Ten Things That May Indicate You're Writing a McLoveScene
Gimme Three Steps: When carrying the heroine off to the bedroom, the hero never stumbles, trips, complains about how heavy she is or aggravates his old back injury. If the heroine is somewhat unwilling to be dragged off to the bedroom, she will pummel the hero's chest (fiercely) with her small fists. The heroine is of course light as a feather, and completely unable to stop the hero from carrying her off to their love nest, even if she's six-five and works as Shaquille O'Neal's personal trainer.
I Can't Get No: The hero never jumps the gun toward the finish line. If he does, it is a one-time-only problem for which he immediately blames the heroine, usually for being so sexy that she made him lose control. The hero then proceeds to round two, for which he is instantly prepared and which always lasts several hours if not the rest of the night and part of the next morning.
Magical First: No matter if the novel takes place in a demilitarized zone, on Mt. Everest, in a submarine stuck in an ocean-bottom trench or an alien world about to be destroyed by nuke-hurling insects, as soon as the black moment is over and true love has finally been mutually declared, the hero and heroine are whisked off to have a 24-hour romp o' the heart in a real bed with satin sheets while surrounded by candles, soft music and erotic foods such as strawberries and champagne. The sex is always fantastic/mind-blowing/better than could be imagined in wildest-class dreams. No one bothers them, either.
Medical Confessions: Regardless of how long the hero and heroine have known each other, they will not discuss any tests they have taken for STDs until precisely two minutes before they have sex. Both will promise to each other that they are healthy; neither will provide lab slips or medical records to prove it.
Not Yet, Baby: Counting from the first page of the novel, there are at least two, preferably three scenes where the hero and heroine almost have sex before some annoying reason forces them to come to their senses and string the reader along for another hundred pages before they actually do the nasty.
Oh God We Must, Or...: The heroine discovers that because of an ancient curse/misfired spell/magic gone wild that if she doesn't have sex at once with the last man on earth she would ever have sex with (this would be the hero) that the city/country/planet will be destroyed.
Ouchee: Upon initiation of foreplay, the heroine will discover that certain parts of her anatomy have swelled like ripe melons while others parts have mysteriously shrunk like a wool sweater in boiling water. The former will happen the moment the hero bares said melons, the latter will have occurred gradually over the last ten years while she wasn't having sex with anyone.
Snap, Crackle, Pop Her: After much kissing, petting and stripping, at the very last possible moment the unprotected heroine makes a panting or strangle-voiced plea for birth control, at which time the hero impatiently wrestles a "foil packet" out of the back pocket of his jeans. The heroine is then startled and moderately dismayed that the hero came prepared to have sex with her.
Speech Impediments: At the beginning of the love scene the heroine protests (lightly) then caves in (totally) and spends the remainder of the scene not speaking but making a lot of respiratory noises (whispering, whimpering, sighing, moaning, etc.) The hero is incoherent and only mutters explicit words into the heroine's ear or under his breath, or simply grunts his way through the entire scene.
You Will Still Love Me Tomorrow: After making love, neither the hero or heroine smokes a cigarette, takes a shower, changes into their pajamas or eats a bowl of cereal and milk while watching and chuckling through the last half hour of Leno. There is never any post-coital depression or doubt; the act cements their relationship forever while instantly destroying their desire for nicotine, non-sweaty skin, their SpongeBob nightie or their midnight Cocoa Puffs fix.