I am reading a book in which the man nasty talks the whole damn time he and his honey are 1) talking about having sex, 2) having sex, or 3) talking about when they had sex. It’s not working for me. For me, when I am reading a love scene, talk of spurting, and ball sacs, and pretty titties yanks me right out of the mood. I admit it: I am picky about sex scenes.

Everytime I read a book where the heroine climaxes on the hero’s very first thrust, my eyes roll so hard to the back of my head I can no longer see the text. (This response of mine did NOT go over very well with Anne Stuart, by the way.) And don’t even get me started on couples who have sex on the beach–ON THE SANDY BEACH. There are some places that sand will make you miserable!

On the other hand, purple prose, unequal power dynamics, and quickie sex rarely derail me. Anal sex, when handled with care, is also just fine by me.

How about you? What in a sex scene doesn’t do it for you? Extra points for examples!

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Impenitent social media enthusiast. Relational trend spotter. Enjoys both carpe diem and the fish of the day.