Best 7189 quotes in «sex quotes» category

People confuse love with sex. Having sex doesn’t mean you’re in love. Sex with the wrong partner destroys. Wrong mating is the major cause of the devastation the world is witnessing. If only true love could reign in the hearts of couples, then the entire world would witness peace. Harmony in the homes would create cohesion in the communities and cohesion in the communities spells agreement amongst nations and that would readily translate to global peace. But tension-filled homes which are the products of loveless relationships are infecting the bloodstream of international relationship and that’s the number one reason for chaos everywhere. The chap with a gun shooting down others I can tell you is a child from a loveless home. He knows no love and can’t extend it either. The world has plenty of sex but is wanting in love.

People have sex, even the religious ones. Yet, when sex is transferred into words, suddenly it's dirty, vulgar, immoral, trashy. Funny huh?

People often squabble over what defines a person as a woman or a man—whether it should be based on their chromosomes, assigned sex, genitals, or other factors—but such reductionist views deny our indisputably holistic gendered realities. For all of us, gender is first and foremost an individual experience, an amalgamation of our own unique combinations of gender inclinations, social interactions, body feelings, and lived experiences.

People say memories are there to be cherished. I believe memories are there to be created, and if you do something worthwhile today, you will stop living in the past

People spent their lives searching for something beyond the simple friction of skin on skin, but there was nothing. The void between two people could never be closed, and in trying to close it, they would only learn everything that was to be despised in the other.

People talk about anal sex as though it’s the be-all and end-all of gay identity.

People sin, Lena. People in love sin a lot. God invented sex. He knows how it works

People who just had sex had an annoying habit of assuming everyone around them had just had sex. Which was also, coincidentally, what people who were not having sex assumed.

Perhaps I was hosting my own personal sexual revolution. You know the kind that will not be televised.

Perhaps it’s true that in our sex-saturated culture it does take a certain amount of self-discipline to resist having sex, but restraint does not equal morality. And let’s be honest: if this were simply about resisting peer pressure and being strong, then the women who have sex because they actively want to — as appalling as that idea might be to those who advocate abstinence — wouldn’t be scorned. Because the “strength” involved in these women’s choice would be about doing what they want despite pressure to the contrary, not about resisting the sex act itself.

Perhaps I was being picky, but I really didn’t think being able to spell orgasm without being spotted a vowel was asking too much.

Perhaps the most important sexual tool is consciousness. If we think we are "not enough" or "too much," we surely are. Similarly, when you give a gift, create artwork, or perform any task with the thought that it's "not enough" or "too much," it surely will be.

Pero en esto yerran los jóvenes tan a menudo y tan gravemente. Ellos, en cuya naturaleza está el no tener paciencia, se arrojan y se entregan, unos en brazos de otros, cuando les sobrecoge el amor. Se prodigan y desparraman tal como son, aun sin desbrozar, con todo su desorden y su confusión... Mas ¿qué ha de suceder luego? Qué ha de hacer la vida con ese montón de afanes truncos, que ellos llaman su convivir, su unión, y que, de ser posible, desearían poder llamar su felicidad, y aún más: ¡su porvenir! Ahí se pierde cada cual a sí mismo por amor al otro. Pierde igualmente al otro, y a muchos más que aun habían de llegar. Pierde también un sin fin de horizontes y de posibilidades, trocando el flujo y reflujo de posibilidades de sutil presentimiento por un estéril desconcierto, del cual ya nada puede brotar.

Perversion is just another form of art. It's like painting or drawing or sculpting. Except instead of paint, us perverts use sex as our medium.

Personally, I think the "Potter" books have too many adverbs and not enough sex.

Personally, I know nothing about sex, because I have always been married.

Personally, I'd prefer a guy who wants to see my boobs.

Personally, I think sex should be like math. At school. No one really cares if they're crap at math. They even proclaim it. They'll say to anyone, "Yeah, I don't mind science and English, but I'm absolutely shithouse at math." And other people will laugh and say,"Yeah, me too. I would have a clue about all that logarithm shit. You should be able to say that about sex too. You should be proudly able to say, "Yeah I wouldn't have a clue about all that orgasm shit, ay. I'm okay at everything else but when it comes to that part I wouldn't have a clue.

[Picasso] loved...women for the sexual, carnivorous impulses they aroused in him. Mixing blood and sperm, he exalted women in his paintings, imposed his violence on them, and sentenced them to death once he felt their mystery had been discharged and the sexual power they instilled in him had dulled... Women were his prey. He was the Minotaur. These were bloody, indecent bullfights from which he always emerged the dazzling victor.

Pienso en él sin camisa. A la luz de la lámpara. A la luz de las velas del árbol de Navidad. A la luz del gato ardiendo. Abandono el pensamiento. Vuelve a mí. Hay pensamientos que están impregnados de cola de pegar

Playing someone… the concept of pulling strings at all times, without the other party knowing, or even suspecting anything. Why do we do it? Because we can.

Pleasure, sex… I never did understand this… but a system like the = real world has it's on glitches and bugs.

Please ejaculate", I silently urged the man, "so I can go to sleep". (In this way I imagine I was like millions of women before me

Plus having sex doesn’t make you a woman. That is so freaking cliché. If you want to have sex, have sex, but don’t make it this huge thing that carries all this weight. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.

Pointing out the emotion in a scene is like laughing at your own jokes.

Polygamy is about sex, whereas monogamy is about love.

Porn is now so deeply embedded in our culture that it has become synonymous with sex to such a point that to criticize porn is to get slapped with the label anti-sex. … But what if you are a feminist who is pro-sex in the real sense of the word, pro that wonderful, fun, and deliciously creative force that bathes the body in delight and pleasure, and what you are actually against is porn sex? A kind of sex that is debased, dehumanized, formulaic, and generic, a kind of sex not based on individual fantasy, play, or imagination, but one that is the result of an industrial product created by those who get excited not by bodily contact but by market penetration and profits? Where, then, do you fit in the pro-sex, anti-sex dichotomy when pro-porn equals pro-sex?

Polygamy is a luxury of the cave-people, and monogamy is an existential responsibility of the civilized society.

Porn is in the eye of the beholder.

Potential enemies make the best friends and lovers. Many a blessed union begins in adversity.

Pour yourself a cup of steaming coffee, honey, then come pour yourself into me. I need you like you need your morning fix. You need me to breathe. And today I need you to love me like a storm. Love is the only thing that will heal our tormented hearts. Love is the only thing that will set us free.

President Trump’s numerous secret mistresses are bad news for corporate USA.

Primera lección: el placer nace de lo inesperado

Pretty people are a dime a dozen and sex can be had with a complete stranger......but crossing paths with one who awakens within you a poetic melody that echoes throughout the depths of your soul, that is one of life's truest delicacies.

Prior to having sex for the first time, I had read many books and magazines, pornographic and otherwise, and I'd developed certain expectations of intercourse. From paperback romances I expected to feel vaguely yet ecstatically ravished, as if, for the duration of the act, I would experience everything an ad for a drugstore cologne could ever promise. From more serious fiction, I assumed that I would be blasted with a torrent of conflicting emotions, flashbacks to my birth, a rough kinship with the natural world, perhaps a Booker Prize, and, ultimately, a sense of existential ennui. From mainstream movies, I hoped for a beautifully lit and choreographed series of thrusts and embraces, with my head thrown back, my eyes shut but not squinched, and my lips slightly but appealingly parted; I also felt that the sex might be edited, continually leaping forward in the attractive bits and pieces, with only the dewiest bodily fluids. From porn, I trusted that sex would be alternately savage, degrading, pounding, and dull, and all of this sounded promising. From what my parents had told me, I knew that sex did not exist, and from what other schoolchildren had let on, I imagined that there was a real danger of getting stuck in one position or another, with the parties involved finally getting yanked apart in the emergency room.

Prostitutes are paid for taking their clothes off. Celebrities are paid for putting others' clothes on.

Prostitution is not exactly a reputable business over there either, even though the girls actually have to pay taxes on their earnings, and submit to regular health check ups. Even the prostitutes have universal healthcare over there. The benefit of legal prostitution is obvious: tax income for the city, healthier girls, and safety. In Amsterdam, each girl has an alarm button next to her bed that she can press if one of her "customers" tries to rape or hurt her. The police will arrive within minutes and protect the girl from harm.

Promoting promiscuity in this evolved and civilized society is actually like signing the Declaration, that says: “I hereby renounce my membership of humankind, since I am neither human nor kind. I declare that I no longer belong to the modern human species, i.e. the Homo sapiens. From now on I shall be counted among the swingers of the animal kingdom, such as the bonobo or montane vole. I am simply an arrogant philandering savage.

Prostitution has the same relationship to trafficking as sex has to rape. One is voluntary, the other is not

Prostitution isn't illegal to protect women. Prostitutes would be much safer if it was legal. It's illegal to protect men. Men are addicted to sex. Sex is like heroin to men. If all women were allowed to charge admission to their pussy, they would have total control over men and it would cause a giant wealth transfer. Men would go broke and women would end up with all the money and power.

Prostitution is illegal in many places, but porn is not. But what is porn if not sex for money, caught on camera? What the law actually prohibits then is having paid sex in private and not allowing anyone to watch.

(...) psychologist Wilhelm Reich theorized that the suppression of sexuality was essential to an authoritarian government. Without the imposition of antisexual morality, he believed, people would be free from shame and would trust their own sense of right and wrong. They would be unlikely to march to war against their wishes, or to operate death camps. Perhaps if we were raised without shame and guilt about our desires, we might be freer people in more ways than simply the sexual.

Pussy is sweeter than honey and more valuable than money.

Pure sex is masturbation with a real partner who functions as a prop for our indulging in fantasies, while it is only through love that we can reach the … Other.

Put some fiddle in the middle, it'll make it better. Warm your heart like an old love letter. Make you feel like the day you met her.

Quan gave him an impatient look. "Did you touch her clit at all?" "What's that?" "Oh hell," Michael said. Quan smacked his palm to his forehead. "Her clitoris. It's where you stimulate her to make her come." "Where is it?" Quan rubbed both hands over his face as Michael repeated, "Oh hell.

-¿Qué queréis, buen caballero? -Quiero.

Rapunzel shivered as she felt the tantalizing warm breath of the leopard and the vibrations from his panting tickle and tease her in such an intimate place.

Rachel moans, “Great. Well, he’s not the only one sexually frustrated.” I laugh. “Well, then get over these issues so you both can be relieved.” “How’s Alex?” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m sure fine,” I say defensively. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.” “Really? I thought he made a nightly appearance.” “Rachel, those dreams aren’t him. It’s my f’ed up brain replaying my memories as a form of torture...

RADIANCE   In her eyes I find a glimmer of immense joy giving radiance to that smile that I adore. Reaching for me she now gives me the kind of kiss that says to me so many words.   Before her lips are freed from mine she falls apart in my arms as I hold her close. Her kisses are god’s love made manifest. Her touch is where I sleep peacefully in the unfurling of a surreal surrender. Again it is here where we do belong to one another. It is in this place where the two of us find all that is familiar to our hearts and where two souls are made into one, two souls being closer to heaven than any one man who has experienced for himself that one place where god himself would rather be.