no, the gong doesn't bong when you're bad at sex.
It's a prize for bad sex writing.
I'm going to try a Freudian analysis of these
writers and try to figure how bad they are
at ...sex, as well as writing
London Evening Standard literature, with comments:
"He retained a memory of her bare pink vulva; it
was as though Father Christmas had popped up
in their midst...he forced his way inside her,
determined to accomplish what he had come for"
-Aw, he spunked already?
"Krystal moaned a little. Her head thrown back, her
nose became broad and snout-like"
-Sexy snout, there, young lass.
Nicholas Coleridge- the Adventuress:
"In seconds, the duke had lowered his trousers and boxers
and positioned himself across a leather steamer trunk"
-oh Gad, it's a gay scene. shut memory off
" 'more, more,' he cried out. 'next time you will
discipline me dressed as a nun. I have the garments
in the cupboard' "
-boring fetishes of the upper classes. yaaawn
and the winner is, Tom Wolfe, Back to Blood
-playing doctor obviously
-no, he's referring to the Moon. They're on the Moon,
"and her abdomen and began dwelling upon the nipple of her left
breast... but then the tips of her breasts became erect on their own,
the flood in her loins washed morals, despair and all other
abstract assessments away in a cloud of some sort of divine
cologne of his"
-I can't believe there's that much thinking going
on during sex, unless you're a boring author in a dull marriage
Well, who needs porn now? not this reader.