I saw the movie version of Venus in Furs, a Polanski film, starring his wife as female lead (only female in the cast, with only one male for her foil), which was damn fine entertainment. As I recall, the script purported to come from some much older text, going back like a couple hundred years.
Of course, as film, the pictures were worth a thousand words apiece, apart from any dialog, so the film is at the same time much more and much less than what the plain text would be like.
Plus plus plus the vocal intonations provide so much of what is missing in text. In dialogue text you get almost zero clues as to intonation, inflection, pauses, pace, facial expression, eye-speak, aura, body language--all of which are a major part of human communication.
The positive side of this is that all these details are left to the reader's imagination, which can be a good thing if the reader has his own ideas of how the scene should play out to best effect. And after all, isn't it the objective with prose to stimulate the imagination?
So what am I saying? I think I'm saying that two bodies, male and female, both in heat, alone together, are the best part of life. To be able to evoke that magic through the limitations of the written word is high art. That's why we should write.
I remember my astonishment, many years ago, while still a schoolboy, when I pondered the fact that squiggles of ink on paper, set down a hundred years ago halfway around the world, could bring a tear to the eye, cause juices to flow or a convulsion to the genital apparatus, not at random but as an intended effect, artfully conceived, cast abroad on the world to spread everywhere, like seed on the wind, looking for fertile minds in which to germinate.
As long as there are humans who can read your language, there is as close as you can come to immortality. Plus, of course, making babies.