Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Delta of Venus (1977)

  As soon as he got home that day he took out this postcard and breathed on it. He imagined he was seeing the body of the governess, her plump, full breast. Then with a pencil he drew a tiny mole between the legs. By then he was thoroughly aroused and wanted to see the governess naked at all cost. But in the midst of the Basque’s large family, they had to be cautious. There was always someone on the stairs, someone in every room. The next day during their walk she gave him a handkerchief. He went to his room, threw himself on the bed and covered his mouth with the handkerchief. He could smell the odor of her body on it. She had been holding it in her hand on a hot day and it had received some of her perspiration. The odor was so vivid and affected him so much that for the second time he knew what it was to feel a turmoil between his legs. He saw that he had an erection, which until now had happened only in dreams. The next day she gave him something wrapped up in paper. He slipped it in his pocket and after their walk went straight to his room, where he opened the package. It contained flesh-tinted panties, with lace edging. She had worn them. They, too, smelled of her body. The boy buried his face in them and experienced the wildest pleasure. He imagined himself taking the panties off her body. The feeling was so vivid that he had an erection. He began to touch himself as he continued to kiss the panties. Then he rubbed his penis with them. The touch of the silk entranced him. It seemed to him that he was touching her flesh, perhaps the very place where he imagined she had the little mole. Suddenly he had an ejaculation, his first, in a spasm of joy that sent him rolling over the bed. The next day she gave him another package. It contained a brassiere. He repeated the ceremony. He wondered what else she could give him that would stir him to such pleasure. This time it was a big package. His sister’s curiosity was aroused. “It’s only books,” said the governess, “nothing of any interest to you.”

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Please tell Irene I said hello.” “I will.” Rusty was willing to bet the pleasant maid or the good hairdresser would prefer cash, but a gift was better than nothing. “Rusty, darling,” Irene said, handing her four compacts and two Ronsons. “Could you gift-wrap these for Mrs. Delaney? Red ribbon.” Red ribbon was a code for Christmas, not Hanukkah, which would be blue ribbon. Rusty knew Mrs. Delaney’s son, a good-looking guy who worked at the branch bank on Elmora Avenue. He always flirted with her. Sometimes she flirted back, just to keep up her skills, though she knew he was married with four children. Not to mention Catholic. SteveA few blocks down East Jersey Street from the Martin Building, where Steve Osner’s father had his dental office and you could get a great-tasting burger at Three Brothers Luncheonette, Steve was shooting baskets at the YMHA with his best buddy, Phil Stein, both of them seniors at Thomas Jefferson High. They’d been born two weeks apart at Elizabeth General Hospital and bar mitzvahed a week apart at Temple B’nai Israel, across the street from the Y. A couple of regulars were playing with them in a pickup game, and one of them must have brought Mason McKittrick. He seemed like a nice enough kid, not that Steve knew him well, since he was just a junior, but he had good moves and a great hook. “You should go out for the team next year,” Steve told him. “Bet you could make varsity.” “I work after school,” Mason said, “at Edison Lanes—not much time for practice.” “You set up pins?” “Yeah, that and other stuff when it gets busy.” “I’ll look for you next time we go bowling.” “You in a league?” “No, just bowl for fun.” Mason nodded. In the locker room, Steve asked Phil, “You want to grab a burger at Three Brothers? I’m starving.” “Nah. My mother’s probably got dinner in the oven.” “Okay, but come over later.” “You have a plan?” “Don’t tell me you forgot already?” “Remind me.” “My sister’s party.” “We’re going to your sister’s party?” Steve swatted him with his damp towel. “I have to chaperone. My mother thinks if I’m around there won’t be any trouble. What a joke! Remember ninth grade? That’s the first time I copped a feel.” “You were always ahead of the rest of us,” Phil said. If only that were still true, Steve thought. A lot of the guys talked about how much they were getting. Their girlfriends let them touch and look. Steve had touched but no one had ever let him look. He didn’t have a regular girlfriend. He liked playing the field. Maybe he just hadn’t met the right girl yet. He knew girls who’d invite you into their houses to neck on the sofa in the living room, but it never went any further than that. Maybe he was doing something wrong. It might be different if they went to a coed high school.

• From Looking for Alaska (2005)

  Well, triple and a half, since Takumi will be there, too. Very low pressure. You won’t be able to screw up, because I’ll be there the whole time.” “Okay.” “Who’s my date?” the Colonel asked. “Your girlfriend is your date.” “All right,” he said, and then deadpanned, “but we don’t get along very well.” “So Friday? Do you have plans for Friday?” And then I laughed, because the Colonel and I didn’t have plans for this Friday, or for any other Friday for the rest of our lives. “I didn’t think so.” She smiled. “Now, we gotta go do dishes in the cafeteria, Chipper. God, the sacrifices I make.” eighty-seven days before OUR TRIPLE-AND-A-HALF DATE started off well enough. I was in Alaska’s room—for the sake of getting me a girlfriend, she’d agreed to iron a green button-down shirt for me—when Jake showed up. With blond hair to his shoulders, dark stubble on his cheeks, and the kind of faux-ruggedness that gets you a career as a catalog model, Jake was every bit as good-looking as you’d expect Alaska’s boyfriend to be. She jumped onto him and wrapped her legs around him (God forbid anyone ever does that to me, I thought. I’ll fall over ). I’d heard Alaska talk about kissing, but I’d never seen her kiss until then: As he held her by her waist, she leaned forward, her pouty lips parted, her head just slightly tilted, and enveloped his mouth with such passion that I felt I should look away but couldn’t. A good while later, she untangled herself from Jake and introduced me. “This is Pudge,” she said. Jake and I shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about ya.” He spoke with a slight Southern accent, one of the few I’d heard outside of McDonald’s. “I hope your date works out tonight, ’cause I wouldn’t want you stealin’ Alaska out from under me.” “God, you’re so adorable,” Alaska said before I could answer, kissing him again. “I’m sorry.” She laughed. “I just can’t seem to stop kissing my boyfriend.” I put on my freshly starched green shirt, and the three of us gathered up the Colonel, Sara, Lara, and Takumi and then walked to the gym to watch the Culver Creek Nothings take on Harsden Academy, a private day school in Mountain Brook, Birmingham’s richest suburb. The Colonel’s hatred for Harsden burned with the fire of a thousand suns. “The only thing I hate more than rich people,” he told me as we walked to the gym, “is stupid people. And all the kids at Harsden are rich, and they’re all too stupid to get into the Creek.” Since we were supposed to be on a date and all, I thought I’d sit next to Lara at the game, but as I tried to walk past a seated Alaska on my way to Lara, Alaska shot me a look and patted the empty spot next to her on the bleachers.

• From Delta of Venus (1977)

  The Basque hurried to his room. He found that she had given him a small black corset with lace edges, and this carried the imprint of her body. The lace was worn from all the times she had pulled at it. The Basque was stirred again. This time he took his clothes off and slipped the corset on himself. He pulled at the lacing as he had seen his mother do. He felt compressed and it hurt him, but he delighted in the pain. He imagined the governess was holding him and tightening her arms around him to the point of suffocating him. As he loosened the lace he imagined himself freeing her body so he could see her naked. Again he grew feverish, and all kinds of images haunted him—the governess’s waist, her hips, her thighs. At night he concealed all her clothes in his bed with him, and fell asleep on them, burying his sex in them as if it were into her body. He dreamed of her. The tip of his penis was constantly wet. In the morning there were rings under his eyes. She gave him a pair of her stockings. Then she gave him a pair of her black patent leather boots. He placed the boots on his bed. He lay naked now among all her belongings, struggling to create her presence, yearning for her. The shoes looked so alive. They made it appear that she had entered the room and was walking on his bed. He stood them up between his legs to look at them. It seemed as if she were going to walk on his body with her dainty pointed feet, crush him. The thought aroused him. He began to tremble. He drew the boots nearer to his body. Then he brought one near enough to touch the tip of his penis. It aroused him so violently he had an ejaculation all over the shiny leather. But this had become a form of torture. He began to write the governess letters, begging her to come to his room at night. She read them with pleasure, right in his presence, her dark eyes glittering, but she would not risk her position. Then one day she was called home by the illness of her father. The boy never saw her again. He was left with a devouring hunger for her, and her clothes haunted him. One day he made a package of all the clothing and went to a house of prostitution. He found a woman who was physically similar to the governess. He made her dress in the governess’s clothes. He watched her lace up the corset, which lifted up her breasts and set off her buttocks; watched her button the brassiere and slip on the panties. Then he asked her to put on the stockings and the boots.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Theirs was the only city in New Jersey with sex-segregated public high schools, Jefferson for boys, Battin for girls. Even St. Mary’s was coed and those kids were Catholic. “I’ll set up a card table in the laundry room,” he told Phil. “We’ll play a little acey-deucey. You in?” “Why not?” Phil said. Mason didn’t say anything. “You know what they do at their parties?” Steve said. “Who?” Phil asked. “Jeez, Phil, my sister and her friends! Who do you think?” “No idea.” “They play Rotation,” Steve said. “The musical chairs of making out. That’s a prelude to sex if ever there was one.” It was one thing to make a joke of it with Phil, but if he ever found some guy messing around with his sister, he’d tear him to shreds. Not just Natalie, but Fern. The men of the family had to be vigilant. It was their job to protect the women. That’s the way it was, whether the women liked it or not. The family’s honor was at stake. No one told him this in so many words, but he understood what his mother expected of him. To be an honorable man. He was his mother’s favorite and he knew it. Natalie and Fern were more daddy’s girls. He had ten years before he had to worry about Fern. She was just in kindergarten. By then he’d be, what—twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight? He’d probably be married, maybe with his own kids. Jeez, that was a scary thought. “So what time tonight?” Phil asked Steve. “Around eight.” “I’ll be there.” Phil turned to Mason. “You want a ride home? I got the car outside.” “Yeah, sure,” Mason said. “I just have to pick up my dog. The janitor’s watching him in the basement.” Steve had a car outside, too. But they were going in different directions. MasonPhil took Mason home for supper, introduced him and his dog, Fred, to Phil’s parents. Phil swore it would be okay, said his mother liked dogs, and it was true—she took to Fred right away, scratching him behind the ears like she knew what she was doing. “Look at this little fellow. What a darling boy you are,” she said to the dog, who cocked his head at her. “I miss my dog Goldie very much,” she told Mason. At the dinner table, Fred sat at Mrs. Stein’s feet, looking up at her, hoping for scraps. There was no more talk of Goldie and Mason didn’t ask any questions. Phil’s father was some big-deal executive. He and Phil talked about football over the roast beef. They were New York Giants fans and had tickets for tomorrow’s game, the last of the season, against the New York Yanks. “Are you a fan, son?” Phil’s father asked Mason. “Yes, sir,” Mason answered. “What team?” Phil’s father asked. “Yours, sir, the New York Giants.” “Attaboy!” Phil’s father said, clinking his fork against his glass. Mason preferred baseball to football but he kept that to himself.

• From Looking for Alaska (2005)

  “I’m not allowed to sit next to my date?” I asked. “Pudge, one of us has been a girl her whole life. The other of us has never gotten to second base. If I were you, I’d sit down, look cute, and be your pleasantly aloof self.” “Okay. Whatever you say.” Jake said, “That’s pretty much my strategy for pleasing Alaska.” “Aww,” she said, “so sweet! Pudge, did I tell you that Jake is recording an album with his band? They’re fantastic. They’re like Radiohead meets the Flaming Lips. Did I tell you that I came up with their name, Hickman Territory?” And then, realizing she was being silly: “Did I tell you that Jake is hung like a horse and a beautiful, sensual lover?” “Baby, Jesus.” Jake smiled. “Not in front of the kids.” I wanted to hate Jake, of course, but as I watched them together, smiling and fumbling all over each other, I didn’t hate him. I wanted to be him, sure, but I tried to remember I was ostensibly on a date with someone else. Harsden Academy’s star player was a six-foot-seven Goliath named Travis Eastman that everyone—even his mother, I suspect—called the Beast. The first time the Beast got to the free-throw line, the Colonel could not keep himself from swearing while he taunted: “You owe everything to your daddy, you stupid redneck bastard.” The Beast turned around and glared, and the Colonel almost got kicked out after the first free throw, but he smiled at the ref and said, “Sorry!” “I want to stay around for a good part of this one,” he said to me. At the start of the second half, with the Creek down by a surprisingly slim margin of twenty-four points and the Beast at the foul line, the Colonel looked at Takumi and said, “It’s time.” Takumi and the Colonel stood up as the crowd went, “Shhh…” “I don’t know if this is the best time to tell you this,” the Colonel shouted at the Beast, “but Takumi here hooked up with your girlfriend just before the game.” That made everyone laugh—except the Beast, who turned from the free throw line and walked calmly, with the ball, toward us. “I think we run now,” Takumi said. “I haven’t gotten kicked out,” the Colonel answered. “Later,” Takumi said. I don’t know whether it was the general anxiety of being on a date (albeit one with my would-be date sitting five people away from me) or the specific anxiety of having the Beast stare in my direction, but for some reason, I took off running after Takumi. I thought we were in the clear as we began to round the corner of the bleachers, but then I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a cylindrical orange object getting bigger and bigger, like a fast-approaching sun. I thought: I think that is going to hit me. I thought: I should duck.

• From Delta of Venus (1977)

  Another time when they came to play with him he put his hands under the quilt. Then he raised the quilt with his forefinger and dared them to catch it. So with great eagerness, they began to chase the finger, which disappeared and reappeared in different parts of the bed, catching it firmly in their hands. After a moment it was not the finger but the penis they caught over and over again, and seeking to extricate it, he made them grasp it more strongly than ever. He would disappear under the covers completely, and taking his penis in his hand suddenly thrust it upward for them to catch. He pretended to be an animal, sought to catch and bite them, sometimes quite near where he wanted to, and they took great delight in this. With the “animal” they also played hide-and-seek. The “animal” was to spring at them from some hidden corner. He hid in the closet on the floor and covered himself with clothes. One of the little girls opened the closet. He could see under her dress; he caught her and bit her playfully on the thighs. So heated were the games, so great were the confusion of the battle and the abandon of the little girls at play, that very often his hand went everywhere he wanted it to go. EVENTUALLY the Baron moved on again, but his high trapeze leaps from fortune to fortune deteriorated when his sexual quest became stronger than his quest for money and power. It seemed as though the strength of his desire for women was no longer under control. He was eager to rid himself of his wives, so as to pursue his search for sensation throughout the world. One day he heard that the Brazilian dancer he had loved had died of an overdose of opium. Their two daughters were grown to the ages of fifteen and sixteen and wanted their father to take care of them. He sent for them. He was then living in New York with a wife by whom he had had a son. The woman was not happy at the thought of his daughters’ arrival. She was jealous for her son, who was only fourteen. After all his expeditions, the Baron now wanted a home and a rest from difficulties and pretenses. He had a woman he rather liked and three children. The idea of meeting his daughters again interested him. He received them with great demonstrations of affection. One was beautiful, the other, less so but piquant. They had been brought up to witness their mother’s life and were not restrained or prudish. The beauty of their father impressed them. He, on the other hand, was reminded of his games with the two little girls in Rome, only his daughters were a little older, and it added a great attraction to the situation.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  *Lead-in (Morin):* Alice came to therapy tired of acquiescing to sex with Hugh—rarely genuine desire. **Voice — Morin / Alice:** The reasons for her dilemma quickly became apparent as she described how much she had enjoyed sex with Hugh before they married. Both were active in the church youth group. But Alice was a bit wilder and enjoyed seducing Hugh, who, although horny, believed in abstaining from sex until marriage because he hoped to become a minister. When I explained the naughtiness factor, Alice understood it immediately and soon realized what had gone wrong with her sex life. “The moment we married,” Alice proclaimed, “I felt completely different about sex. Now it was proper, a duty, a bore!” Her challenge was to restore a little naughtiness to her relationship, not an easy task for a minister’s wife. Notes: Erotic contrast is social-sexual (“seducing,” “horny,” abstinence) leading to Alice’s punchline—voice in quoted burst. ```yaml ni-v1 passage_code: TEM-15 scene_context: scene_type: testimony age: null setting: "therapy; Alice contrasts the naughtiness of premarital sex with Hugh (active in church youth group, aiming for ministry) against the dutiful marital sex that followed" characters: ["Alice (therapy composite, minister's wife)", "Hugh (her husband, minister track)", "Morin (therapist-narrator)"] narrative_function: interpretation psychological_engine: desire: type: sexual intensity: 4 object_of_desire: "the transgressive charge of seducing Hugh before marriage" obstacle: type: moral description: "Hugh's religious abstinence before marriage; after marriage, the legitimacy itself — sex becomes proper, a duty, a bore" shame: type: religious_shame intensity: 5 behavior: action_taken: "seduced Hugh while they were in the church youth group; after marriage, acquiesced to sex without genuine desire; entered therapy" outcome: immediate: "acquiescing to sex with Hugh rarely from real want" long_term: "recognizes the 'naughtiness factor' as what she lost; her challenge is to restore it inside a minister's marriage" internal_dialogue: "The moment we married, I felt completely different about sex. Now it was proper, a duty, a bore!" emotional_state: before: ashamed during: resigned after: resigned identity_tension: conflict_axis: desire_vs_belief conflict_type: desire_vs_religion resolution_type: suppression resolution_status: partially_integrated narrative_craft: sensory_modes: [emotional] voice_type: reflective time_distance: retrospective relationship: dynamic: disillusionment pairings: - Venus ``` --- ## Summary | Metric | Value | |--------|--------| | Passages | 15 core + **4** anatomy supplements (**TEM-G01**–**TEM-G04**) | | Highest charge | **TEM-01**–**TEM-07** (5) — top code **TEM-01** | | Primary arc tags | mechanism, permission | **Cross-pairings:** **Venus** — pursuit / visibility (Jana, Glynis), disclosure (Frederico). **Stripped Nashville** — Regina only with clinical framing. **Bigorexia** — Claude / Ron anxiety contrasts. **Breast Archives** — weak. **Revision note (2026):** Passages expanded to include erotic/sexual language present in *The Erotic Mind*, with narrative lead-up and wind-down where the book supplies them—speaker voice prioritized over analytic trimming. --- ## Supplement — erotic, sexual, and embodied intimacy There is **no separate supplement file** for TEM: respondent testimony above is already framed with Morin **lead-in** and **wind-down** blocks wherever the source supports them (see revision note). --- ## Supplement — sex-specific anatomy and genital embodiment *(**TEM-G01** — Morin theory on **penis** feedback vs diffuse female arousal. **TEM-G02**–**TEM-G03** — survey voices naming **dick/cock** [Trevor] and **vagina/labia/clit** [Arlene]. **TEM-G04** — Regina, **vaginismus** [respondent]. Not duplicated in **TEM-01**–**TEM-15**.)* **PASSAGE TEM-G01** Speaker: Jack Morin (author) Charge: 3 Arc stage: mechanism Themes: lust focus, penis as feedback loop, diffuse female arousal There are, however, very real differences between men’s and women’s lust. The narrowing of focus that is a hallmark of lust operates in both sexes, although it is significantly more pronounced in men. I believe that a major reason for this difference is the penis—an instantaneous and unavoidable arousal feedback system. Even as a children, boys are constantly learning about their turn-ons, even if they’re not supposed to—even if they don’t want to. A stiffening penis is extremely difficult to ignore. Later, when they learn to masturbate, most men discover an even more compelling link between their favorite fantasy images and the immediate responses of their genitals. When a girl feels turned on, her genital responses are far less obvious. She may feel warm and tingly all over, but she won’t necessarily associate her arousal with changes in her genitals—or vice versa. As a result, her turn-ons are more diffuse, less defined, less narrowed. However, these differences are slowly changing. An increasing number of women are deliberately using masturbation and fantasy to cultivate more defined, focused erotic preferences. Notes: Theory language—pairs **CAY** nonconcordance material and **UNT-G01** clitoris anatomy synthesis without duplicating survey erotic scenes. ```yaml ni-v1 passage_code: TEM-G01 scene_context: scene_type: reflection age: null setting: "Morin's theoretical framing on sex differences in lust: penis as immediate feedback loop vs. diffuse female arousal" characters: ["Jack Morin (author)"] narrative_function: interpretation psychological_engine: desire: type: unknown intensity: 3 object_of_desire: "(theoretical frame, not a personal desire)" obstacle: type: physical description: "neuro-anatomical difference — a stiffening penis is hard to ignore; female genital cues are more diffuse" shame: type: unknown intensity: 1 behavior: action_taken: "presents a theory of asymmetric erotic focus and notes that women increasingly cultivate focus through masturbation and fantasy" outcome: immediate: "frames the rest of the book's male/female arousal asymmetry" long_term: "informs the CET chapter's account of why men's turn-ons are more narrowed" internal_dialogue: "a major reason for this difference is the penis — an instantaneous and unavoidable arousal feedback system" emotional_state: before: calm during: calm after: calm identity_tension: conflict_axis: body_vs_mind conflict_type: desire_vs_gender_role resolution_type: unknown resolution_status: unknown narrative_craft: sensory_modes: [physical] voice_type: analytic time_distance: archival pairings: - Bigorexia ``` --- **PASSAGE TEM-G02** Speaker: Trevor (survey respondent; gay man, late thirties — Morin) Charge: 5 Arc stage: permission Themes: anal penetration, orgasm without penile stimulation, naming **dick** / **cock** *Lead-in (Morin):* Under idyllic encounters, Morin presents Trevor with Eric—harmony during penetration. **Voice — Trevor:** His name was Eric and he was extremely attractive to me, with a firm, slightly developed body. He was the absolute best hugger. My body came alive when he wrapped me up in his arms. I especially enjoyed kissing him, his lips so soft as he kissed me in return. I remember gazing deep into his eyes while he fucked me as I sat on top of him. Our motions were in perfect harmony. It was easy handling him inside me. I was totally amazed by it all and kept staring at him and his beautiful body, wondering if it was all a dream. The thought of my good luck, together with the sight of him, and the feeling of his dick inside of me—I’ve never been more aroused. His movements and thrusts when he came gave me an orgasm without any stimulation of my cock. I couldn’t believe it since I’ve always needed my dick jerked off to come. I never saw Eric again. Nor have I ever felt so responsive since, though I’ve attempted to recreate the feeling with other men. I often wonder what made that evening so unique. It was truly magical. Notes: Embodied **male-male** genital language not covered elsewhere in the numbered **TEM-01**–**TEM-15** set. ```yaml ni-v1 passage_code: TEM-G02 scene_context: scene_type: testimony age: null setting: "Trevor's one idyllic night with Eric; he sits on top of Eric during penetration; later alone remembering" characters: ["Trevor (late 30s, gay man, survey respondent)", "Eric (one-time lover)"] narrative_function: climax psychological_engine: desire: type: transcendence intensity: 10 object_of_desire: "Eric; harmony between their bodies; an embodied coming-alive" obstacle: type: internal description: "disbelief at the beauty of the encounter; the historical pattern of needing penile stimulation to come" shame: type: orientation_shame intensity: 3 behavior: action_taken: "hugged, kissed, gazed into Eric's eyes during penetration; felt Eric's dick inside him; came from anal stimulation alone" outcome: immediate: "orgasm without any stimulation of his cock — unprecedented for him" long_term: "the encounter becomes a never-repeated reference point; he still wonders what made it unique" internal_dialogue: "I kept staring at him and his beautiful body, wondering if it was all a dream" emotional_state: before: yearning during: aroused after: tender identity_tension: conflict_axis: body_vs_mind conflict_type: desire_vs_self_story resolution_type: expression resolution_status: transformed_into_identity narrative_craft: sensory_modes: [visual, physical, kinesthetic, emotional] voice_type: reflective time_distance: retrospective relationship: dynamic: reciprocal pairings: - Venus ``` --- **PASSAGE TEM-G03** Speaker: Arlene (favorite fantasy — Morin) Charge: 5 Arc stage: mechanism Themes: **vagina**, **labia**, **clit**, oral-genital specificity *Lead-in (Morin):* Women’s fantasies often foreground setting; Arlene combines romance with explicit oral choreography. **Voice — Arlene:** I’m in the mountains and have floated out to a rock in the middle of an isolated lake. I am lying in the sun, soaking up the warmth, with no clothes on and none with me. Suddenly I’m aware of a handsome man in his early to mid-thirties, at least six feet tall, slender, muscular, with dark hair. His body is in great shape. He’s beautifully tanned with soft lips, talkative eyes, and large hands. He is naked too. He swims over to my rock and climbs up. Slowly, passionately, he kisses me and then licks every part of my body, one by one. I can barely stand it when his tongue wiggles its way up my thighs to my vagina where he meticulously traces the shape of each lip, circling the opening and then kissing my clit until I’m writhing in ecstasy. He lies down beside me and soon we make joyous love. First he is on top of me, then I’m on top of him. We are free, incredibly sensuous and tender. Afterward I quietly swim off as he sleeps. I glance back for one last look at his moist body glistening in the sun. Notes: Female-specific external anatomy named in sequence—fills a gap left by respondent stories that abbreviate vulva mechanics. ```yaml ni-v1 passage_code: TEM-G03 scene_context: scene_type: fantasy_projection age: null setting: "Arlene's favorite fantasy — alone on a rock in an isolated mountain lake; a stranger swims over" characters: ["Arlene (survey respondent)", "imagined lover (mid-30s, tall, muscular, dark-haired, naked)"] narrative_function: climax psychological_engine: desire: type: sexual intensity: 9 object_of_desire: "the imagined lover; oral choreography mapping her vulva, lip by lip, to her clit" obstacle: type: unknown description: "(fantasy — no obstacle inside the scene)" shame: type: unknown intensity: 0 behavior: action_taken: "lies naked on the rock; is kissed and licked; receives oral; makes love face-to-face and on top; swims off as he sleeps" outcome: immediate: "writhing in ecstasy during oral; joyous lovemaking in turn-taking positions" long_term: "fantasy held as a reliable erotic return point" internal_dialogue: "I can barely stand it when his tongue wiggles its way up my thighs" emotional_state: before: calm during: aroused after: calm identity_tension: conflict_axis: body_vs_mind conflict_type: desire_vs_self_story resolution_type: expression resolution_status: openly_integrated narrative_craft: sensory_modes: [visual, physical, kinesthetic, olfactory] voice_type: poetic time_distance: immediate relationship: dynamic: idealization pairings: - Venus ``` --- **PASSAGE TEM-G04** Speaker: Regina (therapy respondent; same longitudinal figure as core **TEM-02**) Charge: 5 Arc stage: management Themes: vaginismus, vaginal muscle spasm, relief at diagnostic naming Later she confided to me that intercourse was sometimes painful and she often tried to avoid it. “I get guys off before they have a chance to fuck me,” she said. She believed that her discomfort with intercourse was a major reason that so many men had rejected her. “Fucking is all they care about,” she complained with a look of deep sadness. “Sometimes my vagina clamps down so tight it hurts,” she explained, “but I just can’t help it.” She was relieved to know that her problem had a name—**vaginismus**—and that it happened to many women. One of the things she appreciated most about her current boyfriend, Bill, was that he seemed to crave affection as much as she. He also sensed her discomfort with intercourse and respected it.

• From The Vagina Monologues (1998)

  If my vagina could talk, it would talk about itself like me; it would talk about other vaginas; it would do vagina impressions. It would wear Harry Winston diamonds, no clothing—just there, all draped in diamonds. My vagina helped release a giant baby. It thought it would be doing more of that. It’s not. Now it wants to travel, doesn’t want a lot of company. It wants to read and know things and get out more. It wants sex. It loves sex. It wants to go deeper. It’s hungry for depth. It wants kindness. It wants change. It wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm liquids and deep touch. It wants chocolate. It wants to scream. It wants to stop being angry. It wants to come. It wants to want. It wants. My vagina, my vagina. Well…it wants everything.

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  But they could tell by my rubber sweat suit and my hooded sweatshirt and my high-topped wrestling shoes that basketball wasn’t my sport. They tolerated me in the pickup games. “I dig you dudes another day,” Tower would say to us in the mirror, tilting his leather hat. The word at the Y was that the University of Washington recruited him out of a New York City high school, then sent him to Spokane Community to get his grades up. Sometimes I’d see him out at Rollie’s Ribs when I’d stop there to pick up a ten-dollar bill or two after a game. Minors aren’t supposed to be in there, but the cops must not watch the place very carefully. I think the cops generally try to stay pretty unobtrusive in that part of town. Also, I’m pretty old-looking for my age. I’m the one who buys everybody’s beer. Now that I’m eighteen I can do that legally. The first time I saw Tower out at Rollie’s, Carla was with him. They were sitting with Elmo and some guys who played for the Spokes. Elmo saw me and flashed me the big fist, which in Rollie’s I returned somewhat self-consciously. Elmo was about to introduce me to Carla when Tower said, “They know each other, man. She lives in his daddy’s house.” “Did Dad get to see the game?” Carla asked. “He had to work,” I replied. I got a bucket of ribs for Kuch and me and split, waving to everybody. I’d dropped to 168 by then, but dieting in summer was turning out to be way too tough. I rolled the DeSoto toward the Northside with the good night smells coming in the window and the good rib smells coming from the seat beside me and told myself it was best not to overtrain. Later, as I sat in the park with the bucket of ribs between my legs and a twelve-pack of Coors beer at my side, Kuch came screaming through the trees on his racer sliding about thirty yards across the grass into the little cove of benches I’d built so the cops wouldn’t spot us drinking. The park was deserted. Kids are always making forts out of the benches, so our little hideout aroused no suspicion. “You crazy bastard,” I said. “You get caught riding that thing on the street, they’ll impound it. And you can’t get to be an AMA Expert with your bike in the police garage.” “No cop car could catch me,” Kuch replied, jamming the heel of his hand down hard on a bottle top, popping the cap against the edge of a bench. “I can climb trees on this machine,” he said through the foam. “I wouldn’t have to outrun ’em. I’d just wick it up a tree and hide.” I told Kuch about my first sighting of Carla’s nipples. I said the time she took off her shirt to wrap Dad’s hand gave me my only shot.

• From The Girls (2016)

  I had never spent much time with Teddy, beyond the familiarity of being young at neighborhood parties, anyone under age eighteen herded together in a forced march to friendship. Sometimes I’d see him riding his bike along the fire road with a boy in glasses: he’d once let me pet a barn kitten they’d found, holding the tiny thing under his shirt. The kitten’s eyes were leaky with pus, but Teddy had been gentle with it, like a little mother. That was the last time I’d spoken to him. “Hey,” I said when Teddy opened the door. “Your dog.” Teddy was gaping at me like we hadn’t been neighbors our whole lives. I rolled my eyes a little at his silence. “He was in our yard,” I went on. The dog moved against my hold. It took Teddy a second to speak, but before he did, I saw him cut a helpless look at my swimsuit top, the exaggerated swell of cleavage. Teddy saw that I had noticed and got more flustered. He scowled at the dog, taking his collar. “Bad Tiki,” he said, hustling the animal into the house. “Bad dog.” The thought that Teddy Dutton might be somehow nervous around me was a surprise. Though I hadn’t even owned a bikini the last time I’d seen him, and my breasts were bigger now, pleasing even to me. I found his attention almost hilarious. A stranger had once shown Connie and me his dick by the movie theater bathrooms—it had taken a moment to understand why the man was gasping like a fish for air, but then I saw his penis, out of his zipper like an arm out of a sleeve. He’d looked at us like we were butterflies he was pinning to a board. Connie had grabbed my arm, and we’d turned and run, laughing, the Raisinets clutched in my hand starting to melt. We recounted our disgust to each other in strident tones, but there was pride, too. Like the satisfied way Patricia Bell had once asked me after class whether I’d seen how Mr. Garrison had been staring at her, and didn’t I think it was weird ? “His paws are all wet,” I said. “He’s gonna mess up the floors.” “My parents aren’t home. It doesn’t matter.” Teddy stayed in the doorway, awkward with an air of expectancy; did he think we were going to hang out? He stood there, like the unhappy boys who sometimes got erections at the chalkboard for no reason at all—he was obviously under the command of some other force. Maybe the proof of sex was visible on me in a new way. “Well,” I said. I worried I would start laughing—Teddy looked so uncomfortable. “See you.” Teddy cleared his throat, trying to throttle his voice deeper. “Sorry,” he said. “If Tiki was bothering you.” How did I know I could mess with Teddy? Why did my mind range immediately to that option?

• From My Secret Garden (1973)

  I’m afraid my fantasies are just the usual ones. This is my favorite. I am brought at the age of thirteen or fourteen, as a pubescent girl, by my mother to be sold to an Oriental potentate. Actually, it’s a faceless mother, not really my mother, because I rather have this thing against my mother. But she’s somebody of authority and she’s brought me here to sell me. She’s told me in advance exactly what I am to do. In fact, she’s trained me herself since childhood to perform sexually, she’s raised me as a purely and perfect sexual object, demonstrating on me herself to show me just how everything should be done. […] “Look at this body, the beauty of the breasts…” (That’s another thing; I used to be very hung-up about being flat-chested—I’m over that now—but certainly in fantasies I’m, beautifully endowed.) “Look at how I’ve nurtured her,” she continues, her hands moving over my hips, parting my ass for him to see, “look how beautifully she’s shaped, just to please you.”

• From The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (2001)

  Before I give in and spread my thighs wide, before I throw my head back and open up my arms to offer up my breasts, I need a little time. Time, perhaps, to uncoil from the curled position I automatically assumed, a position imprinted on my body when, as a child, I had to hide my masturbating; time to accept – as usual and once again (and even after manoeuvring in front of a camera for hours) – to show my body all at one in its entirety. It is not nudity that I am afraid of – quite the contrary – it is the snapshot moment of revelation. And it is even less because I hesitate to abandon myself to others – absolutely the contrary! – it is that I don’t know how to move from my introspective vision to seeing myself. In fact, to achieve it I need the other’s gaze. I can’t say: ‘There, look!’ I would rather wait till they say, not without caution: ‘Look how I look at you…’

• From Hot Daddies: Gay Erotic Fiction (2011)

  Smiling, he gestured toward an untouched piece of cheesecake covered with a chocolate sauce. “What would you do for this?” he taunted. “What do you want?” I asked. I lusted after that cheesecake, **but the streets had taught me the ways of older dudes.** … “Your name is Bottom.” … **“Tell me that your name is Bottom. Say it, and this whole piece of delicious cheesecake is all yours.”** “All right, my goddamn name is fuckin’ Bottom.” Pausing, I added, “Nick Bottom the Weaver.”

• From Little Birds (1979)

  The painter was carefully watching me, watching every expression of a pleasure I could not control, and now it increased so that I abandoned myself to the motion of the horse, let myself rub against the leather, until I felt the orgasm and I came, riding this way in front of him. Only then did I know that he expected it, that he had done all this to see me enjoy it. He knew when to stop the machinery. “You can rest now,” he said.

• From Hot Daddies: Gay Erotic Fiction (2011)

  He’d had a bulge in his pinstripes ever since I’d gotten into the luxury car. **And now I covered it with a warm, smooth palm,** working his erection bigger and thicker by rubbing up and down. He groaned and gripped the steering wheel, looking at me with slightly glazed eyes. “My wife…I don’t…” “Sure you do,” I said, gripping his dick through the expensive cloth and stroking. **“Fuck your wife. She’s nothing but a pain in the ass, anyway, remember?”**

• From Little Birds (1979)

  Her skin was dry like some dessert sand. When we first lay in bed it was cool, and then it would become warm and feverish. Her eyes—it is impossible to describe her eyes except by saying that they were the eyes of an orgasm. What constantly happened in her eyes was something so feverish, so incendiary, so intense that at times when I looked straight at her and felt my penis rising and palpitating, I also felt as if something were palpitating in her eyes.

• From Little Birds (1979)

  Between her legs she was impaled on a rigid pole of puritanism. All the rest of her body was loose, provocative. She always looked as if she had just come from lying in bed with a lover, or as if she were just about to lie down with one. She had circles under her eyes and such a great restlessness, an energy smoking from her whole body, impatience, avidity.

• From The Girls (2016)

  I’d only been to the ranch twice since the solstice party, but I’d already started to absorb certain ways of seeing the world, certain habits of logic. Society was crowded with straight people, Russell told us, people in paralyzed thrall to corporate interests and docile as dosed lab chimps. Those of us at the ranch functioned on a whole other level, fighting against the miserable squall, and so what if you had to mess with the straight people to achieve larger goals, larger worlds? If you checked yourself out of that old contract, Russell told us, refused all the bullshit scare tactics of civics class and prayer books and the principal’s office, you’d see there was no such thing as right and wrong. His permissive equations reduced these concepts to hollow relics, like medals from a regime no longer in power. —I asked Teddy for a drink. Lemonade, I figured, soda, anything but what he brought me, his hand shaking nervously when he passed me the glass. “Do you want a napkin?” he said. “Nah.” The intensity of his attention seemed exposing, and I laughed a little. I was just starting to learn how to be looked at. I took a deep drink. The glass was full of vodka, cloudy with the barest slip of orange juice. I coughed. “Your parents let you drink?” I asked, wiping at my mouth. “I do what I want,” he said, proud and uncertain at the same time. His eyes gleamed; I watched him decide what to say next. It was strange to watch someone else calibrate and worry over their actions instead of being the one who was worrying. Was this what Peter had felt around me? A limited patience, a sense of power that felt heady and slightly distressing. Teddy’s freckled face, ruddy and eager—he was only two years younger than me, but the distance seemed definitive. I took a large swallow from the glass, and Teddy cleared his throat. “I have some dope if you want it,” he said. —Teddy led me to his room, expectant as I glanced around at his boyish novelties. They seemed arranged for viewing, though it was all junk: a captain’s clock whose hands were dead, a long-forgotten ant farm, warped and molding. The glassy stipple of a partial arrowhead, a jar of pennies, green and scuzzy as sunken treasure. Usually I’d make some crack to Teddy. Ask him where he got the arrowhead or tell him about the whole one I’d found, the obsidian point sharp enough to draw blood. But I sensed a pressure to preserve a haughty coolness, like Suzanne that day in the park. I was already starting to understand that other people’s admiration asked something of you. That you had to shape yourself around it. The weed Teddy produced from under his mattress was brown and crumbled, barely smokable, though he held out the plastic bag with gruff dignity. I laughed. “It’s like dirt or something.

• From Little Birds (1979)

  And his eyes met with the most amazing sight: a very wide bed, profusely covered with pillows and rumpled blankets, as if it already had been the scene of a great battle; a man, seemingly cornered in a pile of pillows, as if pushed there after a series of attacks, reclining like a pasha in a harem, very calm and contented, naked, his legs folded out; and a woman, also naked, whom Louis could see only from the back, contorting herself before this pasha, undulating and deriving such pleasure from whatever she was doing with her head between his legs that her ass would shake tremulously, her legs tighten as if she were about to leap.