Quotes About Sensuality

How can I tell you what that ancient, absurd, wonderful rite, when her lips touch mine, does to me? What formula can I use to express this whirlwind that sweeps everything out of my soul except her?

but this girl simply let my hands gather on her own small, plump hands, like flies gathering on someone who is taking a nap.

Cuando la intimidad carnal se viste con la dignidad de una indumentaria como la que llevaban los dos esa tarde, engendra una tensión contenida tal que parece que los cuerpos, aguantando el aliento, estuvieran llamándose el uno al otro. Es lo que se llama la 'filosofía del atuendo'.

Sim, ele dormia, acordava, e as vezes, até fazia suas refeições ali dentro. Nesse estranho quarto sem janelas, esse quarto onde os ventos jamais sopravam e as árvores jamais rumorejavam, um quarto com ares de caixão, a tumba onde ele foi enterrado vivo. Ele escolhera viver em um caixão mesmo antes de ter sido assassinado. Um quarto de prazeres e de morte, envolto no perfume duradouro de mulher e o odor de seu próprio corpo.

Me siento responsable de la carne de esta mujer, pues me desgarra dulcemente como lo hacen otras cosas que son mías. Me estremece la dulzura de su presencia: cuando me sienta temblar se volcará como la hoja de un árbol sacudido por el viento y dejará que yo vea el lado vacío de sus ojos.

Inside my skin, loving you, I am this space my body believes in. — Yuself Komunyakaa, from "Unnatural State of the Unicorn," Neon Vernacular: New and Selected Poems . (Wesleyan University Press 1993)

Boys are just boys after all, but sometimes girls really seem to be the turn of a pale wrist, or the sudden jut of a hip, or a clutch of very dark hair falling across a freckled forehead. I'm not saying that's what they really are. I'm just saying sometimes it seems that way, and that those details (a thigh mole, a full face flush, a scar the precise shape and size of a cashew nut) are so many hooks waiting to land you.

With women the best part is the discovery. There's nothing like the first time, nothing. You don't know what life is until you undress a woman the first time. A button at a time, like peeling a hot sweet potato on a winter's night.

All women are lips, nothing but lips.

Kiss me, lover. One darling kiss.

Goodnight dear. If you were in my bed it might be the back of your head I was touching, where the hair is short, or it might be up in the front where it makes little caves above your head. But wherever it was, it would be the sweetest place, the sweetest place.

Words could never express the infinite sadness of a used condom, removed from your already half-limp dick by an expert hand, which then strangles it with a precise, automatic gesture.

He could never have enough of Eva. The heat of her, this hidden wild woman who was his alone. That they were both fully dressed but bare in the most important places only sharpened his excitement.

Only one kiss. That was what he had intended. But Ciera's lips were sweet like the juice of a pomegranate, and her skin under his hands felt like velvet. When she put her arms around him, he deepened the kiss, pulling the pins out of her hair until it cascaded over her shoulders. The tiny jingle of the bits of metal falling to the floor was almost lost in the moan she let out when he moved his lips down her neck, and then he was lost too.

Hold on." He reaches back, his hand momentarily grazing my thigh. I lean into him, my arms tighten around his waist as the waves bounce up and down. We're skin to skin, two bodies melded together into one. I want to stay where I am with him, in the water, forever.

It smelt of coconut ice cream and sweat and the Mediterranean sea. I

Beautiful breath beautiful breath beautiful breath. I loved every part of her.

Reading was only part of the thrill that a book represented. I got a dizzy pleasure from the weight and feel of a new book in my hand, a sensual delight from the smell and crispness of the pages. I loved the smoothness and bright colors of their jackets. For me, a stacked, unread pyramid of books was one of the sexiest architectural designs there was, because what I loved most about books was their promise, the anticipation of what lay between the covers, waiting to be found.

She shoved open his shirt, then wrenched his undershirt from his trousers and scrunched it up to his armpits with a quick strokes. Lips parting, she swept her gaze from his torso to his eyes. Jaw clamped against the spasm, he managed a wink. "Not bad for a dying man, huh?

I do want lots of things, most of which are under your dress.

The fact is that she was terribly undressed and I was extremely undressed too. The fact is that I still had my hand where she didn't have anything and she had hers where the same wasn't quite true of me. The fact is that I found myself underneath her and consequently she found herself on top of me.

His hat nudged her forehead, tipping back as he deepened the kiss and drew her closer. His jaw was rough against her palm, and she savored the feel of it before slipping her fingers through the soft waves at his nape and straight up through the back of his hair. His hat hit the ground. "Abby . . ." he whispered. It was a plea, and she gladly answered it with her mouth. She loved the raspy drawl of her shortened name on his lips.

A curly wisp of hair had come loose from her updo, kissing the side of her face. Seth longed to brush it behind her ear, to feel the silky smoothness of her skin under the pad of his thumb. He clenched his fist before he followed through and got his hand smacked away.

And on our lips the blood of berries before we kiss