Sex is a fun thing to do. It’s like a present from nature, isn’t it? It’s like saying “Here you go, life may be a grey, sickly trudge most of the time, but you can do this. It’s brilliant. You’re fucking welcome.”
I like to write about sex gone wrong. Anti porn. Take the wind out of sex’s sails.
Here is some anti-porn.
“Your performance is that of a wounded dog. You crawl towards me like a fucking corpse on a juddering conveyor belt. To call you virile would be not only inappropriate, it would be insulting. Your sperm travels more slowly than a cow’s head on a plank. When you enter me, it is like a Giger nightmare. It’s like being penetrated by a sickly, translucent shrub. Your balls are like two wrinkled cherry tomatoes. Like a pair of sad marbles in a damp sock. You make me fucking sick.”