Quotes About Sensuality

Tell me you don't feel what I feel when I hold you. Tell me you don't tremble when I touch you, he whispered huskily, and then try to tell me you don't want me to make love to you.

Life is, after all, a sensual experience. Our senses have the power to truly transport us but also to ground us. Make us human.

LESBIANS are women who prefer their own ways to male ways. LESBIANS prefer the convoluting halls of sensuality to direct goal-pursuing mores. LESBIANS have made a small world deep within and separated from the world. What has usually been called the world is the male world.

Some folks like trains, some folks like ships, I like the way you move you hips All I want is a taste of your lips, boy, All I want is a taste of your lips.

Intense sexual desire is the best thing in the world.

One day she yelled, You're always naked except for that bunch of skulls around your neck. In which maggots're living. That you never take off. And you're odoriferous. In a bad way. You think that death's sexy, that's why you stink most of the time; of rot and foul, fetid fur, but you smell worst when you're about to come.

Derek looked around, like he was searching for something to use. Then he stripped off his shirt. I tried not to look away. Not that he looked bad without his shirt. The opposite, actually, which is why...Let's just say friends are really better when they're fully clothed.

I lifted onto my toes, put my hands aroung his neck, and pulled him down. When our lips met, that first jolt... It was everything I hadn't felt with Simon, everything I wanted to feel. His hands went around my waist, pulling me closer--

I leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes widened, then his lips parted and he kissed me back, mouth warm and firm against mine and that floating feeling washed over me and through me, and it was so amazing that when it ended, I just stayed there, my face so close to his I could feel his breath, see those incredible amber eyes, and that was all I could see, all I wanted to see.

Sex, a switchblade, and motorcycle lessons. You really are making sure my night ends on a high note.

As my hair fell free, Cortez entwined his fingers in it and kissed me even harder. Then he slipped one hand from my hair and snapped his fingers over our heads. The lights went out.

I eased forward and leaned up to his ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He chuckled. "Mmm, I'd better not answer that." His gaze traveled down me, then zipped back to my face. "Sorry." "Focus, Rafe." "I am. Just on the wrong thing.

When I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one arm going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.

When I bumped into him, I said a polite, "Hey," and tried to get past. "Hey, yourself." He grinned and, in spite of myself, I felt a little flip in my stomach. Rafe wasn't gorgeous, but he had a sexy, crooked smile and eyes that looked at a girl like she was the first one he'd ever seen. When he stood close, I swore I could feel heat radiating off him. And Rafe always stood close.

I ran my tongue along the top of his underwear, letting it slide underneath. Then i shifted my body forward, lips moving back up his chest, until i was straddling him again.

One minute we were sitting up, making out. The next we were lying on the roof, and I was on top of him, and I didn't know how I got there. I was kissing him and then, all of a sudden, I wasn't. He was holding my face in his hands, poised above his, as he panted softly, his pupils so huge I could drown in them. "Hate to ask," he said, struggling for breath. "How much did you drink?

I'm just borrowing him––I don't want him to leave his wife. I'm glad he's married. Let someone else take care of him. It's the way he smells––the way married men smell. I can smell when a happily married man comes into a room, and they can smell me too, I think. So can the wives––that's why he has to take a shower when he leaves me.

She now welcomed him to her bedroom, dressed in pretty nightwear, offering him her scented body as she had when they were first married. In the end she was a well-brought-up aristocratic woman and she knew what a wife was for.

He slipped his hand inside her coat and touched her through the soft linen of her dress. Her body was warm. He held her breast in his palm, small and round. He loved the way her flesh yielded to the press of his fingertips. He had never seen her naked, but he knew her breasts intimately. In his dreams they went farther.

She was suddenly aware of her own skin: she could feel the roughness of her linen undershirt and the soft fur of her boots, and her nipples tingled as they pressed against his chest.

no trace left of the overwhelming physical desire she had once felt for Will's strong body.

He stared at her bare body, but she no longer felt embarrassed—his look inflamed her like an intimate caress.

Perhaps women covered their nakedness to make themselves more alluring, not less. Rosa Hellman

She pressed her body to his. "Kissing you has made me go all hot and slippery inside." He