Quotes About Sensuality

With that she moved in between them and shortly was enjoying being the middle layer of a triple layer orgy.

This is what the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr talked about as "the sin of sensuality." And it's what the Hindus talk about as maya—the dance of illusion, the intoxicating (addictive) dance of sensuous things that enchants and enthralls the mind, catching us up in the cycles of pleasure and pain.

The harder the dick the funner the sex

The gift is contact, sensuality: you will be touching what I have touched, a third skin unites us.

Every contact, for the lover, raises the question of an answer: the skin is asked to reply.

Her breasts rested on the edge of the table.

chest, pressing damp cotton against her skin, the ball of his thumb down in her cleavage. Not a tender gesture.

We tore each other's clothes off like they were on fire. She was gorgeous. Firm and strong and a shape like a dream. Skin like silk. She pulled me to the floor through bars of hot sunlight from the window. It was frantic. We were rolling and nothing could have stopped us. It was like the end of the world. We shuddered to a stop and lay gasping. We were bathed in sweat. Totally spent.

It's okay, you can do it. Because I am playing with myself as I write this, I hope you're doing the same as you read it. Otherwise there's not much point. Go ahead. Don't be shy or modest, prudish or self-conscious. That's it. It feels nice, doesn't it?

Though little had actually happened to Susannah the car smelled of lovemaking.

Intellectual passion drives out sensuality.

You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood...

Desire followed the glance, pleasure followed desire

So," Wanda cried, "a woman in furs is nothing more than a large cat, a charged electric battery?

Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair. He will paint her, and go mad.

I imagine that the goddess of Love has come down from Olympus to visit a mortal. So as not to die of cold in this modern world of ours, she wraps her sublime body in great heavy furs and warms her feet on the prostrate body of her lover. I imagine the favorite of this beautiful despot, who is whipped when his mistress grows tired of kissing him, and whose love only grows more intense the more he is trampled underfoot. I shall call the picture Venus in Furs

There's no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I'm not falling into any vision. It's his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more.

It's only his thumb brushing slowly across the lower edge of my lip, but it's as if time slows and the sweep of that thumb below my mouth takes forever. It is no spell that I know of, but it holds such magic, I can scarcely breath. He pulls his hand away fast, aware of what he's done. But his touch lingers.

Theta's hand slid just slightly toward Memphis's. He inched his forward, too, just grazing the tips of her fingers with his.

He took her face into his hands and his kiss blotted out the sky

We do not read in order to turn great works of fiction into simplistic replicas of our own realities, we read for the pure, sensual, and unadulterated pleasure of reading.

You see? he asked, his voice softening to a velvety punas he felt her tremble. His warm breath stirred her hair. All I have to do is touch you. It's the same for me, Faith. I don't like this worth a damn, but by God, I want you, and we're going to do something about it.

I'm really not hungry," she repeated, lifting the coffee cup and inhaling the fragrant steam before sipping. "Just a few bites," he cajoled, taking his own place beside her. "You need to keep up your strength for tonight." She gave him a heated, slumberous look, remembering her fantasy. "Why? Are you planning something special?" "I suppose I am," he said consideringly. "It's special every time we make love.

By morning, she was raw and sore, and knew walking would be an effort. By morning, she could barely remember what it had been like to not know his body, not to have felt him inside her and held him in her arms and absorbed the power of his thrusts as he came. By morning, she was his.