Sex Quotes - Page 10

Time unslid the knot of any last ribbon of tension.

Some men would not still be HIV negative or alive, if they had managed to sleep with some of the women with whom they want or wanted to have sex.

Sex means nothing--just the moment of ecstasy, that flares and dies in minutes.

Condoms seemed to her inherently wicked. But they were also inherently funny. They were like rubber gloves with only one finger, and every time she saw one she had to be severe with herself or she’d get the giggles, a terrifying thought because the man might think you were laughing at him, at his dick, at its size, and that would be fatal.

How blest am I in this discovering thee!To enter in these bonds is to be free;Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be

Is this different? Does love make lovemaking better? Does Nick feel this holy consummation, this wonder and beauty, this eternity, the way I do? Or is sex simply like this, designed by Nature to fool us all into multiplying?

He kisses me hard, tells me between frenzied kisses, `You feel so good, beautiful, beautiful, sweet girl. Feel how much I want you.' He circles his hips against mine. `I want you like this all the fucking time.

Once you are defiled, you can't get back your purity by any means, instead, you will only look for ways to be defiled over and over again.

I take small, shallow breaths, even though my lungs are begging for more air. I feel the heat of Ten’s controlled breaths against my face. As we stand there, it feels as if an electric charge is growing between us, so powerful that it would shock us if we moved even a millimeter closer together. And yet I feel like I want to.

Some people have contracted HIV during their separate endeavours to give someone or some people a curable STD.

I had a dream about you last night. I was writing a ‘Sex for dummies-Christians That Secretly What to be Porn Stars- 1st edition.’ And you helped me with the illustrations.

Most people give up finding their soul mate, and settle down to just having a flesh mate.

As much as I think about sex, I can only with extreme difficulty conceive of myself actually performing the act. And here's another thing I wonder about. How could you ever look a girl in the eye after you've had your winkie up her wendell? I mean, doesn't that render normal social conversation impossible? Apparently not.

By erasing any nuance and complexity about porn and sexuality, the virginity movement gives young women only two choices of who they can be sexually: sluts or not sluts. While the first choice doesn't seem attractive, I can guarantee you that most young women are going to go with the option that allows them to have sex. And there's no in-between identity for young women who are making smart, healthy choices in their sexual lives.

We did make use, from time to time, of candles, neckties, scarves, shoelaces, a little water-color paintbrush, her hairbrush, butter, whipped cream, strawberry jam, Johnson’s Baby Oil, my Swedish hand vibrator, a fascinating bead necklace she had, miscellaneous common household items, and every molecule of flesh that was exposed to air or could be located with strenuous search.

The sexier the other woman is, the more jealous your wife gets. And that's where slut shaming comes from. When a woman is too sexually attractive, when she's too good at attracting the attention of the opposite sex, other women will shame her for it, because they are afraid she will steal their men.

Making Love is different form having Sex. While the former recharges you with orgasmic experience, the latter dissipates your energy, leaving you sapless. So act wisely!

Why should we take advice on sex from the pope? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn't!

They were looking at videos, and the woman was giggling quietly, as they often do in porn stores, unable to believe what they’re seeing, the monuments men have built to vaginas and to the very notion of sex.

But not you, O girl, nor yet his mother,stretched his eyebrows so fierce with expectation.Not for your mouth, you who hold him now,did his lips ripen into these fervent contours.Do you really think your quiet footstepscould have so convulsed him, you who move like dawn wind?True, you startled his heart; but older terrorsrushed into him with that first jolt to his emotions.Call him . . . you'll never quite retrieve him from those dark consorts.Yes, he wants to, he escapes; relieved, he makes a homein your familiar heart, takes root there and begins himself anew.But did he ever begin himself?

What was marriage but sex plus property.

Internet is puberty of society.

Homosexuality is immutable, irreversible and nonpathological.

Men think it is philanthropy to give away sex.

Amoebas at the start were not complex -They tore themselves apart and started sex.

Even more than music, rock-and-roll is sex.

Strangers when you meet, strangers when you part -a gymnasium of bodies namelessly masturbating each other. People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became swingers. The dead fucking the dead. There was no gamble or humor in their game -it was corpse fucking corpse. Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience down through the centuries. Some morals tended to keep people slaves in factories, in churches and true to the State. Other morals simply made good sense. It was like a garden filled with poisoned fruit and good fruit. You had to know which to pick and eat, which to leave alone.

When you are thirteen, you spend all your time imagining what it would be like to live in a world where you could pay a robot for sex. And that sex would cost a dollar. And the only obstacle to getting that sex would be making sure you had four quarters.Then you grow up and it turns out you do live in that kind of world. A world with coin-operated sexbots. And it's not really as great as you thought it would be.

Sally laughed. "When you first told me you were interested in Decebel, I honestly thought that there was no way you two would ever work. But man, you are both such freaks, I honestly don't think anyone else could put up with either of you.""Or keep up with us." Jen winked.

We had laid down the law : no chocolate, no sex.

It's time to shop high heels if your fiance kisses you on the forehead.

To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.

Using porn to guide sexual activity, is like using Jackass to model behaviour.

I can remember when the air was clean and sex was dirty.

I don't know what you do about sex and I don't want to know, but this is not the way to go about it. You're what – fifty-two? Do you think a young girl finds any pleasure in going to bed with a man of that age? Do you think she finds it good to watch you in the middle of your...? Do you ever think about that?"He is silent."Don't expect sympathy from me, David, and don't expect sympathy from anyone else either. No sympathy, no mercy, not in this day and age. Everyone's hand will be against you, and why not? Really, how could you?"The old tone has entered, the tone of the last years of their married life: passionate recrimination. Even Rosalind must be aware of that. Yet perhaps she has a point. Perhaps it is the right of the young to be protected from the sight of their elders in the throes of passion. That is what whores are for, after all: to put up with the ecstasies of the unlovely.

What is my definition of jazz? 'Safe sex of the highest order.

Promoting promiscuity in this evolved and civilized society is actually like signing the Declaration, that says:“I hereby renounce my membership of humankind, since I am neither human nor kind. I declare that I no longer belong to the modern human species, i.e. the Homo sapiens. From now on I shall be counted among the swingers of the animal kingdom, such as the bonobo or montane vole. I am simply an arrogant philandering savage.

Someone could be paraphilic in both his erotic target and his favorite sex act. I mean, really, any pellismophilic nebulophile (someone whose most passionate moments involve masturbating in the foggy mist while listening to a person stutter) can see that.

We may repeatedly try to get our need for sex or our need for communication met by our partner. If our attempts are met with rejection over and over again, we may eventually stop asking. We tend to give up rather than keep setting ourselves up for regular rejection.

If anybody studying psychology wants a concrete example of what a narcissist looks like, I advise them to consider any man who cheats on his wife. These guys are the textbook me-firsters, the ones who think the rules don't apply to them, the ones who tell themselves as long as she doesn't know, there's no harm done. No woman needs to sleep with these guys. There are so many single self-absorbed narcissists who will fuck you poorly.

...I remember a rainy, depressing afternoon when she remarked 'What a pity we can't make love, there's nothing else to do,' and he agreed that it was and there wasn't.

No amount of wavy blond hair nor evenings spent with her plump lips applying just the right amount of pressure to his various pleasure points could make up for the rotting carcass of a soul that resided beneath all that beauty.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve got in your pants if there is nothing in your brain to connect it to.

It galls me that seeking out the seedy, the sordid, the sexual, and the deviant is the expected (if not altogether acceptable) behavior of male writers; it would surely benefit me, as a writer, if I had the courage to seek out more of the seedy, the sordid, the sexual, and the deviant myself. But women who seek out such things are made to feel ashamed, or else they sound stridently ridiculous in defending themselves -- as if they're bragging. ... Yet there are subjects that remain off-limits for women writers. It's not unlike that dichotomy which exists regarding one's sexual past: it is permissible, even attractive, for a man to have had one, but if a woman has had a sexual past, she'd better keep quiet about it.

Sports is to war as pornography is to sex.

I love doubt in a woman. It's nearly as sexy as determination.

Then she squeezed me tighter. Her leg came up and wrapped around me. Then she kissed me too hard and our teeth banged together. I felt like a boa constrictor’s dinner.

You should smile, look her in the eyes, and give her a small complement when you ask her out.

Isaac dared not move and she did not stir either, both staring up at the canopy above. If he reached over, if he –no, no. It was better to keep a small shield between them, to preserve the little progress they had made in their standoffish, untested relationship, two strangers forced together under impossible circumstances. The last thing he needed was to push her away, to frighten her, to be the brute she’d taken him for. It had been three weeks since they’d been in this very same position and so much had changed and yet so little. A ridiculous, naïve hope drifted into his head before he found sleep: perhaps one day, a long time from now, they would be friends. He would settle for that, if he could have nothing more. Even though he wanted everything.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it? - Emma

I couldn't understand how boldness and sorrow, how you're so hard and do you really care for me? could be so thoroughly bound together. Nor could I begin to fathom how someone so seemingly vulnerable, hesitant, and eager to confide so many uncertainties about herself could, with one and the same gesture, reach into my pants with unabashed recklessness and hold on to my cock and squeeze it.

Among men, sex sometimes results in intimacy; among women, intimacy sometimes results in sex.

Down the rusty bars of ladders to the undergrounds of the night propitious to the first man and woman at the beginning of the world. where there were no words by which to possess each other, no music for serenades, no presents to court with, no tournaments to impress and force a yielding, no secondary instruments, no adornments, necklaces, crowns to subdue, but only one ritual, a joyous, joyous, joyous, joyous, impaling of a woman on a man´s sensual mast

[Being rejected] hurt, 'cause what turned me on in sex was believing that they knew me, that I'd found somebody to understand.

Millions of deaths would not have happened if it weren’t for the consumption of alcohol. The same can be said about millions of births.

She gave her husband such a night of sexual pleasure that his eyes followed her constantly after that, narrow and hot. He grew molten when she passed near other men, and at night they made their own shaking tent. They got teased too much and moved farther off, into the brush, into the nesting ground of shy and holy loons. There, no one could hear them. In solitude they made love until they became gaunt and hungry, pale windigos with aching eyes, tongues of flame.

We’re not having sex, are we?”“No,” Talia confirmed. “Don’t take it the wrong way, you’re by far the nicest insect I’ve ever spent time with, but first contact is one thing. I’m not sure my reputation can take sleeping with the first alien I meet.

Feet shuffled closer then halted when Reeve said, “Touch her, I’ll break your neck.

I never said I liked coffee better than sex. I said I'd had it more.

I can't," I said. "I threw my back out masturbating.