Best 7189 quotes in «sex quotes» category

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

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.

Primera lección: el placer nace de lo inesperado

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Pussy is sweeter than honey and more valuable than money.

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.

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.

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.

Read any women's magazine and you'll see the same complaint over and over again: men - those little boys ten or twenty or thirty years on - are hopeless in bed. They are not interested in "foreplay"; they have no desire to stimulate the erogenous zones of the opposite sex; they are selfish, greedy, clumsy, unsophisticated. These complaints, you can't help feeling, are ironic. Back then, all we wanted was foreplay, and girls weren't interested. They didn't want to be touched, caressed, stimulated, aroused; in fact, they used to thump us if we tried. It's not really very suprising, then, that we're not much good at all that. We spent two or three long and extremely formative years being told very forcibly not even to think about it. Between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four, foreplay changes from being something that boys want to do and girls don't, to something that women want and men can't be bothered with. (Or so they say. Me, I like foreplay - mostly because the times when all I wanted to do was touch are alarmingly fresh in my mind.) The perfect match, if you ask me, is between the Cosmo woman and the fourteen-year-old boy.

Reaching over she put her hand on my thigh and asked what I would be doing that evening. I couldn’t believe what was happening. She was hitting on me and if I had any plans, they instantly vanished, as I heard myself say with renewed confidence… “Nicole, my time is your time. You know this island better than I do, do you have any ideas?” The driver took us to the ship where Nicole gave me a long passionate kiss. I now knew where the term “French Kissing” came from. Her passion excited me and I didn’t give a damn that the driver and half the midshipmen on the ship were watching what was happening. I scooped up my gear and the paperwork, telling Nicole that I would meet her at the Consulate at six o’clock. She advised me to ring the bell since they lock up at five o’clock. What she didn’t tell me was that she had a room upstairs in the Consulate next to the one the Consul used.

Read "The Story of O." Convince yourself that it was in fact written by a woman or someone who thinks like a woman.

Really it was like trying to solve a crime in the Stock Exchange, the way the mildest mention of sex interrupted business.

Really the only time men and women get along is when women want sex.

Real sex is worship, not just physical performance.

Recreational sex is thus supposed to function as the glue holding a human couple together while they cooperate in rearing their helpless baby.

Recuerdo que mucha gente pensó que todos los que dejasen de dormir venderían su cama. No pasó; la cama aún tenía muchas funciones en la vida de esa gente: amar, tener sexo, descansar con los ojos abiertos, tumbarse, vivir… Se vendieron más camas que nunca.

Religion is probably, after sex, the second oldest resource which human beings have available to them for blowing their mind.

Refusing to lean back against him, Colleen sat ramrod straight until they reached the road. “I guess I should say thank you for saving my life,” she muttered then turned and slapped Faolán hard across the face. “And that’s for you having to save it in the first place. And I’m not your woman, you big, arrogant, lying, betraying…faery loving…” She searched for the perfect insult and couldn’t find one, “…Scot.” She gave a very unladylike snort. “Happy now? That fiery enough for you?

Release your Inner Bonobo

Reiko set the ball on the ground and patted my knee. "Look," she said, "I'm not telling you to stop sleeping with girls. If you're O.K. with that, then it's OK. It's your life after all, it's something you have to decide. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't use yourself up in some unnatural form. Do you see what I'm getting at? It would be such a waste. The years nineteen and twenty are a crucial stage in the maturation of character, and if you allow yourself to become warped when you're that age, it will cause you pain when you're older. It's true. So think carefully. If you want to take care of Naoko, take care of yourself too." I said I would think about it.

Remember my friend, uncontrolled alcohol, uncontrolled casual sex and mindless indoctrination are not signs of progress, they are signs of drowning into the abyss of mental and physical degradation.

Remember, sex is never a thing you just had. Sex is the intercourse, the merging or convergence, of who the two of you are—your spirits merging. People ask, “How was it for you?” The reply is often, “It was great.” But is this really the right question and answer? Instead, personalize your question and ask, “How are you?” Respond with depth. Gaze into each other’s eyes and speak your truth: “I’m over the moon,” or “I love you,” or “I melted and I’m just coming back into myself.

Relying on one person can make you dull so broaden your outlook, find new friends and have new experiences...Life is waiting for you to live...

Remove God from the world of ideas. Remove government, politics from society. Keep sex, humor, utilities. Let private property go.

Rendall's first law of jealousy: jealousy does the cock harder and pussy wetter.

Rest," he whispers against my temple, and despite my sleepiness, the feel of his lips moving across my skin makes me shiver. "I'll be here when you wake up." "Oh, God," I mumble, sliding my arm over Eli's chest and snuggling close. "Have we become that old couple that doesn't have sex anymore?" Eli's chuckle rumbles against my ear. "We had sex this morning." "Okay," I say already being pulled into slumber.

Revenge is a dish best served in something microwaveable

Reva often spoke about 'settling down.' That sounded like death to me. 'I'd rather be alone than anybody's live-in prostitute,' I said to Reva.

Revenge is like sex, Mister Dresden. It's best when it comes on slow, quiet, until it all seems inexorable.

Revenge sex is not something we seek, but once in your mouth… it can be liberating if you just swallow.

Robbers’ Hill and its surrounding area were extremely safe for women. In the last two decades, there had been no incident of molestation or rape in and around the village. People in the region both feared and respected Bhagatji. There lived two eunuchs in the village. There was a fable in the village that years ago these eunuchs were men who had sexually assaulted a local woman. Bhagatji punished them. Since then they had been like this.

Rick guided her to the outside balcony where they made love under the springtime mountain night. As Renee moaned across the valley below, Rick realized that he hadn’t closed the door and that her delightful calls probably echoed into the lobby below. There was a thought that he should close the door. But he didn’t.

Roger's heart grows erect, and comes. That's really how it feels. Up sharply to skin level in a V around his centerline, washing over his nipples... it is love, it is amazing.

Roman ignored her and took her ankles and flipped them purposefully, but because of her hands she could not turn all the way and ended up with her legs scissored unintuitively, and suddenly things were different. Ashley had heard girls tell stories of getting into situations and changing their minds as though this made them victims of what happened next, like that was how it worked, that you got so far and it switched off just like that and they were not themselves to blame for being little sluts and cock teases in the first place. But now she understood: it was not like that. Changing your mind was not the thing that happened at all, what changed was your body telling you what was right and what was wrong and before now she had never known the way things can just like that go all wrong.

Roselyn adored the scent of sex, the wafting aroma of angel fontanels before they earn their halos.

Rubbing a clit to competin and sawing off someone's foot seemed to use all the same muscles.

Sad sex is when you feel you’re losing all touch with her, and she with you, but this is the way of telling one another that the connection is still there, somehow; that neither of you is giving up on the other, even if part of you fears that you should. Then you discover that insisting on the connection is the same as prolonging the pain.

Sadly, I have to admit, my timing sucks. Not the best - or most romantic - idea to tell your woman "I love you" for the first time whilst impaling the crap out of her.

Salma had read books where couples kissed, spoke in platitudes or come-ons; something about to happen, hinted at. Beyond that there was always only a white space on the page. A gap between paragraphs. She had thought often about what went on there. On the other side, when the letters appeared once more, couples smoke and drank tea or dressed one another or themselves. If there was a book to be written about Margot it should be blank; it would be those sex spaces between lines, sucked clean of words.