Quotes About Sensuality

As he held her and tasted her, and as she curved in further and further toward him, with her own lips, new to herself, drowned and engulfed in love, yet solaced and triumphant, he was thankful to have an existence at all, if only as a reflection in her wet eyes.

Her beauty was cool as this damp breeze, as the moist softness of her own lips.

They kiss—definitely and thoroughly.)

The kiss originated when the first male reptile licked the first female reptile, implying in a subtle, complimentary way that she was as succulent as the small reptile he had for dinner the night before.

She had been kissed once and made love to six times.

Nothing had ever felt so young as her lips.

Cloaked by the erotic darkness she exhausted the future quickly, with all the eventualities that might lead up to a kiss, but with the kiss itself as blurred as a kiss in pictures.

and there would be more drunkenness than wine in the softness of her eyes on his.

A chi poteva interessare, in quella calura, di chi fossero le labbra ardenti che aveva baciato, quale tersa avesse inumidito la tasca del pigiama sul suo cuore!

He was remembering too vividly the youth and freshness of her lips.

They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her finger, gently, as though she were asleep.

They stopped thinking with an almost painful relief, stopped seeing; they only breathed and sought each other. They were both in the gray gentle world of a mild hangover of fatigue when the nerves relax in bunches like piano strings, and crackle suddenly like wicker chairs. Nerves so raw and tender must surely join other nerves, lips to lips, breast to breast…

He seduces her because she is slipping away - she lets herself be seduced because of overwhelming admiration. Once settled, it is sensual, breathless, immediate, then gentle and tender for a while.

As he helf her and tasted her, and she curved in further and further toward him, with her own lips, new to herself, drowned and engulfed in love, yet solaced and triumphant, he was thankful to have an existence at all, if only as a reflection in her wet eyes.

Daisy chantonnait avec l'orchestre, un murmure voilé, cadencé, et elle donnait à chaque mot un sens qu'il n'avait jamais eu, qu'il n'aurait jamais plus. Quand la mélodie montait vers l'aigu, sa voix se brisait doucement, pour reprendre aussitôt sur un ton plus bas, un ton de contralto, et l'air se chargeait, à chaque variation, d'une exquise bouffée de chaleur humaine.

mas carregava o excesso de carne com sensualidade, como algumas mulheres.

Suddenly he felt an overwhelming desire to let himself go to the devil -- not to go violently as a gentleman should, but to slip safely and sensuously out of sight.

She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can.

Isabella was quite stirred; she wound her handkerchief into a tight ball, and by the faint light that streamed over her, dropped it deliberately on the floor. Their hands touched for an instant, but neither spoke. Silences were becoming more frequent and more delicious.

Nothing would bother me more than if they found me strange at the office. I like to revel in the irony that they don't find me at all strange. I like the hair shirt of being regarded by them as their equal. I like the crucifixion of being considered no different. THere are martyrdoms more subtle than those recorded for the saints and hermits. There are torments of our mental awareness as there are of the body and of desire. And in the former, as in the latter, there's a certain sensuality.....

Then his lips cease on the other lips cold sloth.

We hear death in words they speak to express sensual bliss. We read sensuality and life in words they drop from their lips without the slightest intention of being profound.

Dá a surpresa de ser. É alta, de um louro escuro. Faz bem só pensar em ver Seu corpo meio maduro. Seus seios altos parecem (Se ela tivesse deitada) Dois montinhos que amanhecem Sem ter que haver madrugada. E a mão do seu braço branco Assenta em palmo espalhado Sobre a saliência do flanco Do seu relevo tapado. Apetece como um barco. Tem qualquer coisa de gomo. Meu Deus, quando é que eu embarco? Ó fome, quando é que eu como ?

I'd like the reading of this book to leave you with the impression of continual tedium in a sensual nightmare.