"thursday, i slept with my girlfriend. she likes to wear a blindfold during sex. she always carries around a piece of cloth in her airline overnight bag just for that purpose.

not my thing, really, but she looks so cute blinfolded like that, i can't very well object. we're all human, after all, and everybody´s got something a little off somewhere"

     The fall of the roma empire, the 1881 indian uprising, Hitler's invasion of Poland, the realm of  raging winds, from The elephant vanishes, Haruki Murakami

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"she was pretty drunk at this time, and so was i. at eleven, i accompanied her to her apartment, where we had sex as a matter of course, the way they give you a cushion and a cup of tea at an inn.
"put the light out", she said, so i did. from her window you could see a big nikon ad tower. a tv next door was blasting the day's pro-baseball results. what with the darkness and my drunknness, i hardly knew what i was doing. you  couldn't call it sex. i just moved my penis and discharged some semen.
as soon as the moderately abbreviated act was finished, she went to sleep as if she couldn't wait any longer to be unconscious. without even bothering to wipe up properly, i got dressed and left. the hardest thing was picking out my polo shrt and underpants from among her stuff in the dark."

Family affair, from The elephant vanishes, Haruki Murakami

"Afternoon sex was the best sex of all, Ann thought. morning sex she'd had enough of in her time: usually it meant, "sorry about last night but here it is anyway"; and sometimes it meant, "this'll make sure you don't forget me today"; but neither attitude charmed her. Evening sex was, well, your basic sex, wasn't it? it was the sex which could vary from enveloping happiness via sleepily given consent to an edgy, "look, this is what we came to bed early for, so why don't we just get on with it." Evening sex was as good or as indifferent, and certainly as unpredictable, as sex could be. But afternoon sex -that was never just a courteous way to round things off; it was keen, intended sex. and sometimes it whispered to you, in a curious way (and even though you were married), "this is what we're doing now, and i still want to spend the evening with you afterwards." afternoon sex gave you unexpected comforts like that".

Before she met me, Julian Barnes

“But why should you be interested in me?" 

Good question. I can’t explain it myself right this moment. But maybe – just maybe – if we start getting together and talking, after a while something like Francis Lai’s soundtrack music will start playing in the background, and a whole slew of concrete reasons why I’m interested in you will line up out of nowhere. With luck, it might even snow for us.” 

  After Dark, Haruki Murakami

"i WOULD have been yours. you SHOULD have to know it."

"now, let me ask you: do you have any idea what i would like to do right now?"

"i can't imagine."

"well, first of all, i want to lie down in a big, wade, fluffy bed. i want to get all comfy and drunk and not have any donkey shit anyway nearby, and i want to have you lying down next to me. and then, little by little, you take off my clothes. sooo tenderly. the way a mother undresses a little child. sooo softly."

"hmmm..."

"and i'm just spacing out  and feeling really nice until, all of a sudden i realize what's happening and i yell at you "Stop it, Watanabe" and then i say "i really like you, Watanabe, but i'm seeing someone else. i can't do this. i'm very proper about these things, believe or not, so please stop. but you don't stop."

"but i would stop", i said.

"i know that. never mind, this is just my fantasy", said Midori. "So then you show it to me. your thing. sticking right up. i immediately cover my eyes, of course, but i can't help seeing it for a split second. and i say, "stop it! don't do that! i don't want anything so big and hard!."

"it's not big. just ordinary."

"never mind, this is a fantasy. so then you put on this really sad face, and i feel sorry for you and try to confort you. there there, poor thing."

"and you are telling me that's what you want to do now"?

"that's it."

"oh, boy."

Norwegian wood, Haruki Murakami