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Quote by E.M. Forster

“«Volte, espero hoje à noite na casa do lago., Penge, Alec.»: uma bela mensagem para ser transmitida através do posto de correios local! (...) Que bela situação! Continha todas as promessas de chantagem, e na melhor das hipóteses era de uma incrível insolência. Claro que não devia responder, e estava agora fora de questão oferecer um presente a Scuder. Tinha saído fora da sua classe, e era bem feito. Mas, apesar disso, durante a noite todo o seu corpo ansiou pelo de Alec. Chamava a isso luxúria, uma palavra fácil de dier, e contrapunha a ela o seu trabalho, a sua família, os seus amigos, a sua posição na sociedade. Nessa coligação devia certamente incluir a sua vontade. Pois se a vontade conseguir saltar por cima das classes, será o fim da civilização tal como a fizemos. p.238, MAURICE, E.M. FORSTER ----------------------------------------------”

Quote by E.M. Forster

Book:Maurice
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Maurice

Set in the late 19th century, the story follows the protagonist's journey as he navigates complex relationships and societal expectations. more

Author

E.M. Forster

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“Then he drops his head back down, pulls my panties all the way to my ankles, and finally makes contact. I fall back against the bed, gasping at the soft, hot, wet feel of Callum's mouth on the most sensitive spot of my body. This is way, way better than any dream. The slow circles he makes with his tongue send heat through every inch of me. Callum is the master of slow burn, setting me on fire from the inside out with just his tongue. It doesn't seem to matter where he chooses to taste me. Every single time his mouth makes contact, I'm engulfed in flames. I'm gasping, whimpering, moaning his name. He hums his approval. He speeds up, then slows down. Then repeats it again and again. Everything he does, it's all divine. With my body on fire, my brain in a pleasure-mush state, I can't form words; only sounds. Pressure builds behind the heat, like I'm boiling over. I twist both hands into the pillow, supporting my head. It's either that or rip the hair from his scalp, because I absolutely cannot handle this level of ecstasy. Callum increases the pressure and then throws in a wild card: suction. Holy hot damn. My whimpers turn into screams. The pressure between my legs builds and builds until every limb is shaking. Just then he eases up, and I finally catch my breath. But then he's back at it, humming against me. I could swear I hear him chuckling. Before I can be sure, he's amping up the pressure, speeding up until I'm thrashing. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold on. Seconds, maybe. But minutes? No way on God's green Earth. More pressure, more suction, then bam. Explosion. The simmering slow burn is nowhere to be found. This is a volcanic eruption of ecstasy. It's every muscle ablaze, tensing as climax claims me. It's me shouting, gasping, panting, tugging at the bedsheets, tugging at Callum. It's babbling, going cross-eyed, ending in a sweat-soaked pile in the middle of the bed and never, ever feeling more satisfied than in this moment.”

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Book:Simmer Down
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