Quotes About Intimacy

If you love it enough, anything will talk with you." —G. W. CARVER

Was this the stuff married life would be made of, two people making way for the confounding spectacle of the other, bewildered and slightly afraid?

The sharing of simple meals and discussing the day's events, of waking up together with plans for the future, things that feel practically bacchanalian when you're used to being on your own.

Cuando mi piel recuperó un tono uniforme, dormí con otro hombre y descubrí, al ver mis manos torpemente tiradas en la sábana a ambos lados de mi cuerpo, que había olvidado qué hacer con ellas.

When my skin had gone back to its even tone I slept with another man and discovered, my hands lying awkwardly on the sheet at either side of me, that I had forgotten what to do with them. I'm responsible and an adult again, full time. What remains is that my sensation thermostat has been thrown out of whack; it's been years and sometimes I wonder whether my body will ever again register above lukewarm.

By the time the utter predictability of my orgasm sank into my brain, it had, of course, long been familiar to my body. There was no mistaking the power this man had over me. Like a well-made windup toy, whenever he set me in motion I came. Moods of wanting or not wanting to make love were moods I remembered as from a book. It was not a matter of insatiability but one of inevitability of response. He did what he did and then I always, inevitably, finally came. Only the preludes varied.

What are friends for, but to help each other get through bad times and have multiple orgasms?

He shouldn't want to see her, but he did. He shouldn't want to know how she felt, how she tasted, but he did. He shouldn't want to know what food she liked or what she thought about when she was alone. He shouldn't want to know what her favorite music was or what she did when she wasn't modeling, if she did anything at all, but he did. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Razel D'Punz; the real Razel. No makeup. No costumes. No lights or camera.

Ever since I saw you"—she pulled me closer and draped both of my legs over her shoulders. Her eyes blazed with hunger—"I have just wanted to eat you up.

Don't you like them?" She ran her fingers across the waistband of her panties. "I'm afraid I can't appreciate them in such low lighting. You will have to take them off and let me have a better look." He tried to smile innocently. She rested her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly. "Very well. I will have to do it for you." He took a step closer to her.

I have. You. For Life. Bonded. Not Bonded. Fuck the details. I just want to be with you, Clare.

She had never been so affected by the idea of intimacy, but there was something about his eyes; something warm, and gentle even though she felt transparent every time he turned his attention on her; like he could see her, really see her. The idea of being so exposed to someone…it took her breath away.

His mouth whispered over hers, destroying her defences and rebuilding all her dreams.

Love is special, and anyone who gives you their heart is giving you a part of them.

I wants us to be real. I want to be just you and me. - Ryan

Josh pulls me aside. "Hey, About before, I just... I wanted to say ... well, I think you're pretty special." He says, kind of stumbling over the words a little. Like he's hesitant to say them, now i wish he'd hug me again. And then kiss me. But he doesn't. He just waves and walks off. I sigh. "Hannah, I just... I want you to know if I pause alot when I tell you how special you are I want you to think that I'm... very... very... deep," Finn says

Then I heard someone laugh. I wished I didn't know whose laugh it was, but I knew Will's laugh just like I knew he had a small scar right above his left elbow. You couldn't be reluctantly lust-ridden for someone without noticing stuff about them.

Because I-I'm someone who wants to kiss you. Be with you." Eli says as if it is obvious, as if I know what is written on his heart.

This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple is is, and how amazing.

Well as much as I'm sure the people next door who are pretending they aren't looking at me would like to hear what I have to say, I'd rather say it to just you.

This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple it is, and how amazing.

The sun flitered in through the small, dirty windows, catches his eyes. They are brown, ordinary, but the way he looks at me—no one has ever looked at me like he does. He looks at me like he sees something. Someone. Me. "All right," he says, and puts his hands behind his head. "Go ahead.

I know I should say he suddenly seemed vulnerable and I felt a connection to his soul or whatever, but the truth is I just wanted to tackle him and then make out for the next three thousand years.

I see it in his eyes, he has eyes you can see everything in, and I say, "Morgan," my voice as quiet as the ghost I am supposed to be.