The gang at Nerve - a site that's long led the pack for cut-above erotica - has unveiled the Henry Miller Award for the best literary sex scene. It's going interactive now, and you can weigh in with your choice and help determine which books advance to the final round. (So far, we're partial to the excerpt from First Love, but it's early.)
He'd stood in the doorway of his darkened room and he could tell by her breathing that she wasn't asleep, but that she was pretending to be and that he had to pretend she was, as well, in order to do what he wanted to do to her. He thought at the time he was sick for wanting to lift her dress, for wanting to lick and suck at her cotton underwear, for wanting to get his mouth inside her underwear, for wanting to kiss her, which he couldn't do because that was her face and she was supposed to be asleep. So he kept his face between her legs, intoxicated by the strange smell of her, by the taste of her, by the fact that she was letting him do this to her, letting him kiss her there. He thought he would die; his heart was lurching in his chest like a kicking foot. When he finally pulled aside one of the elasticized bands of her underpants and when he finally got his tongue right up the center of her parted flesh to this hard knot he couldn't leave alone, she made a noise that unnerved and electrified him. He knew this was why he had put his head between her legs in the first place.