Quotes About Desire

It has been my experience that when two people talk about sex, sex in the abstract, if there is such a thing, it is a way of fucking before you get into bed, trying it out, seeing if it's going to work.

You know," she said dreamily, "I can remember every man I ever fucked by the way he liked to do it. Not the way I liked to do it.

I realized with even more surprise that while it already seemed that I was interested in doing whatever it was this man wanted, I did not want to pick up another girl. I would be too jealous. I didn't want to share him.

Hey, babe," I said. "Love hurts.

and with a low moan he entered me with such ease, such presumption, that I began to come the moment he was inside of me.

They make these confessions to me in a shyly flirtatious way, as if they were trying to seduce me.

What is it exactly that I'm allowed to do with you?" I asked. "Anything you want.

I wanted to see his face. He could see mine.

Pauline, who claims completely disingenuously to fuck only married men because she prefers to be alone on the holidays . . .

I remembered that it was masculine gestures that aroused me.

I don't want a boyfriend," I said. "I don't even want any more friends." "What about a fuck?" "That would be fine.

A dangerous combination for me. Language and passion.

I was finding it difficult to speak with any vivacity, any pleasure. I wanted to get off the phone. I wanted him to feel bad, too.

I know the sort of man who likes me. So I wondered, not for the first time, what secret I might possess, what magic charm or talisman had allowed me to get Malloy's attention in the first place. To get him to fuck me. I am not the kind of woman he likes.

My belated recognition of his desire actually served the purpose of provoking me to consider him, if only for a moment. It was like high school when just to hear that a boy liked you was sufficient encouragement to agree to go steady with him by the end of the day. Now that I think of it, it is just like life. Not high school.

I wanted to talk to him. To hear his dangerous voice, the voice that he used with women ('Hi, baby, how you doin'? Sittin' on the phone?' The 'hi' drawn out in a low, implicating whisper.) I wanted to hear the coldness that was so deep . . . That coldness of spirit that had made it so thrilling to get his attention.

And there was still pleasure in it. A man who knew he could fuck.

Maybe you got a date in the city. You're going to get laid. A stranger, someone new, 'cause you wouldn't take the trouble for someone you already fucked.

The love withheld is always the love we long for most.

Mientras no estás enamorada, mientras tu corazón es libre y tu mirada no es de nadie, entre todos los hombres que podrían interesarte ni uno solo se digna a prestarte atención; después, en el momento en que te sientes atrapada por una única persona y no te importan los demás absolutamente nada, todos te persiguen, pronuncian dulces palabras, te galantean.

Men are often like that. They grow bored with simple goodness and want a woman who is dangerous, a challenge.

People who love science fiction really do love sex.

Children who feel that they are unloved can believe that there must be something very wrong about them which makes them unacceptable. The stinging sense of being not right causes them confusion and hurt, but they do not give up the desire for love and acceptance. They despair of it, certainly. They pine for it and perhaps fear it. But their pursuit of love and acceptance will dovetail with an attempt to change themselves into someone the child himself can accept.

Tune In to What Turns You On. "This is often very poignant," says Karen, "because a lot of women say, 'I don't know.' It is very frightening for them. They don't know if they care about anything.