By more detail, I was thinking along the lines of this. It's from one of my favorite books, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes.
I don’t pretend to understand the mystery of love, but this time is was more than sex, more than using a woman’s body. I was being lifted off the earth, outside fear and torment, being part of something greater than myself. I was lifted out of the dark cell of my own mid, to become part of someone else—just as I had experienced it that day on the couch in therapy. It was the first step outward to the universe—beyond the universe—because in it and with it we merged to recreate and perpetuate the human spirit. Expand and bursting outward, and contracting and forming inward, it was the rhythm of being—of breathing, of heartbeat, of day and night—and the rhythm of our bodies set off an echo in my mind. It was the way it had been back there in that strange vision. The grey murk lifted from my mind, and through it the light pierced into my brain (how strange the light should blind!), and my body was absorbed back into a great sea of space, washed under a strange baptism. My body shuddered with grieving, and her body shuddered its acceptance.
This way was the way we loved, until the night became a silent day. And as I lay there with her I could see how important physical love was, how necessary it was for us to be in each other’s arms, giving and taking. The universe was exploding, each particle away from the next, hurtling us into dark and lonely space, eternally tearing us away from each other—child out of the womb, friend away from friend, moving from each other, each through his own pathway toward the goal-box of solitary death.
But this was the counterweight, the act of binding and holding. As when men to keep from being swept overboard in the storm clutch at each other’s hands to resist being torn apart, so out bodies fused a link in the human chain that kept us from being swept into nothing.
And in the moment before I fell off into sleep, I remembered the way it had been between Fay and myself, and I smiled. No wonder that had been easy. It had been only physical. This with Alice was a mystery.
I leaned over and kissed her eyes.
Alice knows everything about me now, and accepts the fact that we can be together for only a short while. She has agreed to go away when I tell her to go. It’s painful to think about that, but what we have, I suspect, is more that most people find in a lifetime.
That is what I mean by more detail.