Shunga Silence

I’m turned onto my belly and rebound to the table. Johansen lies on top full length, his Geisha robes streaming behind him and down the side of the table away from the window wall. Penetrating my passage with his cock, he mutters “Three.” A contrast of shock transition ensues of wildly fucking me to passionate cries in a pistoning, thick, deep-penetrating display of athletic prowess for time interminable. He withdraws, his cum flowing across the small of my back, holds, and murmurs the word, “Four.”

By the way he has draped the Geisha robe off to the side away from the glass wall, I understand the wall represents the camera’s view of these Shunga print stills. The stills filmed in silence, the atmospheric music, such as it will be, servicing the transitions from one Shunga “moment” to the next.

I have never before so effectively and tersely been made to understand the director’s vision of how a movie is to be filmed.