In looking again at the literary sextings of James Joyce, I noticed the admirable level of detail in the little fantasy that he spins out about a furtive assignation in a dark stairway:
Fuck me, darling, in as many ways as your lusts will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy… Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-made fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand in his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.
From the Selected Letters Of James Joyce.
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