It’s only sex.
Almost everyone has it — frequently and for fun; it’s one of the defining features of our species — so it should be all over the art we make. It should be as strange and varied as it is in life, i.e. endlessly so. It may as well be sexy. And since it’s art, it should be beautiful.
In other words, sex should play as wide a range of roles in art as violence.
It strikes me as pitifully sad to have to put it in those terms.