Quotes About Sensuality

Versace was and still is about the sophisticated woman who is elegant, not afraid of her own sensuality, and not afraid to dare or take risks in life.

His every syllable flirted. Honestly, he kind of turned me on. I didn't even know that guys could turn me on-not, like, in real life

Ranije je koristila neku ?aroliju zvanu Paprat u sutonu. Bilo je kao udisanje Šopena i Edne Milej, i kad bi se taj miomiris širio s njene kose i ramena, znao sam da je zastava podignuta i da želi da bude osvojena.

Between skin and skin, there is only light.

I don't love dolls. I love women. I love their bodies.

a sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing ...

I wish I could tell the tale of your beauty as my rough hands caress your face...

take off your sweater in the darkness and static flares as a tiny lightning storm - I am the same at the end of your fingertips ...

There is never a penis that is as comfortable hard as it is soft in a pair of jeans.

If the birds sing, the nudes are not far off.

You are my winter suddenness—a glass of red wine spilt across a white tablecloth

Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degreesHer rich attire creeps rustling to her knees.

Oh Ellie, doesn't it make your mouth water?" "It makes me water all right," I said crudely. "But not from my mouth.

She twists like a flame. Her back, a sierra of bone, her hips, a sandstone canyon. And I can believe her gaze, born from a thousand years dreaming and as dew-cool as moonlight, is only for me. — Eliot Khalil Wilson, from "New Orleans Odalisque," The Saint of Letting Small Fish Go (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 2003)

But it's done no good at all for me to bring forth the deepest truths from out of my inner being ... He sees me only as a woman. He cannot or will not rise above the sensual. He doesn't see me. He doesn't realize that he does not love me. I don't really exist for him. He merely loves my body, the outer cloak which is merely a manifestation of my true self! How horrible! How debasing!

She was wearing a beautiful dress with straps designed to be eaten off her shoulders.

The salt and blood of him filled her mouth, and now her flaws were tingling, itching too. She leaned in, purring, and he backed up a step.

Baines came up behind him, a hulking form, breathing softly. He smelled of soap and wine and rosewater and lightly of fresh sweat.

Every eye in the room saw Cliodhna's white, white fingers, sharp nails crimson as wet berries, catch my sleeve, saw me turn around and duck my head to speak into her ear.

went up to the dressing room and got kitted, all crinolines and kilted skirts and my tits about falling out the top of my daffodil taffeta dress whenever I grabbed a breath.

The Devil's lips hovered over Kit's, satin as rose petals, the warm brush of breath on Kit's skin and the warmth of a presence clos enough to stir the fine hairs on his cheeks.

She was not prepared for Mallory to pull away before Rien thought the kiss was half finished, quickly nipping at Rien's lower lip and then pressing a finger against it. And then it was dark eyes, brown and transparent as coffee, with green and amber flecks swimming under the surface of Mallory's breath across her mouth.

The kiss was long and soft, fever-hot and gentle, although holding Perceval in her arms was not unlike embracing a rope ladder. Her lips were soft and cracked over the firmness of her teeth, and it seemed Rien expanded on her breath like a blown balloon.

Loose crimson trousers wrapped her lower body, her bracelets and necklaces tinkling like glass bells as she breathed.