I see Tom Wolfe has been given the Bad Sex in Fiction Award for passages in his latest novel 'I am Charlotte Simmons'. The prize is awarded for crude, tasteless sexual depictions in literature. Here's a taste of what the dapper razor-witted-kid-gloved-white-suited-great-grandpappy of the 'New Journalism' and author of 'The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test', 'The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby', 'Radical Chic & Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers' and other journalistic gems is churning out these days:

Slither slither slither slither went the tongue, but the hand that was what she tried to concentrate on, the hand, since it has the entire terrain of her torso to explore and not just the otorhinolaryngological caverns. Oh God, it was not just at the border where the flesh of the breast joins the pectoral sheath of the chest no, the hand was cupping her entire right - Now! She must say 'No, Hoyt' and talk to him like a dog ...

Down boy. Back in your basket.