Quotes About Intimacy

That's the thing about sex. So much of it is just plain awkward, clumsy, are-you-sure-this-is-going-to-fit-I-think-they-forgot-to-include-the-washers.

I felt the warm brush of his fingers pushing the key into mine all the way to my heart. I focused on the key because if I looked up, I'd see what he was feeling. Worse, he'd see what I was feeling -- in a minute what I was feeling was going to be spilling out of me, and it didn't make any sense. It had been over long ago; we had just finally got around to saying good-bye, that was all.

Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

I want that. I don't think a week goes by I don't dream about it. The way it feels to move inside you. The way your body grabs on like tight velvet. The sounds you make, like having me inside you is the best thing that ever happened to you.

It was dark." "I'd know you in the dark, Tucker." Tucker's eyes flashed up to meet Elliot's. He said curtly. "Yeah. I'd know you too.

You remember asking me if I'd ever begged?' I wiped the corner of my eyes, sniffed. 'Is this about to get kinky?'

I cracked the window shades of my eyes. Jake knelt over me, the head of my cock in his mouth. I raised my head, mumbled, "What are you doing?" He paused the proceedings long enough to utter, "If you don't know, I must not be doing it correctly.

You're crazy about me, Elliot ..." "You know how I know, Elliot?" ... "I know how you feel because I feel the same way.

They took turns kissing necks and ears and stubbled chins. He had never found or expected gentleness from Tucker, but here it was, his for the asking. His even if he didn't know how to ask.

Nothing so simple nor yet so intense as a kiss between lovers.

Passionate kisses, the intoxicating exchange of breath and saliva - and something more intimate - something there was no real name for, like a spark catching between us and taking light. How had I forgotten this? How had I been satisfied with anything else? Guy...Mel...it was like choosing celluloid kisses over the real thing. The real thing was raw and powerful and dangerous...but it was the real thing. Had I really believed I could make do with safe substitutes?

Thought of Riordan. Thought of a big hand wrapping around my shaft, sliding up and down, pumping hard...harder. The head of my cock leaked a single salty tear to slick my own hand's efforts. Yikes. Think of Bruce. Yeah. Better. Safer. Saner...

It was a good thing Ridge was mighty fond of Tug or he'd probably have killed him by now. As it was, it had been touch and go for a little while that morning. But killing your lover on Christmas morning was so…so…heterosexual.

Then I got another mental image of him, broad chest covered in blond pelt, muscular forearms, big smooth cock jutting out of a silky nest. Riordan ordering me down on my knees, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulled my head toward his heat. The laugh died in my throat.

I think it was the ChapStick that did it; he tasted like ChapStick and Jack Daniels. That reminder of human vulnerability got to me in a way that polished experience wouldn't have. Not that he had lied about the experience.

He woke with Max's arms wrapped around his torso and Max's genitals soft against his ass. And for the first time in days he wasn't aware of wanting anything but breakfast. Breakfast and Max. Not necessarily in that order.

He smelled like soap and sleep and bare skin. He smelled familiar. Not the deja vu familiar of Guy or Mel. Familiar like... the ache in your chest of homesickness, of longing for harbor after weeks of rough seas or craving a fire's warmth after snow--or wanting back something you should never have given away.

I love you, Kit. I just do." I muttered, "Well, you don't have to sound like it's against your will.

Kit-He said my name again and again.Just...Kit.We held each other tight,rocking,trying to milk the last drops of sensation.Wring the last flashes of lightening.Riders on the storm.

Eyes closed, I murmured, "Are you kissing it better?" "Am I?" "I think so. My lips hurt too.

Did he want to put a cock ring on me or did he fear I wanted to put a wedding ring on him?

Jake sapeva di bourbon e dolore. Aprii la bocca alla sua lingua, il suo ruvido velluto che spingeva contro il mio, reclamandomi come io stavo reclamando lui. Quel torrido pomeriggio – le scuri di legno che sbattevano contro il muro, il ronzio delle api fuori dalla finestra, il rumore lontano di un aereo che viaggiava verso luoghi sconosciuti – era solo un altro anello della catena.

Sembrava esserci una strana, dolce continuità in quell'amoreggiare incerto e reverente, eppure, in un certo senso, era come se fosse la prima volta mentre facevamo l'amore tra le rovine dei sogni di Jake. Ed era la prima volta. La prima volta che stavamo insieme senza segreti e restrizioni. Eravamo nudi… in ogni modo possibile.

Not worried about the decor, Brandt. Seriously. Just find us some place where no one you knew from the good old days is going to walk in on us." "The Black Bear Inn it is," Will said (...) "For the record, those weren't the good old days. These days with you, these are the good old days. Right now.