Tell me about the hottest sex scene in a book

post feet

and story of the eye

does anyone agree with me that this is the most ridiculous fetish and deserving of ridicule

When Dolly sits in Humbert's lap and gets him to jizz in his pants.

POST RUDOLF.JPG

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in the picture i posted she was fully clothed. i think that was the point.

anyway, back to OP's question:

And all the while, in amazement, Catherine Gratitude looked on, her lips forming the question, but never uttering it. At length, tentatively, she touched his arm.

"Werther?"

His hands flew to his head. He roared in his mindless pain.

"Oh, Werther!"

"Ah! They destroy me! They destroy my ideals!"

He was weeping when he turned to bury his face in her hair.

"Werther!" She kissed his cold cheek. She stroked his shaking back. And she led him from the ruins of his room and down the passage to her own apartment.

"Why should I strive to set up standards," he sobbed, "when all about me they seek to pull them down. It would be better to be a villain!"

But he was quiescent; he allowed himself to be seated upon her bed; he felt suddenly drained. He sighed. "They hate innocence. They would see it gone forever from this globe."

She gripped his hand. She stroked it. "No, Werther. They meant no harm. I saw no harm."

"They would corrupt you. I must keep you safe."

Her lips touched his and his body came alive again. Her fingers touched his skin. He gasped.

"I must keep you safe."

In a dream, he took her in his arms. Her lips parted, their tongues met. Her young breasts pressed against him — and for perhaps the first time in his life Werther understood the meaning of physical joy. His blood began to dance to the rhythm of a sprightlier heart. And why should he not take what they would take in his position? He placed a hand upon a pulsing thigh. If cynicism called the tune, then he would show them he could pace as pretty a measure as any. His kisses became passionate, and passionately were they returned.

"Catherine!"

A motion of a power ring and their clothes were gone, the bed hangings drawn.

And your auditor, not being of that modern school which salaciously seeks to share the secrets of others' passions (secrets familiar, one might add, to the great majority of us), retires from this scene.

what's a power ring and how does it remove clothes?

>And your auditor, not being of that modern school which salaciously seeks to share the secrets of others' passions (secrets familiar, one might add, to the great majority of us), retires from this scene.
based

Agreed

Moorcock wrote a bunch of stories and some books set at The End of Time, when the human population has become so jaded they've come all the way around to being innocent again. a bunch of decayed, ancient cities enable anyone wearing a power ring to create whatever they want, and the denizens use them to make entertainments for each other. they can change their shape, gender, appearance, anything they want - pretty much the only thing they can't do is travel back in time safely.

because of where they are temporally, they get a lot of time travelers coming to see the end of the universe and finding they can't go backwards in time (due to a natural law that protects history from paradox). the stories are pretty cool, and "Elric at the End of Time" is pretty funny.

the people at the end of time assume archetypal characters... Werther de Gothe is the ultimate poetic goth, and one of his friends uses this pose to play an amazing trick on him.

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Name of the Rose

fuck you faggot

*Freezes time*
*Puts you on street corner*
*Pulls down pants*
*Shoves broom up your arse*

L'histoire de l'œil

Sounds kinky. Do you have a collection of your various erotic passages?

She's silent for a bit, making him wait. At last, eyes holding his, she smiles, the component of evil in it she has found he needs taking care of itself as usual: "Yes. . . . Many of them did become my bridegrooms that day," she whispers, flexing the bright cane. There seems to be a winter wind in the room. Her image threatens to shake apart into separate flakes of snow. He loves to listen to her speak, hers is the voice that found him from the broken rooms of the Flemish villages, he knows, he can tell from the accent, the girls who grew old in the Low Countries, whose voices went corrupted from young to old, gay to indifferent, as that war drew out, season into ever more bitter season. ... "I took their brown Spanish bodies to mine. They were the color of the dust, and the twilight, and of meats roasted to a perfect texture . . . most of them were so very young. A summer day, a day of love: one of the most poignant I ever knew. Thank you. You shall have your pain tonight."

It's a part of her routine she can enjoy, at least. Though she has never read any classic British pornography, she does feel herself, sure as a fish, well in the local mainstream. Six on the buttocks, six more across the nipples. Whack where's that Gourd Surprise now? Eh? She likes the way the blood leaps to cross last night's welts. Often it's all she can do to keep from moaning herself at each of his grunts of pain, two voices in a dissonance which would be much less accidental than it sounded. . . . Some nights she's gagged him with a ceremonial sash, bound him with a gold-tasseled fourragère or his own Sam Browne. But tonight he lies humped on the floor at her feet, his withered ass elevated for the cane, bound by nothing but his need for pain, for something real, something pure. They have taken him so far from his simple nerves. They have stuffed paper illusions and military euphemisms between him and this truth, this rare decency, this moment at her scrupulous feet... no it's not guilt here, not so much as amazement—that he could have listened to so many years of ministers, scientists, doctors each with his specialized lies to tell, when she was here all the time, sure in her ownership of his failing body, his true body: undisguised by uniform, uncluttered by drugs to keep from him her communiques of vertigo, nausea and pain. . . . Above all, pain. The clearest poetry, the endearment of greatest worth. . . .

He struggles to his knees to kiss the instrument. She stands over him now, legs astride, pelvis cocked forward, fur cape held apart on her hips. He dares to gaze up at her cunt, that fearful vortex. Her pubic hair has been dyed black for the occasion. He sighs, and lets escape a small shameful groan.

"Ah . . . yes, I know." She laughs. "Poor mortal Brigadier, I know. It is my last mystery," stroking with fingernails her labia, "you cannot ask a woman to reveal her last mystery, now, can you?"
"Please ..."
"No. Not tonight. Kneel here and take what I give you."

it depends on the image

SSS and her gf (and possible their orbiters) lurk Yea Forums and will hit a copyright claim against any pics of them they see (even if they dont actually own the pic)

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>(and possible their orbiters) lurk Yea Forums and will hit a copyright claim against any pics of them they see

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hnng mommy

All sex scenes in books are cringeworthy garbage

gravity rainbow/ shit eating scene and 12 year old Bianca fucked

Lolita/ Humbert on the couch with Lolita on his lap

Kafka on the shore/ mom son sleep walking incest

2666/ spying on the baroness while she get fucked by a huge cock

platform/ whole book is one big sex scene

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wtf where did the onions face even come from?

that scene in the woods with the two girls in lolita, it's not much but the fantasy is pretty hot desu

All the sex scenes from American Psycho were pretty exciting to read.

I recently realized onion faces are exactly the face a normal adult make to a baby to make it laugh. I have no idea what to do with that realization. Maybe soiboi think everything is secretly their child?

My diary desu

>mom son sleep walking incest
Explain

the character is in his bed ready to go to sleep if i remember correctly and in comes his mom that hes not sure is his mom, who then sleep walking, mounts him while he then proceeds to cum inside her

It’s a meme. Like that Japanese O-face thing, aoogah or w/e

>women