Best 109 quotes in «orgasm quotes» category

I encourage you to tend to the garden of your own heart. Plant seeds of love. Let light through. Till the soil in the dark and cut the weeds. Water yourself with kindness and compassion. By healing within, you stop attracting relationships that are unhealthy for you. Love yourself repeatedly until it becomes ritual; if you love yourself first, everything is possible. The cosmic orgasm is possible. I am speaking to everyone, not only singles; it’s easy to forget these steps when you’re in a relationship or partnership.

if god is real, she put all of herself into this girl. she vowed to unleash a woman so violently herself, the sky would collapse every time she came to orgasm.

If your mind can move mountains and swallow gods, Why does it worry with helpless yesterdays and unborn tomorrows? If it can vomit stars and walk on split hairs, Why must it follow the same path to despair? Everyone will tell you: 'An orgasm here is just as good.

I knew it,” she snapped. “You’re no different from all men. You’re just another jerk pretending to be single! I didn’t wanna wrap a lie into a Christmas present anyway.

Ieder orgasme is een kleine echo van de oerknal; geen wonder dat sex, erotiek en pornografie van alle tijden zijn. (Translated into English: 'Every orgasm is a little echo of the Big Bang; no wonder sex, erotica and pornography are of all times.' )

I’m about to take a shower because I smell like an all-nighter, then I think I’ll take a bath so I can have a faucet orgasm. After all, I didn’t get any last night. A faucet orgasm is pretty much the same principle as a bidet orgasm except upside-down. When we were growing up we had bidets in all the bathrooms and when I was about ten I accidentally discovered one of the things they were good for. After that I used to spend hours on the damn thing. This dump we rent doesn’t have a bidet so I have to get in the tub and slide up toward the front, running my legs up the wall on either side of the faucet. Turn on the warm water and smile. Actually, you’ve got to get the water temperature just right first or you could really be in for a nasty shock. I’ve made that mistake a few times. This time I get it just right and I come three times before I get around to actually taking a bath.

I’ll have to see what I can do to get her to relax more. Another orgasm would probably help.

Indeed, analyst Robert Bak calls orgasm "the perfect promise between love and death," the means by which we repatriate separation of mother and child through the momentary extinction of the self. It is true that few of us consciously climb into a lover's bed in the hope of finding our mommy between the sheets. But the sexual loss of our separateness (which may scare people so badly they cannot have orgasm) brings us pleasure, in part, because it unconsciously repeats our first connection.

In an electroencephalogram… one of her seizures was almost identical to an orgasm... Nothing happened during a seizure that couldn’t happen outside one, except that Roselyn was not in control of it and it happened all at once. Since then, she had experienced hundreds of orgasms and dozens of seizures and, though she didn’t come close to finding the latter nearly as entertaining as the former, it was always in her mind. In the midst of Dryden’s often machine gun lovemaking or her own considerably more directed and soft ministrations, it was always in the back of her mind at the moment of climax—this is a tenth of a seizure, this is a fifth of one.

I feared if I spoke I would no longer be happy, or would be so in a way that I did not want to be, and so I surrendered myself body and soul to the joy that was inundating my whole being and that I could see was mutual. My happiness so overwhelmed my senses that it reached the point where nature, drowning in supreme pleasure, exhausts itself. For the space of a minute I remained motionless, in intellectual contemplation and adoration of my own apotheosis. Sight and touch, which I had thought must be the main characters in this drama, played only secondary roles. My eyes desired no greater happiness than to remain fixed on the face of the creature charming them, while my touch, limited to my fingertips, feared to move, since it could conceive of no greater sensation.

It is still cheating, even if nobody comes.

I think I should be in mourning. Many brain cells were lost in the creation of that orgasm." Trixie chuckled. "I appreciate their sacrifice.

Most if not all sexually active people do not really love having sex; they merely love experiencing an orgasm every now and then.

Orgasm coincides with a general hardening of the arteries.

I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut hosing orgasm.

It must be something voluntary, something self induced - like getting drunk, or talking yourself into believing some piece of foolishness because it happens to be in the Scriptures. And then look at their idea of what's normal. Believe it or not, a normal human being is one who can have an orgasm and is adjusted to society. It's unimaginable! No question about what you do with your orgasms. No question about the quality of your feelings and thoughts and perceptions. And then what about the society you're supposed to be adjusted to? Is it a mad society or a sane one? And even if it's pretty sane, is it right that anybody should be completely adjusted to it?

It's almost relaxing to know I'll die fairly soon, as it's a comfort not to obsess about my next orgasm.

Many lovers are ‘off to the races:’ Hurtling towards orgasm, they miss the excitement of sensual meanderings along the way.

Maybe he had become addicted after all—addicted to being the pivot point, to being as central as that crucial joint between copulating man and woman, but with a danger that did not know the bounds of orgasm.

Mmmm I like the sounds you're making," he murmured in a honeyed whisper. "I just bet that you're a screamer. Should I have brought earplugs? Kurt Nielsen

Orgasme mortel! Päs mal sur la pierre tombale.

Orgasms are a myth. Like good credit scores.

O woman, father says natural is beautiful so why do you redden your cheeks and blacken your eyes? Why do you remove the hair on your legs and draw them into your brows? Why do you hold your breath lest your stomach show and hold your fart lest they know that you’re a human? O woman, father says natural is beautiful so why do you straighten your hair to curl it next and pretend to orgasm so they think you enjoyed the sex? Why do you dumb yourself down and push your breasts up? Why do you smile when you’re told to and love when you don’t want to? When? When will you stop, woman? Father says natural is beautiful but that is doubtful for what does father know he’s only a fellow.

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.

Political impotence is finished. Today is the beginning of the orgasm. All the people, I promise you, will feel the orgasm of next year's presidential election.

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.

Sexual thrills are not all physical, and although Parlabane was an unlikely seducer, even on the intellectual plane, it was clear that his desire was, by this prolonged tickling, to bring me to an orgasm of the mind.

She's had a long life. Now she's going to the Lord." "Frankly it creeps me out a little when you say things like that," Simon said. "It shouldn't. If you don't like 'Lord,' pick another word. She's going home. She's going back to the party. Whatever you like." "I suppose you have some definite ideas about an afterlife." "Sure. We get reabsorbed into the earthly and celestial mechanism." "No heaven?" "That's heaven." "What about realms of glory? What about walking around in golden slippers?" "We abandon consciousness as if we were waking from a bad dream. We throw it off like clothes that never fit us right. It's an ecstatic release we're physically unable to apprehend while we're in our bodies. Orgasm is our best hint, but it's crude and minor by comparison.

Some fake happiness, some fake sadness and some fake an orgasm.

Some guys assume that they made this one girl orgasm by doing this one thing and now they do it to every woman they get with. If it doesn’t work on you, then something about you must be broken.

Some people are so sexually unattractive that the thought of masturbating turns them off.

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...

Sam responded to my mental request, his leg tensing and relaxing, and then coming up against my sex, repeatedly, pounding, as I dropped onto him with furious desire. I pulled Sam to me, as I tensed every muscle in my body in one last spasm of agony, and found my glorious release. Then, I came a second time. I held Sam’s head and kissed him, coming a third time as Sam slowed the motion of his leg, and I finally collapsed against him, breathing heavily, fully spent.

Seriously, flooding your body with amped-up sexual intensity is heart stopping. Circulating that energy with your lover and creating a typhoon of orgasmic bliss is freakin’ transcendent!

Sex is not an exam and you do not need an orgasm to pass.

She falls back like a dead weight. The red hair loosens from the hair band and spreads in the colorful surface of the pillows, her white body is in sharp contrast, the gleam in her bloodshot eyes becomes intense and shines. My aunt, lying like this, looks like a goddess in an orgasm, only that, inside, she is suffering. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The same is happening to us, we're really disappearing. I think of the matter of our bodies, changeable, disappearing in the particles of the air while we breathe. In this room, everywhere, we are printed on the walls, in the air that settles on things. I breathe and look at her. I'm stuck in her.

She finally understood that sex was never about orgasms. Sex was merely a vehicle to achieve connection. It wasn't the destination that mattered - only the journey.

Some men do not know the father of 'their' children.

The Female Orgasm. The Big O. That elusive, reclusive Loch Ness of the labia. Does it prove the existence of God, or just His twisted sense of humor?

That's your orgasm talking," I say. "You're not really in love with me." "You can't tell me how I feel," he says. His voice gets quiet, trails off at the end. "I could be your boyfriend.

The generally hostile attitude of dominator society toward sexual expression can be traced to the terror that the dominator ego feels in any situation in which boundaries are dissolved, even the most pleasurable and natural of situations. The French notion of orgasm as "petit mort" perfectly encapsulates the fear and fascination that boundary-dissolving orgasm holds for dominator cultures.

The idea of heart break is spoken of in relation to love, but you were never truly in a state of love or you wouldn't be experiencing heart break, instead you are experiencing the withdrawal of an ego attachment you had to the person.

The kill can be likened to male orgasm. Sex is traditionally thought to be over when the man has an orgasm, and the hunt is never so decisively over as it is after a successful kill. As a teacher, I impatiently listened to a young man matter-of-factly defend the importance of hunting because he found the experience “orgasmic.” From his point of view, all that mattered was how exciting and wonderful the experience was for him.

The last few strokes filled me with searing heat, and electric pulses traveled through my body and my soul, as our orgasms burst forth together, a million nerve endings suddenly flashing like twin rockets exploding fireworks, the multitude of sparks joining with a billion stars in the heavens above.

Then, if to make your ruin more, You'll peevishly be coy, Die with the scandal of a whore And never know the joy.

The orgasm is humanity's driving force. Time freezes and there isn't a feeling of loss, a void, a little death, but a reminder that of all earthly activity, none is more perfect.

The pain of hunger beneath everything. At the end of all love-making, the dreamless sleep after the orgasm, which is like death.

The religion of orgasm: utilitarianism projected into sex life; efficiency versus indolence; coition reduced to an obstacle to be got past as quickly as possible in order to reach an ecstatic explosion, the only true goal of love-making and of the universe.

There's nothing like an orgasm to force a person to think--and more often than not, to think too much.

This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. For as there are billions of different stars that make up the sky so, too, are there billions of different humans that make up the Earth. Some shine brighter but all are made of the same cosmic dust. O the joy of being in life with all these people! I speak of differences because they are there. Like the different organs that make up our bodies. Earth, itself, is one large body. Listen to how it howls when one human is in misery. When one kills another, the Earth feels the pang in its chest. When one orgasms, the Earth craves a cigarette. Look carefully, these animals are beauty spots that make the Earth’s face lovelier and more loveable. These oceans are the Earth’s limpid eyes. These trees, its hair. This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. I will no longer speak of differences, for the similarities are larger. Look even closer. There may be distances between our limbs but there are no spaces between our hearts. We long to be one. We long to be in nature and to run wild with its wildlife. Let us celebrate life and living, for it is sacrilegious to be ungrateful. Let us play and be playful, for it is sacrilegious to be serious. Let us celebrate imperfections and make existence proud of us, for tomorrow is death, and this is an ode to life. The anthem of the world.