Isn't it just possible that we have too many categories already? May I quote Polonius:
"The best actors in the world, either for
tragedy,
comedy,
history,
pastoral,
pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral,
tragical-historical,
tragical-comical-historical-pastoral,
scene individable, or poem unlimited.
Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men."
Really good writing - I suggest this is the point Shakespeare was hinting at, tongue firmly in cheek - is uncategorisable. And that's good.
(oops, sorry, ignore me, can't delete this - back to AvidlyCurious's crimson silk sheets...)
A very respectful kiss for my new friend Molly.
The most orgasmic piece of music I know is the love duet from the end of Act I of Puccini's Madama Butterfly. Long slow build, swelling, receding, rebuilding, gradually rising up to the point where both singers are holding a high C over an earth-shattering dominant 13th which, even when it breaks, does so onto a suspended supertonic which just prolongs the ecstasy. (My wife and I sometimes make love with this is on in the background. If we time it right, well...!)
I don't know how you'd surpass this text, though:
Trema, brilla ogni favilla
col baglior d'una pupilla!
Oh! quanti occhi fissi, attenti
d'ogni parte a riguardar!
Via l'angoscia dal tuo cor
ti serro palpitante. Sei mia.
Vieni, guarda: dorme ogni cosa!
Tutto estatico d'amor ride il ciel!
Vien! sei mia!
(and then the orgasm)
The irony is that Pinkerton is a total douche-bag, and Butterfly is going to get totally fucked over by him - and we know that right from the beginning. We should hate his character - but, like Butterfly, we fall for him, because he sings some of the most sublime music ever written. Ah, the genius of Puccini!
A tongue...
... making a total of two, intertwined...
"How many Marxists does it take to change a light bulb?"
"None. The light bulb contains the seeds of its own revolution."
Nowhere better than the shower. Although - has anyone had it where you're fucking in the shower, and then the hot water runs out? (Or is that just for those of us who have to deal with antiquated British heating systems...? Maybe other countries actually know how to build houses properly...)