How Soon Should They Wait to ‘Get Busy’

When does it happen in your story?
Are you trying to write a stroker or not?

I've had successful stories (at least by my standards) with a story that had its first sex 15K or 20K words in.
Other stories dive right nicely pretty much immediately.

Do what feels right for you and your story.
 
My question is referring to how long should I pull the reader until I give them some ‘throb’?
Apologies for my facetious answer.

I think the correct answer is 'you pull, they throb'. But, after more than five years on Lit, you probably know that already.
 
My question is referring to how long should I pull the reader until I give them some ‘throb’?
As long as you like. There's no rule nor guidance anyone can give, other than, it depends. On the length of the story, the intent of the story, your skill as a writer, your mood on the day, the mood of the reader, etc etc.
 
As long as it is before the story ends ...
I dunno. I've got a story ends like this:
Many years later Lizzie returned to the café. It had changed hands several times, but still had tables outside, circled around the spreading tree. She asked the waiter if that table, over there by the tree, was taken. It wasn't, and she asked, pointing to a Reserved sign, black writing on gold, may I take that sign to place on the table? Do you mind? Not at all, the waiter replied, are you expecting someone?

No, she replied. I used to work here, that table had a special meaning. A couple I met, they were very good to me. They always sat there. I come back when I can, to remember them.

Can I expect you again? Will you see them?

No, they moved away from this city, it's only me coming back.

The server left Lizzie to her memories, and after bringing her coffee in a delicate cup, stood watching her.

She touched an amulet that hung against her neck, attached to a black velvet ribbon that circled her throat. As she turned it in her hand, she crossed one leg over the other and began to swing her foot. Her legs were long, clad in high leather boots and black lace stockings. Her very short skirt, also leather, revealed a glimpse of a long slender thigh.

Lizzie caught the look, the long watching, the longing. She turned the handle of her cup towards the waiter and beckoned, with a subtle rise of her finger. The waiter came to her.

When you serve me, you may call me Elizabeth, she said.
 
Yes, but there was a time when I wasn’t really submitting. I have just started submitting again.
Good for you.

Your question amounts to 'how long is a piece of string'. There is no definitive answer (hence the stupid ones).

Keep writing and make what you can of the feedback.
 
Last edited:
In most of my stories I’ve tried to start a sex scene before the first Lit page ends (about page six in word pages) but sometimes it takes longer because there’s a lot going on, mood to set, issues to settle, etc. In Ruleskirter for example, Doug and Lisa just met and he helped her fight back against a would be rapist. She’s a borderline nympho, and they’re soulmates, but I couldn’t see her too eager to hop into bed under the circumstances, her usual mood notwithstanding. So it took 4 dates and 5 Lit pages. In Fear, Lust, and Vanity Scarlett enjoys lesbian sex but she isn’t a committed instigator of it. So yeah, she’s turned on by nude modeling with Keira Knightley, but they wait until they get through a bit of angst and to page two before Scarlett observes Keira’s brash behavior and dares to make an approach. Other stories have characters waiting to fuck for similar reasons- they need to settle issues, or it just doesn’t fit the narrative yet. I think Kratos and Freya had the most issues in my God of War story, followed closely by the four leads in the Rendezvous series. I did all I could to make the sex hot and enjoyable when I had to delay it. You want to reward the readers who stick around.
 
The Motherfucking Data says something spicy should be happening by the 69th word, which isn’t a rule so much as the data table everyone ends up on.
 
Depends on the story for the most part and the category to a lesser extent.
When would it make sense for these people to have sex?
 
He saw her across the room, perched on the bar stool, silhouetted in the light. He strode through the wisps of cigarette smoke, never veering from his destiny.

"Hello," he said.

She put down her martini and looked at him. "Hello."

"Shall we do It?" he asked.

She looked at him quizzically. "It?" she inquired.

"Yes, it," he said. "The big It, the only one that matters. We can do it in the park on a lark. Maybe in my car after going far. Maybe in a hotel or motel, either's fine. Maybe in the bath where we can have a laugh. We can do it on a net if it's not too wet. We can go at it hot..." he shrugged, "or maybe not."

She looked at him intently, head slightly cocked to one side. He imagined that she was trying to read his mind, and he was sure that she was about to decline. But then she smiled and said, "Yes, let's why not."

She stood. He crooked his arm and she slid hers around his. They walked out arm in arm, together, as one.

That night, in his bed, atop clean sheets that ended dirty... they did It. And whatever the future held for them afterward, for that night and the next morning when they awake to a bright sunny sky, they were happy, together, as one.

The End
 
He saw her across the room, perched on the bar stool, silhouetted in the light. He strode through the wisps of cigarette smoke, never veering from his destiny.

"Hello," he said.

She put down her martini and looked at him. "Hello."

"Shall we do It?" he asked.

She looked at him quizzically. "It?" she inquired.

"Yes, it," he said. "The big It, the only one that matters. We can do it in the park on a lark. Maybe in my car after going far. Maybe in a hotel or motel, either's fine. Maybe in the bath where we can have a laugh. We can do it on a net if it's not too wet. We can go at it hot..." he shrugged, "or maybe not."

She looked at him intently, head slightly cocked to one side. He imagined that she was trying to read his mind, and he was sure that she was about to decline. But then she smiled and said, "Yes, let's why not."

She stood. He crooked his arm and she slid hers around his. They walked out arm in arm, together, as one.

That night, in his bed, atop clean sheets that ended dirty... they did It. And whatever the future held for them afterward, for that night and the next morning when they awake to a bright sunny sky, they were happy, together, as one.

The End
Actually that story gets suuuuuuper ambiguous in an interesting way if you drop the last sentence!
 
Back
Top