Quotes About Sensuality

Then, eyes closed, she brushed the smooth side of it soft across her lips. It was a tender, thoughtful motion. It was nothing like a kiss.

Her lips were red. Not the garish painted red so many women believe makes them desirable. Her lips were always red, morning and night. As if minutes before you saw her, she had been eating sweet berries, or drinking heart's blood.

She took another step. The simple motion of her moving leg was like a dance, the unexaggerated shifting of her hip entrancing as a fire. The arch of her bare foot said more of sex than anything I'd seen in my young life.

Hacía avanzar la canción despacio, pero no pesadamente. La tocaba con la lentitud de un beso lujurioso. Y no es que en esa época de mi vida yo supiera mucho de besos. Pero viéndola allí de pie, con los brazos alrededor del arpa, concentrada, con los ojos entrecerrados y los labios ligeramente fruncidos, supe que quería que algún día me besaran con ese cuidado lento y deliberado.

Tus labios son como copos de nieve en mis labios.

A veces la seducción lenta es la única manera..." Felurian

It is easier to understand if you think of it in terms of music. Sometimes a man enjoys a symphony. Elsetimes he finds a jig more suited to his taste. The same holds true for lovemaking. One type is suited to the deep cushions of a twilight forest glade. Another comes quite naturally tangled in the sheets of narrow beds upstairs in inns. Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.

The hot tips of her breasts brush my chest.

With one glance he had got himself trapped in the brown fundament of her eyes, he was in danger of sinking, as if into a soft, brown swamp, and he had to close his own eyes for a second to get out of it..

The odour of humans is always a fleshly odour – that is, a sinful odour.

The odour of humans is always a fleshy odour — that is, a sinful odour.

She was indeed a girl of exquisite beauty. She was one of those languid women made of dark honey smooth and sweet and terribly sticky.

And the eye became a body, the murky heart of a rose. The sinister shadow of an orchid. Or the indolent poppy balanced behind the ear of Baudelaire.

Then, without any warning, we both straightened up, turned towards each other, and began to kiss. After that, it is difficult for me to speak of what happened. Such things have little to do with words, so little, in fact, that it seems almost pointless to try to express them. If anything, I would say that we were falling into each other, that we were falling so fast and so far that nothing could catch us.

I hear her slip into bed with him, and I hear everything that happens after that. Sex is such a strange and sloppy business, why bother to recount every slurp and moan that ensued? Tom and Honey deserve their privacy, and for that reason I will end my report of the night's activities here. If some readers object, I ask them to close their eyes and use their imaginations.

Se pregunta si las palabras no serán un elemento esencial de la sexualidad, si hablar no es en definitiva una forma más sutil de acariciar, y si las imágenes que bailan en nuestra cabeza no son igual de importantes que los cuerpos que abrazamos.

I fuck like an overturned guppy.

I fuck like an upturned guppy.

Absinthe is the only decent drink that suits an artist.

To speak a language that was as intimate and free as certain dreams, saying darkly, thrillingly, My cock inside of you. Your come in my mouth ... He focused on the boy's slim, tight hips; with the tip of his tongue he tasted an asshole's bitter, forbidden mystery.

flesh had become a frequent component of the revues

Strolling, I felt the dark tug at me, and a pleasant itch to be out of my dress, out of my skin even.

Kiss her until she be wearied out,' " Denys repeated. "That's the best bit, isn't it, and Berkeley does it so well.

All I knew of men beyond farm life and work were the warm, confusing thoughts I sometimes had late at night now, about being touched or taken, thoughts that could make my cheeks hot even when I was alone in my hut.