Quotes About Sensuality

I'm gonna make love to you like fifteen men.

He reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my fingertips. "I love you.

The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.

Adam lay perfectly still, little groans escaping from his lips. I looked at the bow, looked at my hands, looked at Adam's face and felt this surge of love, lust, and an unfamiliar feeling of power.

All paraphrases and expletives are so much in disuse that soon the only way of making love will be to say, "Lie down.

I love the smell of a mans skin.

You've got to try this," I told Bones, handing him the glass. "It's like Cristal and O-Negative had a love child.

I think of making love and making art as being very parallel. Even the most amateur attempt can be thrilling.

I am going to love you now, slow and sweet, but when you come, I'm going to f*** you the way I need to. The way I've been dreaming about since the moment I saw you.

You ought to pity me 'cause there's always one man to love/ But in the bedroom the size of him's more than enough.

I love this idea of trying to create that intellectual eroticism. That was what I was working toward all along.

On the other hand, a flaccid, moping, debauched mollusc, tired from too much love and loose-nerved from general world conditions, can be a shameful thing served raw upon the shell.

I think love resides in all of the songs, even when they are overtly sexual.

I love a good Slash guitar riff. It's sexy!

His mouth is on me, his hands, I can't wait and he's moving, already, love, it's been so long, I'm alive in my skin, again, arms around him, falling and water softly everywhere, never-ending.

Romance is one of the sacred temples that dot the landscape of life.

The egg, you see, is a very sexy thing. Egg is like birth. Eggshell is sexy. Egg yolk is definitely sexy. Oh, I love egg.

I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue than live and never touch you again.

She was aware that in love even the most passionate idealism will not rid the body's surface of its terrible, basic importance.

Flow into your dancing, circulate the steps into your body, as you would run your fingers through the hair of the one you Love.

down her bare legs. Squirming against him, she issued a weak protest. "No, Jared. Please." His sex

To an American the whole purpose of living, the one constant confirmation of continued existence, is to cram as much as sensual pleasure as possible into one's mouth more or less continuously. Gratification, instant and lavish, is a birthright

her skirt it swayed as the guitar played her mouth it was watery and yet ...

The wise will go upstairs, undo buttons and hair, fold themselves within the covenant of flesh and make love wilder than any weather. — Bob Hicok, from "Weather," The Legend of Light (The University of Wisconsin Press, 1995)