Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           ’Eh!whatitistotouchthee!’hesaid,ashisfingercaressedthedelicate,warm,secretskinofherwaistandhips.Heputhisfacedownandrubbedhischeekagainstherbellyandagainstherthighsagainandagain.Andagainshewonderedalittleoverthesortofraptureitwastohim.Shedidnotunderstandthebeautyhefoundinher,throughtouchuponherlivingsecretbody,almosttheecstasyofbeauty.Forpassionaloneisawaketoit.Andwhenpassionisdead,orabsent,thenthemagnificentthrobofbeautyisincomprehensibleandevenalittledespicable;warm,livebeautyofcontact,somuchdeeperthanthebeautyofvision.Shefelttheglideofhischeekonherthighsandbellyandbuttocks,andtheclosebrushingofhismoustacheandhissoftthickhair,andherkneesbegantoquiver.Fardowninhershefeltanewstirring,anewnakednessemerging.Andshewashalfafraid.Halfshewishedhewouldnotcaressherso.Hewasencompassinghersomehow.Yetshewaswaiting,waiting.

           Andwhenhecameintoher,withanintensificationofreliefandconsummationthatwaspurepeacetohim,stillshewaswaiting.Shefeltherselfalittleleftout.Andsheknew,partlyitwasherownfault.Shewilledherselfintothisseparateness.Nowperhapsshewascondemnedtoit.Shelaystill,feelinghismotionwithinher,hisdeep-sunkintentness,thesuddenquiverofhimatthespringingofhisseed,thentheslow-subsidingthrust.Thatthrustofthebuttocks,surelyitwasalittleridiculous.Ifyouwereawoman,andapartinallthebusiness,surelythatthrustingoftheman’sbuttockswassupremelyridiculous.