I appreciate god sex, value reading great sex scenes, relish writing the nitty-gritty of sexual encounters, and I have in many of my works. In my newest novel, Painting Away Regrets, there are three sex scenes that evoke all the senses and eight years later (although the novel was published December 2011, I completed it eight years ago) I still find these scenes so erotic, so realized, they are scandalous, a turn-on for even the most frigid person.
There is no universal template about what constitutes good sex, for good sex, like food is specific to the individual and her palate. Like food, sex is about the senses --the tangy taste of his mouth in mine, the satin texture of his smooth firm back, the pungent rice-wine aroma secreted between his thighs, the grunt and chuckle when my tongue rises his manhood and the firm clasp of his hands on my ankles as he raises them to his shoulders. The sudden lack of air in the room, in my throat, and the waves building, mountainous as our bodies join and collide and try to devour much more than it can it can safely digest, but all that it can enjoy. Nibble! Sample! Gobble! Stuff! Gorge! Consume! Quench! Satiate!
In Painting Away Regrets, Christine, the protagonist, is driven by sex, not just the physical connection, but also the word-play and dance of it, the lure and fantasy, the enacting and creating of scenes that allow her to experience sex in a whole new way each time. So when she goes to an artist colony, allegedly to think and clear her mind of husband and children, but runs into an old flame from law school, Christine does not refrain, but rushes head long into an affair. As a visual artist, re-investing in artistic pursuits, she body paints her lover as a come-0n before she turns him out.
The first sex scene occurs on page 24 of the novel, and is all imagined, fantasy, which readers only realize at the very end, that scene is then juxtaposed with her first sexual arousal then encounter with, Donald, the man who becomes her husband, sex the glue that keeps them together for fifteen years. Each scene is different, not just in location, but also the element that gives it humph, on the kitchen counter, the bubble bath, the body paint, the dance scene, etc.
I suspect when a writer composes a sex scene she is writing about what she has experienced or would like to experience or sexual exploits that she has heard about. My scenes are always a combination. If it is simple about a past experience, then it reads flat and does not feel authentic. An element of the sex scene must not have happened as I am depicting it. There must be a space of imagined --this has to be an integral part of the scene for me to enjoy writing it. This is certainly the case in Painting Away Regrets, none of the numerous sex scenes happened as depicted, and in this work, more so that others I am more explicit and rendered more graphic details.
It is like a good Jamaican dish, you will taste the thyme, pimento and coconut milk flavoring, but you will also see tiny thyme branches, small, round black pimento seeds and the creamy sweetness of the coconut milk as it rises oily to the top. I invite you to partake of this meal, savor each drop, bite by small bite, without regrets, imprinting each taste to memory.
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