Best 7189 quotes in «sex quotes» category

Using lube has been known to make penetrative sex last longer, and even a drop in the well of a condom can make wearing one a lot more comfy.

Using porn to guide sexual activity, is like using Jackass to model behaviour.

V-as povesti despre penisul meu, dar ar fi o poveste lunga.

...ved sin bydende autoritet sløver og fordummer den all Platons samlede teologi og filosofi; likevel gir han ikke fra seg et kny. Overalt ellers kan man bevare en viss anstendighet; alle andre aktiviteter finner seg i sømmelighetsregler, men kjærlighetsakten kan man bare forestille seg som lastefull eller komisk. Bare prøv å finne en klok og behersket måte å bedrive den på.

Viagra isn't the only drug being prescribed off-label for women with arousal problems. Los Angeles urologist Jennifer Berman told me some doctors are prescribing low doses of Ritalin. Drugs like Ritalin improve a person's focus, so it stands to reason that it would make it easier to stay attuned to subtle changes taking place in one's body. 'It enables a woman to focus o the task at hand,' said Berman, managing, though surely not intending, to make sex sound like homework.

Vi er bare oppfinnsomme når det gjelder å mishandle oss selv, det er det virkelige bytte for vår åndskraft - et farlig redskap når det er i uorden!

Vi gjør kanskje rett i å klandre oss selv for å frembringe noe så tåpelig som mennesket, og i å kalle akten skammelig og de organer som brukes til den, for skamdeler (mine egne er for tiden blitt så ynkelige at jeg virkelig skammer meg over dem).

Viagra, Valtrex, Valium... you fuck enough strangers, you're taking a blue pill with a "V" on it.

Virginity is supposed to be something a girl gives up only when she is ready and feels comfortable, something a girl discusses at length with her friends and flip-flops over a million times in her mind before actually doing it. A guy is expected to be born ready. But what I realized after Tommy is that they're not. They're just as scared as their girlfriends, maybe even more so because the onus is on them to be gentle, make it last, make it memorable. And most of them haven't a clue.

Voi donne usate il sesso solo per due motivi. O perché siete innamorate del vostro partner, o perché volete dimenticare un altro partner.

Waiting for a hot pocket to cook we’d fuck and be satisfied, barefoot on new york city apartment linoleum. A satisfying hot pocket and a big ass smile and a tight ass grip and a wall beside a random pipe beside the stove where we left palm and dick prints. We fucked like this. Three condoms in an hour and a half and where are you now? Holding the hand of some local dude you wish was a little more international, wishing you had known I was enough and asked me to stay. You are standing in the kitchen waiting for popcorn to pop while he washes dishes, not knowing I’m wishing back for you.

Walking out with the people, I didn't know which was more exciting, the air race, the parachute jump that failed, or the cunt.

Wanna dance?" she asked. "I think they're playing our song." "Oh yeah? What's that?" "The hokey-pokey." "No shit." "Sure," she said, "don't you hear it?" She left her bikini top on, but she removed the bottom and then wrestled off my trunks. She held our suits in one hand and with the other grabbed hold of the horn of plenty. "Salve work?" she asked. "Miracle drug," I said "And how to you do the hokey-pokey?" she asked. "I forget." "You put your right foot in." "Right." "You put your right foot out." "Good." "You put your right foot in and you shake it all about." "Great. What's next?" she asked and kissed me sweetly. "After the foot?

Wanting too much sex and being obsessed with it is usually a sign of distress (or immaturity), not necessarily of passion. Passion wants to have a deeper connection while obsession just wants to have more action.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

Warum wird das Spielerische, Leichte, Dynamische aus der Sexualität genommen, warum sind die Klangfarben, die Tonarten der Lust als so statisch, abgegrenzt, einseitig gedacht, warum sind die Modulationen verschwunden aus dem Denken über das Begehren?

Watch a good movie sometime without reference to what’s happening but only with attention to how it was photographed; you’ll see the change of focus—zoom in, pan out, close-up on face, fade to black, open from above—easily. You want to do that in what you write; it’s one of the things that keep people’s eyes on the page, though they’re almost never conscious of it.

We all have a choice as to how we value someone. Either they become nothing more than an object, or we cultivate the ability to push on through to find true beauty in the whole, not in an amalgam of parts.

We all know that when the lights are out all women are the same height!

We also wish warmly to affirm those sisters and brothers, already in membership with orthodox churches, who - while experiencing same-sex desires and feelings - nevertheless battle with the rest of us, in repentance and faith, for a lifestyle that affirms marriage [between a man and woman] and celibacy as the two given norms for sexual expression. There is room for every kind of background and past sinful experience among members of Christ's flock as we learn the way of repentance and renewed lives, for "such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God" (1 Corinthians 6:11). This is true inclusivity.

We are all Believers (searching) for meaning, and Sexual (with desire) for a reason, and Crazy (by degrees) for Love

We are all somewhere else, during.

We are all the fruits of pleasure's toil.

we are born into this world on the tailcoats of a scream. born into gritted teeth and a shock of red across the pristine. born into a solemn hush. are you evil? you, who tore into this world on a steed of crimson… are you a monster? we are born as angels, toothless, a mouth a gurgling brook. and as we grow, so do our wings, until we are high enough to see that our church is no more than a small forest and the altar a tree. are you a monster, angel with fangs? all teeth, thick with teeth, you can’t even close your mouth anymore. it rains and it’s like drowning. corn husk skin and we’re born again. into a time of being tied down, to a person, to a bed. a time of clipped wings. of holy cries out to a void. your wildness a convenience store in the desert, pale pink, dusty, arid. your wildness staring longingly at the screaming horizon and flicking another cigarette butt into the dirt, a lone oscillating fan its only company. we’re born into this concrete world, where sanctuary is to be alone or to pretend to like it. this world of broken bottles instead of leaf crunch. roadside motels proclaiming vacancies. inside and out. that pluck your heartstrings. a new church, a fresh sin. the altar now a white railing against a muted matte pink wall. you lean against it, hips jutted to the side. some of the eighties still lingers. you see a man in a leather jacket kissing a girl’s neck purple. he looks up. teeth are everywhere. hundreds of glistening teeth. you turn away. your wings shush against an old telephone booth, door forced closed. you’re calling your mother to say you’re sorry for hurting her, but when she answers you hang up.

We are having hot lesbian sex... and by sex we mean tea but it's still hot.

We are [God's] by creation, and again by redemption. He has every right to tell me what to do with my mind and body. I have. I right to do whatever I want with my body.

We are not here together just to make children, Elizabeth. What we're going to do is sanctified by marriage. It's an act of love - of love. Not merely of the flesh, but of the mind and even the soul. There's nothing about it you shouldn't welcome.

We are one at the root - we just part at the branch

We both may be killed by the Muslims," he told Manu, "and must put our purity to the ultimate test, so that we know that we are offering the purest of sacrifices, and we should now both start sleeping naked.

We asked our Welsh teacher, Mr Llewellyn – who is young, to tell us the Welsh sex words. The Welsh word for sex is ‘rhyw’. It sounds like coughing. He said that, in general, Welsh-speakers use English words. When pressed, he gave us a couple of examples to show us why this might be. ‘Llawes goch’ means ‘red sleeve’. ‘Coes fach’ means ‘small leg’. The phrase would be: ‘Put your small leg in my red sleeve’.

We are those who do not disconnect the values of their minds from the actions of their bodies, those who do not leave their values to empty dreams, but bring them into existence, those who give material form to thoughts, and reality to values.

We can’t make love out here. It’s freezing!” Maryanne cried. A boyishly beseeching look lit up his eyes. “We would heat up quickly.” “It’s fine for you,” she protested. “You only need one part of your body, and you’ll be sliding that into warmth.

We can't ignore right-wing demagogues who insist that the word of the doctor who proclaims a child's sex at birth somehow holds more sway over the reality of the body than the word of the person who inhabits it. - Gwendolyn Ann Smith

We display outrageously and obsessively that which we do not possess or have deeply at our disposal. If we are displaying sex with unseemly exaggeration and preoccupation then we have not found the heart of sex.

We do not know whether I am making love to you or you are making love to me. The experience is so completely mutual. It feels awesome. I wish it could last forever.

We fell into each other’s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.

We'd walk home together in the foggy summer night and I'd tell her about sex; the good stuff, like how it could be warm and exciting--it took you away--and the not-so-good things, like how once you showed someone that part of yourself, you had to trust them one thousand percent and anything could happen. Someone you thought you knew could change and suddenly not want you, suddenly decide you made a better story than a girlfriend. Or how sometimes you might think you wanted to do it and then halfway through or afterward realize no, you just wanted the company, really; you wanted someone to choose you, and the sex part itself was like a trade-off, something you felt like you had to give to get the other part. I'd tell her that and help her decide. I'd be a friend.

We grow up in a world where satisfying our cravings seems to be the number one objective, every advertisement on television and the newspaper calls for one craving or another to be dealt with. When it comes to sex we are bombarded every which way, so much so, that we think solving our cravings is the only way and the right way.

We had been with the men, we had let them do what they wanted. But they would never know the parts of ourselves we hid from them - they would never sense the lack or even know there was something more they should be looking for.

We had laid down the law : no chocolate, no sex.

We have forgotten how to sleep with a woman without any smarty-pantsness

We have formed a sick little friendship over the past year

We have to stop anyway. I don't want you to regret this later. And I don't want your head to explode." "Really? You're so good that my head would explode?" It took him a moment. His expression changed from intense to speculative. "It's a possibility. I'm not a doctor, but Doolittle says it could happen." "That's a lot of expectation to live up to." "I exceed expectations." So modest, too.

We have rules. Full disclosure, for one thing. And we're in bed with each other at the end of the day. Our commitment is for life, and we save our hearts for each other. That way we can have play AND permanency. If monogamy becomes more important than fidelity, you're bound to get hurt. It's all the lying that clobbers you, not the sex.

We kissed for a bit and I stopped shaking. We played with each other for a long time, and after we had joined, my cock and her fanny became one thing, then it seemed to vanish as we took off on a big psychic trip together. It was our souls and our minds that were doing it all; our genitals, our bodies, they were just launch pads and were soon superfluous as we went around the universe together on our shared trip, moving in and out of each other’s heads and finding nothing in them but good things, nothing in them but love. The intensity increased until it became almost unbearable and we exploded together in an orgasmic crash-landing onto the shipwreck of a bed, from a long way out in some form of space. We held each other tightly, drenched in sweat and shaking with emotion

Welcome to Tears of Crimson, the New Orleans Vampire Bar.

We like to romanticize the wild, raw, majestic beauty of nature. But when you take a closer look, nature is really just a giant fuckfest. That beautiful bird chirping? It's a mating call. That pretty little bird is trying to get laid. And why does the peacock have such beautiful feathers? To attract females. Because he's trying to get laid. Animals in the wild spend their entire lives trying to stay alive, and to mate. That's it. They eat, they sleep, they fuck, they raise their offspring. That's the meaning of their lives.

We lie under the sheet after making love, speaking of loneliness relieved in a book relived in a book so on that page the clot and fissure of it appears words of a man in pain a naked word entering the clot a hand grasping through bars: deliverance What happens between us has happened for centuries we know it from literature still it happens sexual jealousy outflung hand beating bed dryness of mouth after panting there are books that describe all this and they are useless

Well, for me, gratuitous abstinence is just as bad as gratuitous sex.

Well, dearest, what would you tell a farmer who had an over-abundant harvest? To plant less, of course!"... "I am not complaining about the frequency of the planting," she said. "I’d just rather not reap a crop every year.