Best 477 quotes in «naked quotes» category

I have a gift for you." She cocked a brow. "Is that right?" "Yes. It'll require us to get naked." She looped her arm in his as they headed to the bedroom. "Is this gift something I've seen before?" "Well ... maybe. But this gift can always be used in new and unique ways." She tilted her head back and laughed. "Best. Gift. Ever.

I heard him sweeping with the broom, and then he suddenly stopped. I had obviously got his attention, and he was looking. Take a good look, honey, I thought. Take a good look at what I’m offering. I liked the sound of that silence. Do you know what I mean? Have you heard that silence yourself? I love that silence you get, when a man who you fancy notices your body. In a weird way, it’s so loud, it’s deafening. It could be because of the way you sway your hips, your legs, or thrust your breasts. And you just know his erection is talking to him, about what he’d like to do to your body. How he’d like to have his delightfully wicked way with you, undress you, smother your naked skin with hungry urgent kisses, and thrust his hard and moist cock deep inside the pouting red lips of your mouth… I think you get my drift. There’s a lovely tension in that moment; I call it the lust moment. When a sexy man sees what you’ve deliberately put out on offer, and he stops in his steps as his lust lights up his mind, and puts him on a new track.

I lost myself there — my mind imaging what was under his towel and what I would like to do to him. - Emma

I love being aroused. I love how that feeling overcomes me, as I look at a man’s erect cock, as I feel his hands ripping my clothes from my body, as the air caresses my naked skin, and how I feel like I’m blossoming like a flower.

I love being aroused. I relish that delicious feeling of freedom, the delirium of being naked, and my flesh being born again. It’s like I’m being made new.

It is you who must someday break through the protective polish of who you are, to become naked and powerful to who you can truly be.

In god's eyes we are fucking naked... did you know that?? - God is fucked screw up person!

In Wales, they love with abandon. When a Welsh person loves you, you'll finally know your potential. They are different from the Americans, who are precarious with their love. They are different from the English, who are reserved even when you stand in front of them, naked, handing them your heart. The English give you their love in cups: here, you’ve been good. drink another glass. But the Welsh, they drown you in an ocean of love. You have their attention, their consideration. You have all of them. They aren’t even careful to keep any for themselves. It seems to me that only the Welsh know how to love, how to make someone feel loved. Because when a Welsh person loves you, you’ll finally know how it feels to belong to poetry.

I stood in front of him, frustratedly imagining his naked muscular chest, and wanting his hot cock to spear me. My nipples were aroused, feeling as hard and long as coat hooks. They prodded fiercely through the thin blue material at him, like little calling signs of how horny and ready for sex I was. The best advertisement of all: erect nipples!

I never would've thought seeing a hundred naked people around a swimming pool would have been dullsville, but it is.

I traced a finger along my bottom lip as I wondered what his erection would look like, and how I should seduce him. I thought what kind of approach would work best: whether to go in slow and seductively, or whether I should make him notice me in some hard and fast way.

I wish to have known you before you were born. To have seen your naked soul and to have kissed it.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. I glanced back, and saw the underwear torn and discarded, a little strip of thin black material on the floor, and thought, Yes, this is the kind of impatient sex I’m looking for. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

I’ve never been with a boy who hasn’t seen me naked. It’s always the squeaky futon, bear-it-all, turn-off-the-lights quickstep. Don’t chalk it up to “daddy issues.” Maybe I’m sick of keeping private parts private. I don’t want rainwater secrets on my lips, tasting of “don’t make too much noise”. October’s dust in my lungs, maybe I don’t want bits of four AM lingering in my subconscious. Smokers breathe in fire, coat their insides in ash. Is that suicide or arson? Listen to me, listen to me. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE. I’m naked and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m not a piece of fruit. Don’t press into my flesh, looking for soft spots. My whole body is tender and rotten, but I’m alive. I’m alive and just because you can see it all, doesn’t mean you know it all

I walked about naked and barefoot stepping onto shards of glass sometimes feeling it sometimes not.

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

I was naked under his gaze. Skin was just that: skin. But to see your soul stripped, laid bare for the eyes of someone you barely knew-that was terrifying.

Lust was no surprise. Present a man who'd not known a woman in a while with the sight of a naked one, and there was no power on earth that could restrain his cock from rising. But the tenderness in his chest nearly knocked him down. He longed to hold her, to whisper endearments, to kiss away her fears and offer her the protection of his body as well as its need. "Elspeth," he said reverently, as if her name were a prayer. That broke the spell. She covered herself, one arm across her breasts, the other hand protectively splayed between her legs. He continued to look at her, drinking in her exposed skin, all rosy and fresh. It would be like silk under his touch. His hands would know every inch of her. She snatched up the remains of the velvet skirt and held it before her, but her neat calves and ankles were still bare to his gaze. "How long have you been there?" she demanded. "Long enough.

Love is the true state of the human heart. When we love, we unguard our hearts. We open ourselves up to the world with- out any restraint. When passion flows, desires stir, our earthy senses become dull, and our ethereal self becomes illumined. At this stage, we are naked, totally naked, with little or no covering of ego.

Naked people don't follow fashion, they follow instincts.

Naked you are blue like the night in Cuba, you have vines and stars in your hair,

No chance she'd allow any man to see her naked besides the one who'd gotten her pregnant four times. You broke it, you bought it, baby.

Nothing makes you feel more naked than someone identifying a desire you never knew you possessed.

Not every poor or unemployed person who has one wears a political party’s t-shirt to reveal their political affiliation; some use it merely to conceal their nipples.

Once I had a wild fling on an otherwise boring weekend holiday in Edinburgh, with a guy I met who turned out to be a psychiatrist. He agreed with me, after hours and hours of our naked cavorting in a hotel, that I was a sex addict; although he did stress he wouldn’t change me for the world. It turned him on that I was so sexual, and we turned a dull weekend in a grey city into something wonderful for the two of us. So, what was the problem?

Once we are aware that our nudity makes us objects of desire, we become naked.

O Heavenly Children, do not forget that God is here, there and everywhere. The birds are his eyes and the air is his ears. And as you sleep, your heart and soul rest naked before him. He can drink from the rivers of your thoughts, and even feel the wetness of your tears.

People in trailers were canned and labeled much like the apple juice down at the plant, stamped with ingredients for all the world to see: chicken fried steak, overcooked vegetables, no working knowledge of any major Italian movie directors--the list went on and on.

Passion in life…is life. It’s contagious. Get naked and roll around in it. People who enjoy living have it all figured out. They are passionate, driven, alive, and they are real.

She liked his unique smell, and it turned on all five of her senses, wanting to see him naked, touch him while naked, hear him as he moaned while he made love, taste his skin, and feel his naked body as she seduced him with the trailing of hungry fingers.

Rosy ferried the drinks back to the table, slid the Guinness his way. “You said you have a show. Is it a comedy?” “No, but you will laugh, I hope, after hearing my qualifications.” His eyes glittered. “I do magic, with a twist. The twist is, my clothes are the first thing to disappear.” Rosy gaped. “Yes. I do magic… naked. I not only have a big ego.” Marek wiggled his middle finger. “I have a big wand.

She wore her scars, and looked as best as she could. He made her comfortable and removed them one by one. She stood bare in front of him. He kissed her naked soul and tattooed a promise on her skin

She stood before him fully clothed yet gloriously naked. He saw the universe through her and began to give praise!

That day, they jumped into the river together. It was hot and nobody needed any clothes.

Some of us walk around with a necklace of hope, an armour of sanity, but at the end of the day, they always come off. We reveal our naked, vulnerable, real selves.

Some people are sexier and some are sexy only when they are dressed.

Soon it would be his turn. Kaine wondered how he would meet Death. His ship was a mess, in every sense of the word. Systems were in disarray, damaged equipment malfunctioning, and control panels shattered by blaster-fire littered the decks. In the fighting, severe hull damage had caused parts of the ship to be sealed off. Dead bodies – or raw red chunks of them – lay everywhere. The corridors were dark where the lights had failed. His footsteps echoed eerily as he ran down them. He’d been on the run for what felt like days. He felt naked, his tattered, sweat-drenched tunic clinging to his body, especially under his breastplate. Fatigue had caused him to discard his body amour. It was of no realistic use anyway, and just made him hotter and sweatier, made stealthy movement more difficult – and weighed him down.

The King is naked! If only he was a Prince!

The camp lived up to expectations as warmly dressed guards forced them to undress outside the gate where they searched them for valuables and weapons. The captives stood for a long time in ice and show on that grim December 5, numb and shaking, while guards robbed them, according to Copley. Chicago had now received prisoners from most major battlefields of the Civil War, except Gettysburg and Antietem.

The Earl of Woolsey was indeed completely nude. He did not seem particularly perturbed by this fact, but Miss Tarabotti felt the sudden need to close her eyes tight and think about asparagus or something equally mundane.

True love has taught me that there is a difference between a woman getting naked for you and one revealing herself to you.

There’s a much different message received, when the signs written in the flesh were not in your hand writing.

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

The moment her hymen was plucked from her body in the wilderness, Her soul was taken from sanity.

There is no way to undo something already done, or to dress up a naked truth.

The sight of cockroaches having sex is way more likely to turn us on than that of some people naked.

Unsightly If I strip my heart naked, you'll see all the unsightly scars, I'm afraid.

When questioning ourselves, we must identify, where we are heading to. Do we prefer our life to remain untitled. Will we stand bare and naked without dressing any expectations or do we decide to interact with the world around. Will we play a part on the stage of life or do we choose to remain simply a chapter without heading, an episode without caption, an untitled interval. ("Life untitled" )

When I'm with you, I feel exposed. Naked. When I'm naked with you, I feel clothed. Sheltered.

What I am or am not wearing does not correlate with my competency as a professional, a mother, or a feminist role model. My clothes do not define me and nor does my nakedness. I define me.