John Cleland, Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (1749)
“ He is now in bed with me the first time, and in broad day; but when thrusting up his own shirt and my shift, he laid his naked glowing body to mine——— Oh insupportable delight! oh superhumane rapture! what pain could stand before a pleasure so transporting? I felt no more the smart of my wounds below; but curling round him like the tendril of a vine, as if I fear'd any part of him should be untouch'd or unpress'd by me, I return'd his strenuous embraces and kisses with a fervour and gust only known to true love, and which mere lust could never rise to. ”

