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Quote by Steven Herrick

“He looks again towards the door, expecting Mum to walk in and remind him of something he's forgotten. He smiles awkwardly. 'Is that it, Dad? I've got to go.' 'Your Mum said I should mention ... um ... satisfaction.' 'What!' 'She said young men should know things, should be told things so that the girl won't be ...' his eyes plead for understanding, '... disappointed.' [...] 'No worries, Dad. My biology teacher said I was a natural.' Dad looks confused. 'I'm kidding, Dad.' [...] Poor bloke, having to do the dirty work while Mum's off with her gang. 'Dad? What did Grandpa tell you about sex?' 'He said if I got a girl pregnant, he'd kill me.”

Quote by Steven Herrick

Book:Slice

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Slice

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Steven Herrick
Steven Herrick

Steven Herrick, born in 1958, is an influential Australian poet known for his unique style and profound insights into life. His poetry has won numerous awards and has had a significant impact on contemporary Australian literature. more

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“Admit it. You just had sex,” Alice hissed. Cali’s jaw dropped open. “That’s none of your business,” she replied in outrage, “and how the hell did you know?” Alice shook her head “You’re glowing orgasmically. It’s disgustingly sweet. And Kent looks ridiculously relaxed and possessive.” Brushing her best friend away and flushing a little, Cali pretended to look for her salad tongs. “Mind your own business.” “Fine,” Alice grumbled. “Don’t tell me all the dirty details.” She paused for a beat. Then added, “It was rear entry, wasn’t it?” Cali almost strangled on her shock and indignation. “It was not.” Alice chuckled maliciously. “Don’t lie to me. He has that macho glint in his eyes. I’d know that look anywhere. I’m an anthropologist, remember? And mating rituals are one of my specialties.”

“It's a guy thing. We like euphemisms. He could just as easily have said doing the nasty, shagging, banging, screwing, humping, baking the potato, boning, boom-boom, four-legged foxtrot, glazing the donut, hitting a home run, launching the meat missile, makin' bacon, opening the gates of Mordor, pelvic pinochle, planting the parsnip, releasing the kraken, rolling in the hay, stuffin' the muffin, or two-ball in the middle pocket..." He trailed off when he noticed their shocked expressions. "Or sex," he added. "He could have just said that." "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend." Layla gave him a withering look. "I can't imagine a woman who would stick around after you took her for a nice dinner and then said, Hey babe, let's go launch the meat missile , or my personal favorite, release the kraken." "I didn't say I used them." Sam loosened his collar. Why was the restaurant so damn hot? "You know them. That's bad enough." Dilip tipped his head to the side. "What's a kraken?" "That's what I'm going to do to Sam's head in about three seconds," Layla said. Sam smirked. "A kraken is an enormous mythical sea monster." "Are we in middle school?" Layla looked around the bare room in mock confusion. "Because I could swear you were just talking about the size of your-”

“I've never felt anything like it. I usually have trouble..." "Coming?" "Well, yes, I mean, it's fine by myself. But hard. At other times. With people. But this time it wasn't... difficult." "Well, great. He's had a lot of practice." "Don't be mean." "I'm not, but you want me to act like great sex is the end of the world." It is the end of the world, I thought. "No. But it feels big. I can't explain it, I feel, womanly or something." "You think it's womanly to get fucked?" She had her clawed tones out and I retreated. "I don't want to argue about gender theory. I just feel like something real happened. And I wanted someone to talk to about it. Like a friend." "Let me guess," she said, tapping the spoon against the tablecloth. "He beat you up a little bit, called you a slut, and you thought that was really edgy, another spoiled white girl who wants to get slapped around because she always got everything she wanted." "Fuck, Ari." I shook my head. "It must be hard. To have already sized up the world, to already have written it off completely. Is it just so fucking boring all the time?" "Pretty much, Skip." "I would rather be called a slut by him than deal with the shit I get from the women here." I picked up my bowl. "Also, you're fucking white. By the way. And you don't get a medal for being gay.”

“Most women want coaching in one particular aspect of life." "What aspect?" "Coitus." Emma pumped her fists and rocked her hips. "Also known as fornication, doing it, getting laid, knocking boots, doing the Devil's dance, shagging, screwing, nailing, banging, or doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch." Jack swept my hair away and pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck, allowing a wave of heat rippling across my skin. "I have another word," he whispered. "We can try it out tonight.”