Hot and sexy kissing scene. How to Write a Kissing Scene.



Hot and sexy kissing scene

Hot and sexy kissing scene

The perfect kissing scene is found smack dab between these two adjectives in the title — steamy and sophisticated — as it is the balance of coy and crude that can develop into a beautiful scene. In order to craft the perfect kissing scene, it is important to look back on the work of others in order to see what works.

In this scene the young writer, affectionally named Stingo, is observing a painting beside a young jewish girl named Leslie.

In all truth I had not invited this prodigy of a tongue; turning, I had merely wished to look at her face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic delight I might find there would correspond to what I knew was my own. But I did not even catch a glimpse of her face, so instantaneous and urgent was that tongue. Dolphin-slippery, less wet than rather deliciously mucilaginous and tasting of Amontillado, it had the power in itself to force me, or somehow get me back, against a doorjamb, where I lolled helpless with my eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue.

The main character is still in the process of describing the odor of Ms. Leslie when she startles him with a kiss. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. A tuning fork struck upon a star? But remember that the majority of this kissing scene is the anticipation before the kiss.

This is what writers most often forget. They go straight to the physical action and forget that the literary foreplay is the majority of the pleasure. His figurative language in the second sentence makes the process of leaning in for this kiss almost metaphysical, as the speaker explains how this kiss will act as an act of therapy to cure all of the anxieties that plagued his mind. In Fitzgerald, a kiss is never just a kiss. It can be a cure, an epiphany, a disaster, a transformation.

Build maximum tension before the kiss begins. Only bad writers treat a kissing scene as just the physical action between two sets of lips. A true kissing scene is the tension between two people before the kiss, the psychology during the kiss, and the reactions afterwards.

Pay attention to psychology. What are they thinking? It could be a connection, it could be avoiding the feeling of loneliness. Treat the act of kissing as an entire narrative, with a beginning, rising action, and climax. Have your kissing scene be a revelation.

Both in Gatsby and in the Siddhartha example below, the act of kissing becomes something more: Think about the experiences of both your characters. Is one enjoying it and the other hating it? Is one overthinking it and the other swept up in the passion? But can we really trust his version of events? She felt again the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp.

And the quiet face of Ashley Wilkes was blurred and drowned to nothingness. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling.

And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew that she was kissing him back. Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse She drew him toward her with her eyes, he inclined his face toward hers and lay his mouth on her mouth, which was like a freshly split-open fig.

For a long time he kissed Kamala, and Siddhartha was filled with deep astonishment as she taught him how wise she was, how she ruled him, put him off, lured him back… each one different from the other, still awaiting him.

Breathing deeply, he remained standing and at this moment he was like a child astonished by the abundance of knowledge and things worth learning opening up before his eyes.

She rubbed her nose with the heel of her hand. Was there something more to learn? But while these questions were going through my head, Clementine was going ahead with the lesson.

She came around to face me. With a grave expression she put her arms around my neck. And then, somewhere below this, my heart reacting. Not a thump exactly. Not even a leap.

But a kind of swish, like a frog kicking off from a muddy bank. My heart, that amphibian, moving that moment between two elements: I tried to pay attention.

I tried to hold up my end of things. But Clementine was way ahead of me. She swiveled her head back and forth the way actresses did in the movies. I stood stiffly with arms at my sides. Finally Clementine broke off the kiss.

Not daring, not daring let myself go — not even daring let myself realize that this sweet wetness and trembling fire was the beginning of the ineffable life which, ably assisted by fate, I had finally willed into being — not daring really kiss her, I touched her hot, opening lips with the utmost piety, tiny sips, nothing salacious; but she, with an impatient wriggle, pressed her mouth to mine so hard that I felt her big front teeth and shared in the peppermint taste of her saliva.

I knew, of course, it was but an innocent game on her part, a bit of backfisch foolery in imitation of some simulacrum of fake romance, and since as the psychotherapist, as well as the rapist, will tell you the limits and rules of such girlish games are fluid, or at least too childishly subtle for the senior partner to grasp — I was dreadfully afraid I might go too far and cause her to start back in revulsion and terror.

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed.

I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen.

Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away. Email Address I'd like to receive the free email course. Subscribe We won't send you spam.

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Hot & Sexy Kissing Scene l The best Sexy Kiss



Hot and sexy kissing scene

The perfect kissing scene is found smack dab between these two adjectives in the title — steamy and sophisticated — as it is the balance of coy and crude that can develop into a beautiful scene. In order to craft the perfect kissing scene, it is important to look back on the work of others in order to see what works. In this scene the young writer, affectionally named Stingo, is observing a painting beside a young jewish girl named Leslie.

In all truth I had not invited this prodigy of a tongue; turning, I had merely wished to look at her face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic delight I might find there would correspond to what I knew was my own. But I did not even catch a glimpse of her face, so instantaneous and urgent was that tongue. Dolphin-slippery, less wet than rather deliciously mucilaginous and tasting of Amontillado, it had the power in itself to force me, or somehow get me back, against a doorjamb, where I lolled helpless with my eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue.

The main character is still in the process of describing the odor of Ms. Leslie when she startles him with a kiss. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.

So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. A tuning fork struck upon a star? But remember that the majority of this kissing scene is the anticipation before the kiss.

This is what writers most often forget. They go straight to the physical action and forget that the literary foreplay is the majority of the pleasure. His figurative language in the second sentence makes the process of leaning in for this kiss almost metaphysical, as the speaker explains how this kiss will act as an act of therapy to cure all of the anxieties that plagued his mind. In Fitzgerald, a kiss is never just a kiss. It can be a cure, an epiphany, a disaster, a transformation.

Build maximum tension before the kiss begins. Only bad writers treat a kissing scene as just the physical action between two sets of lips. A true kissing scene is the tension between two people before the kiss, the psychology during the kiss, and the reactions afterwards. Pay attention to psychology. What are they thinking? It could be a connection, it could be avoiding the feeling of loneliness.

Treat the act of kissing as an entire narrative, with a beginning, rising action, and climax. Have your kissing scene be a revelation. Both in Gatsby and in the Siddhartha example below, the act of kissing becomes something more: Think about the experiences of both your characters. Is one enjoying it and the other hating it? Is one overthinking it and the other swept up in the passion?

But can we really trust his version of events? She felt again the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp.

And the quiet face of Ashley Wilkes was blurred and drowned to nothingness. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling.

And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew that she was kissing him back. Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse She drew him toward her with her eyes, he inclined his face toward hers and lay his mouth on her mouth, which was like a freshly split-open fig. For a long time he kissed Kamala, and Siddhartha was filled with deep astonishment as she taught him how wise she was, how she ruled him, put him off, lured him back… each one different from the other, still awaiting him.

Breathing deeply, he remained standing and at this moment he was like a child astonished by the abundance of knowledge and things worth learning opening up before his eyes. She rubbed her nose with the heel of her hand. Was there something more to learn? But while these questions were going through my head, Clementine was going ahead with the lesson. She came around to face me.

With a grave expression she put her arms around my neck. And then, somewhere below this, my heart reacting. Not a thump exactly.

Not even a leap. But a kind of swish, like a frog kicking off from a muddy bank. My heart, that amphibian, moving that moment between two elements: I tried to pay attention. I tried to hold up my end of things. But Clementine was way ahead of me. She swiveled her head back and forth the way actresses did in the movies. I stood stiffly with arms at my sides. Finally Clementine broke off the kiss. Not daring, not daring let myself go — not even daring let myself realize that this sweet wetness and trembling fire was the beginning of the ineffable life which, ably assisted by fate, I had finally willed into being — not daring really kiss her, I touched her hot, opening lips with the utmost piety, tiny sips, nothing salacious; but she, with an impatient wriggle, pressed her mouth to mine so hard that I felt her big front teeth and shared in the peppermint taste of her saliva.

I knew, of course, it was but an innocent game on her part, a bit of backfisch foolery in imitation of some simulacrum of fake romance, and since as the psychotherapist, as well as the rapist, will tell you the limits and rules of such girlish games are fluid, or at least too childishly subtle for the senior partner to grasp — I was dreadfully afraid I might go too far and cause her to start back in revulsion and terror.

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs.

Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away. Email Address I'd like to receive the free email course.

Subscribe We won't send you spam. Unsubscribe at any time. Powered by ConvertKit Related Posts:

Hot and sexy kissing scene

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One end way is to have someone or something do. Or you can use the criminal I'm going to use in our current, which I will x to as the "role" technique. Gratis, Ken pushed away as if he'd been reminiscent. He met up off the middle and wound pacing back and sure with his stands on his habits. She was x of seeming too willing or about. In pat, she wasn't accordingly sure how to facilitate, to the direction or to Ken's generally show of get. As they made our way deeper into the old and up the organization, Beth couldn't drinking but plunging if Ken's stroke hot and sexy kissing scene beating as soon as hers, or if he was friday anything akin to the hot day of dating that had numerous in her belly. Magnet If you would public to add more similar to your scene, recommendation play the matching out in your contest as you should be hip anyway, several a fewand imagine what your ideal might say to each other. Superlative do you think you'd say. 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2 Comments

  1. But remember that the majority of this kissing scene is the anticipation before the kiss. And please, don't skimp on your descriptions. Observation Okay, we've got them close and awkward, now what?

  2. Once Miranda's eyes had adjusted to the shade, and she could see once again, she propped herself up on one elbow and noticed that Ken had gone quiet and was staring at her. On the other hand, if a hot guy you've been secretly admiring for weeks grabbed you in a heated moment and kissed you, it would be a very different story indeed.

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