as well. (I don't know this for a fact, though .. Dian says that in certain situations, the sight is somewhat exciting, but the first time she experienced this situation, she looked for a stick to kill it with.)

 "And then there is the matter of size, shape, color and texture. Well, he's the hero ... I suppose it should be heroic, but somewhat shy of practical joke size. Shape, now, there's another difficulty ... as well as color and texture. Hell, let's face it ... a dick is a fairly funny looking, if not downright ugly, piece of equipment. Veins, bumps, ridges and all that; a color that never matches the sheets, much less the surrounding flesh (or any flesh, for that matter); an overall look of a plum precariously balanced on a badly whittled rod. Let's not even mention it and simply stick to the concept of a literary description of my hero approaching the heroine.

 "Okay, he's naked and fully aroused ... does he stride? Stalk? Strut? Strikes me as a situation that calls for something more than 'walk,' but something less than 'bound.' I could have the silly sod moonwalk acrossthe floor, but the resulting mental image ... damn, too late! Oh, well ..
 another round of therapy. And what does the erect penis actually do while he crosses the floor? Does it bounce against his belly, producing it's own applause? Does it wave about in some sort of vague response to his stride? Would it be feasible if I simply had him hang a towel from the damn thing and skip the entire description?
 "And what about the heroine? She is languidly reclining on the bed... and doing her level best to not bust a gut laughing, I suspect. Should she stare? Gasp? Giggle? Ogle? Chant 'boingy, boingy, boingy' as he approaches or whistle the 'Elephant Walk' in time to the swaying? This is suppose to be a moment of strong passion and deep emotions ... but a bouncing, throbbing, column of manhood slowly moonwalking forward ... damn, gotta stop that image ... strutting towards her cannot be what every woman dreams of in her fevered imagination. I want this scene to be equally stirring to both men and women, but fear that this is impossible."

 
 Our intrepid writer stares into the fire for a moment, then opens his PowerBook once more. "Screw it ... or, rather, let's not. I'll simply segue from her starting to slip out of her clothes to the morning after. Y'know, the standard story cop-out. Thanks for letting me talk this one through."