Best 7189 quotes in «sex quotes» category

My sub doesn't pay for me,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “That just doesn't happen.” “But we ordered so much,” I say helplessly. “It made you happy,” he says simply. “Now I get to play with you. And that makes me happy.” “I don't think it's that simple an equation.” “Maybe not,” he concedes. “But then, if if sex were the same thing as math, a lot more people would be lining up to take calculus.

My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also. You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over to me with a whore’s glow in your slumberous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover’s fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling’s cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly. Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.

My sweet naughty girl I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms round my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress.

MYTH #2: ROMANTIC LOVE IS THE ONLY REAL LOVE Look at the lyrics of popular songs, or read some classical poetry: the phrases we choose to describe romantic love don’t really sound all that pleasant. Crazy in love, love hurts, obsession, heartbreak … these are all descriptions of mental or physical illness.

Nadia now lies back as her body perks up at me like the white lotus that reaches for the sun’s love. I now come into Nadia with all of my love, my lips running over her silk skin like water drifting downstream. Her kisses are filled with an incredible ability to give as her body merges into mine. The sounds of relief escaping her lips commend my escape, transcending me into the absolute pureness of love’s unseen realm.

Não dá não dá ela repetia mostrando o dinheirinho que não dava embolado na mão. Mas dar mesmo até que ela deu bastante. Pra meu gosto até que ela deu demais. Uma corja de piolhentos pedindo e ela dando.

Naturally all of them had a sad story: too much notice, not enough, or the worst kind. Some tale about dragon daddies and false-hearted men, or mean mamas and friends who did them wrong. Each story has a monster in it who made them tough instead of brave, so they open their legs rather than their hearts where that folded child is tucked.

Nat realised they had a lot of talking to do, but she did question Isabella’s timing. In her experience, matters of the heart should not be discussed when one party had a silicone cock strapped to their waist while the other's mouth went dry at the thought of it entering her.

Naw, I say. Mr ____, can tell you, I don't like it at all. What is it to like? He git up on you, heist your nightgown round your waist, plunge in. Most times I pretend I ain't there. He never know the difference. Never ast me how I feel, nothing. Just do his business, get off, go to sleep. She start to laugh. Do his business, she say. Do his business. Why, Miss Celie. You make it sound like he going to the toilet on you. That's what it feel like, I say. She stop laughing.

Necessity is the mother of delusion. For true love to exist there must be nothing that is necessary to it. Lovers have to live happily ever after, no matter what happens.

Neither art nor sex need to serve some higher purpose. They can just be art and sex.

Neither time nor distance should matter. Anything is doable...For love...

Nell'istituto religioso che ha frequentato da ragazza, dice la signora Wright, tutte le allieve dovevano coprirsi le orecchie con una sciarpa. Questo perché nella Bibbia si dice che la Vergine Maria rimase incinta quando lo Spirito Santo le sussurrò all'orecchio. Orecchie come vagine. La convinzione che sia sufficiente sentire un'idea sbagliata per perdere l'innocenza. n dettaglio di troppo e sei rovinata. Overdose di informazioni. E' la verità. Un'idea sbagliata può mettere radici in te e crescere.

Nessa held her arm up. She was staring at it, trying to gauge how big that was. “Dude, that’s as big as my arm. That’s like being f****d by a limb dude!” She wiggled her arm back and forth. “That's not normal.

Never depend on a single income. Make Investments to create a second source.” - Warren Buffet

Never fuck anyone you wouldn't want to be.

Never give a lousy person the opportunity to create lousy babies.

Never let a man stay the night,” she told me. “Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.

Never loved the taste of someone before baby, but with you, I would willingly drown in it.  I’m going to devour you Tessa, from the inside out, and you’re going to come so many times that you’ll forget there even was anyone before.  Focus on us babe.  You and me together is all that will ever matter.

Never pass up a chance to have sex or appear on television.

Never shut off pain till it eats you up completely. Ensure you find someone you can confide in and trust, share your burdens, cry if you need to by letting it all out. No one is conditioned for pain. We all need to address it and let it go, knowing we cannot change the past but we can make a brighter future out of the lessons learned.

Never sleep with someone whose troubles are worse than your own.

Never regard sex as big deal. See it as that little, fascinating empire which all persons, big and small, rich and poor, stoop low to conquer. ~Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Never underestimate the power of a pity fuck, which makes for about ninety percent of women’s collective dating history.

Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates! All streaming into cozy hotels All going to do the same thing tonight The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen The lobby zombies they knowing what The whistling elevator man he knowing The winking bellboy knowing Everybody knowing! I'd be almost inclined not to do anything! Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye! Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon! running rampant into those almost climatic suites yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel! O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy a saint of divorce--

Nice guys finish but that's what makes them good in bed.

...Next thing I know you've run off to Paris and thrown yourself under the nearest Frenchman-

Nick? Have you ever…” ”No.” He lifted his head again, studied me. “I’ve thought about it, but it never seemed right.” The idea of him making love to anyone else sent a shaft of pain straight through my middle. “You better wait on me, damn it.” ”I don’t think I have much choice.” He brushed my hair back. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Alix, the only one I’ll ever want. That’s a promise.

Nice guys finish last but that's what makes them good in bed.

Nixie, every party is an orgy waiting to happen." Nix opened her mouth, then closed it, dragging Neomi and Mari away. "Well, you can't argue with reason, can you?

No act is purer, more chaste, than the sex act.

No amount of wavy blond hair nor evenings spent with her plump lips applying just the right amount of pressure to his various pleasure points could make up for the rotting carcass of a soul that resided beneath all that beauty.

No being with a sexual appetite can be a rational being.

Nineteen ninety-eight was a banner year for Connie. She was separately invited by two male former college friends to participate in an ménage à trois with them and their wives, despite her overbite and diminutive breasts.

No act is so private it does not seek applause.

Nobody cares for getting belittled by a person you’ve had sex with. A person you’ve licked all over. Nobody wants to sit there and get run down too far by somebody who gives them a hard-on.

No. I can’t have sex with you today because there aren’t enough spoons.

No man wants his daughter to be the kind of girl whom he liked in high school.

no glove, no love

No matter how long or how difficult, we will undo whatever that Moroi boy has done to you." I managed a wavering smile, tasting blood in my mouth. "You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

No matter what happened, there was always one thing Isla could rely on: the sheer arrogance of male wolves. That, and their overriding assumption all females found them irresistible and were desperate to get them in the sack. Mostly she was desperate to get them in the sack, if only to stop their whining, but she didn't think a sack six feet under was precisely what they meant.

No boyfriend," I said, perhaps a little too quickly. Have I mentioned my total lack of social life? Having a dream about Alex last night was the closest thing I'd had to a date in months and that was only a dream and it was about a guy who was undead. Admittedly very sexy, but still completely undead. Although I have heard that vampire sex is supposed to be pretty damn good.

No matter what corruption he’s taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment—just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity?-an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value.

No matter how much I tried to justify the affair, the fact remained that I was a deceitful person. One moment I was making out with a man and an hour later I was in bed with another man. Who had I become? What had I lost in life that led me to do this? Did I not have a perfect life? Was I not happy? Of course, I was happy. I knew I was happy and content. Had I become greedy? I was in a maze and I could not find a way out.

Nonexistent sex differences in language lateralization, mediated by nonexistent sex differences in corpus callosum structure, are widely believed to explain nonexistent sex differences in language skills.

No one can leave someone they have good sex with. They can try, but they always go back. We’re simple souls like that, aren’t we?

No sex?" He looked at me in disbelief. "Well if you can't have ze sex, what can you do?" For the sake of simplicity I took my left arm and lined it up just under my collarbones. "Nothing below here," I said. I took my right arm and lined it up to my knees. "Nothing above here." "What about your armpit?" he asked. "Can your boyfriend do anything he wants to your armpit?" I thought about it. Armpits seemed pretty harmless. "Yeah," I said optimistically. "My boyfriend can do anything he wants to my armpit." "This is good," the Frenchman said. "He can stick his penis in and out of your armpit, and if you grow hair there it is almost like vagine." Is it too late to change my answer? I wondered, pulling a cardigan over my bare shoulders and covering any hint of an invitation.

No riddles while we're in bed, okay?" Song Book whispers as she reaches over and wraps her hands around mine. I couldn't agree more. As far as I'm concerned, beds are meant for making love, for falling asleep in while holding hands, or for flipping over to serve as a barricade, and nothing else.

No such private nights of ecstasy or hushed-up drinking and sex orgies ever occurred. They might have occurred if either General Dreedle or General Peckem had once evinced an interest in taking part in orgies with him, but neither ever did, and the colonel was certainly not going to waste his time and energy making love to beautiful women unless there was something in it for him.

Not even God who made us all can kill everybody at once. He kills people one by one, and the more he kills the more people are gonna be born and grow up and go on being born and growing up and mixing, and no son-of-a-bitch is gonna stop 'em!