I encountered one in my travels this afternoon, and read it with Jim (notarysojac) who is still home sick.
It was SO bad that it was almost fun to read - I am easily amused by Jim, (who currently sounds like Tom Waites warming up to sing La Grange) clutching his head like a stuuned monkey and muttering *Good Grief* at least once a paragraph (it started before we got anywhere near the NC-17 section, too.)
It's easily in my current top two for headclutching bewilderment. (Jim is currently insisting it deserves the top *honors.*)
There was to be no pillaging of language here.
I don't mind if you decide to go for crude language - just make a choice. (actually, I do mind, but only because it's inappropriate for the fandom) But don't waver between totally clinical and language that would be inappropriate in a back alley when used by two perverts with only one cigar between them.
Obviously, I have no idea of the author's age or gender - and this story did nothing to convince me they have any idea about sex. But I do know that If you think oral sex is going to taste like strawberries, chocolate or cinnamon, I'm afraid you are in for a disappointment somewhere down the line.
But let me get to the point that drove me to recount this. Sir or madame: your heroine does *not* have "golden hair on her vagina," because the vagina is an INTERNAL organ. If you meant vulva, perhaps you should say that. And if, by some stretch of the imagination, you actually meant vagina -- I have no idea how her partner could possibly see that from where she was. But, just..... eeeeewwww.