Nipples shouldn’t do that! and other musings on romantic fiction

When it comes to those hot ‘n’ heavy scenes scenes in fiction (yes, wink wink, nudge nudge), most would argue that it’s usually the male appendage (I say appendage, not penis, because it’s usually denoted by a euphemistic moniker a la “manhood”, “member” and so on) that gets all the attention from the authorial pen.

But this is not so!

Penises pale in comparison to nipples.

The darling buds of May

And why not? Nipples are far more egalitarian: both sexes have them, so it’s double (quadruple?) the fun. And, it turns out, nipples have a far superior range of movement.

In fact, where penises are limited to activities that wouldn’t be out of place in a sword fight (thrust! plunge! impale! [ouch]), nipples have far more up their, er, sleeves.

And, yet, none of them remotely plausible.

I’ve read about nipples furling, an action that brings to mind an umbrella being rolled up after a heavy downpour. Nipples apparently also pearl and bead, although how they do so without rolling off the body in question is difficult to conceive indeed.

They also take on floral properties: they have been known to bud (but hopefully not sprout, although I suppose this works well with the term “seed”). I’ve even read of nipples that would be of interest to a cartographer–these, apparently, form peaks. (But not stiff peaks, as those are only appropriate to meringues.)

bud1 Nipples shouldnt do that! and other musings on romantic fiction

Exhibit A: not a nipple

Lingua Franca (aka, tongue of a French guy)

But we can’t single (double?) out nipples here. They’re fairly harmless in the scheme of things, really, just sitting about until they’re needed as a signal that things are about to get steamy.

Now, lips, on the other hand, have something to answer for. They have agency. And, lips, it turns out, are in today’s romantic fiction directionally challenged.

Lips don’t kiss any more.

Rather, they angle and slant on to each other. In the next few years I’m sure we’ll see “isosceles” and “hypoteneuse” as viable kissing-related verbs. If you gave today’s romance fiction’s lips a sobriety test, they’d fail: under no circumstances would they be able to walk in a straight line.

Of course, perhaps this is because the structural integrity of our average hero’s/heroine’s lips is undermined by what their tongues are getting up to. The vocabulary term of the moment seems to be “lave”, meaning to “lap against” or “cover or swamp with water”. This term becomes even more romantic when it’s confused with “lathe”. This is a lathe:

 Nipples shouldnt do that! and other musings on romantic fiction

Please don’t kiss me with that.

What is to be done?

Now, I’m not necessarily advocating a return to Patrick White-esque sex scenes where all the good bits are so shrouded in metaphor you honestly think that you’re reading about two peacocks cooing over each other (see A Fringe of Leaves for the passage in question that left my entire year 12 Literature class baffled). But I do think that when it comes to writing sex scenes, it’s time that we step away from the thesaurus and, certainly, away from nipple-based calisthenics.

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