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Sexual Pleasure Quotes

Browse 16 quotes about Sexual Pleasure.

Sexual Pleasure Quotes

“Here is my belief. The first man was jealous of the first woman. Her lightning was too powerful, her screams and moans loud enough to wake up the dead. That man could never accept that the gods would gift the weaker woman with such riches, so before every girl becomes a woman, man sets up to steal it, cut it away, and throw it in the bush. But the gods put it there, hid it deep so that no man would have business going to find it. Man will pay for this.”

“The reactionary of any kind condemns sexual pleasure because it stimulates and repulses him at the same time. He is unable to solve the conflict within him between sexual demands and moralistic inhibitions. The revolutionary refutes the perverse, unhealthy kind of pleasure, because it is not his kind of pleasure, because it is not the sexuality of the future, but the sexuality which results from the conflict between instinct and morals, the sexuality of authoritarian society, a debased, smutty, pathological sexuality.”

“The state of bliss is based on having pleasure, the basis of which is sexual pleasure. Without the regular sexual life, there cannot be a state of happiness. However, in sexual intercourse, the essential factor for getting sexual pleasure doesn't depend primarily on this sexual act in itself, but on the fact that the brain should be ready to experience this sexual pleasure -- the impulses receiving during sexual intercourse can rush to the pleasure center of the brain and trigger an orgasm. At this point, the functional state of the female brain, which is very sensitive to external factors, differs from the male brain. The sexual impulses in general can trigger an orgasm in sexual intercourse only if the fear and anxiety center of the brain has been deactivated. But this deactivation does not occur in a similar way in both genders. Neuropsychology says that before the fear and anxiety center has been turned off, in the female brain, any last minute worry -- even if about kids, or getting dinner on the table, not to mention the serious career-related anxiety -- can interrupt the march of sexual impulses toward orgasm. Unlike the female brain, male brain does not experience such difficulties associated with orgasm. For that reason, women in general may be less likely to be happy in social life than men. Perhaps, in some cases, the happy face of a career woman is simply a social mask for others.”

“Lucian's thick, long finger slid into me, and I groaned----a pained sound. "That's it," he rasped, fingering me with agonizingly slow pushes. "Fuck, that's it." I gasped, my head light, my thighs clamping around his hand, as though I could hold in the sensation. "Spread your legs a little wider, honey. Let me in. Good girl." He cupped my neck with his free hand, his forehead pressed to mine. "One day soon, I'm going to work myself into this tight sweet honey box, fuck you for hours." My thighs trembled, heat swimming me as my lower belly clenched. "Lucian." I wiggled my hips. He added another finger, fucking them up into me at an angle that had me keening in pleasure. "Right here, Em. Right here is where I'm aching to be." I wanted him there so badly. My body moved with him, rocking against his hand. "Right here is where I'll worship." He kissed me gently, a simple meeting of mouths, as his thumb snaked out and found my clit. He pressed down, rougher now that I was worked up and at the edge. Just how I liked. White-hot head sparked and lit, and I came in a rushing wave that had me straining against him. "Say my name." He rubbed my slippery sex, fingers deep inside me. "Lucian." I sobbed. "Lucian." His grip on my nape was warm, reassuring as he kissed me. "That's my girl," he said as I came down from my high, my body trembling. "My girl." My focus came back as he slipped free from my panties. He lifted his hand to his mouth and, holding my eyes with his crystalline-green eyes, sucked his wet fingers clean. A wicked smile curved his lush mouth as his voice rolled over me like warm honey. "Delicious.”

“All our categories have thus entered the age of the factitious: no more wanting - only getting people to want; no more doing - only getting people to do; no more being worth something - merely getting something to be worth something (witness advertising in general); no more knowing - only letting know; and, last but not least, not so much enjoying, not so much taking pleasure, as getting people to enjoy, getting people to take pleasure. This is the great problem of the moment: to take sexual pleasure serves no purpose - we are supposed to give sexual pleasure, whether to ourselves or to others. Such pleasure has become an act of communication: I am your guest, you are my guest - we exchange pleasure as part of a performative interactivity. Anyone who seeks gratification without communication is a pig. Do communication machines have orgasms? That is another story - but if we try to imagine orgasmic machines, we can do so only by reference to the model of communication machines. As a matter of fact, such orgasmic machines already exist in the shape of our own bodies - bodies coaxed into coming by the subtlest of cosmetic and pleasure-inducing technologies.”

“He cupped her buttocks in his hands, lifted her up, and guided her down over his shaft with a long sigh. When he was deeply inside her, their eyes locked. Susannah's breasts slid against his chest, both of their bodies sweat-sheened, as she rose up again, knowing instinctively what to do. He smiled faintly, guided her down again. Which is when she saw his eyes go black again with desire and she exulted. She loved this power to give and take, this humbling exchange of strength and vulnerability. "There's a place inside you, Susannah...," he said hoarsely. "Guide me. You'll know it when you feel it. I'll hold on to you." So she lifted up again... and slid down again... and oh, he was right. There was a place. She moved up over him again, with a sultry smile, enjoying this new knowledge, feeling that mysterious need escalating... she held it at bay for as long as she could. Which, as it turned out, wasn't very long at all. For her body took over, found the cadence it craved, and she began to ride him in an instinctive rhythm that grew ever swifter, and he held her, his hips thrusting up to meet hers. The world became the harsh roar of their breathing, incoherent sounds of pleasure, softly groaned words of urging. Susannah could feel her release pushing, pushing at the seams of her, roaring through her veins like a river of stars, until it flooded its banks and burst from her in an exultant cry. The unthinkable pleasure of it rocked her, shook her like a rag; she trembled and trembled from it. Kit held on to her, his own hoarse cry following, and she could feel his seed filling her as she breathed her exhaustion against his neck. Felt his chest heaving against hers as they clung together.”

“He sighed then, and began to move in her, his cadence even, purposeful. She arched to meet each stroke, taking him as deeply into her body as she could; reveling in the pleasure she was giving, in the dark desire she saw in his eyes. And she reveled, too, when control was lost to him. He turned his head away from her when the rhythm of his need took him over, escalated, drummed through her body, his hips quick and fierce. When he turned toward her again, she saw the singular mission in his eyes, the unconscious total pleasure, and from the rush of his breathing knew instinctively it would be soon for him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding him fast. "Oh, God, Susannah. Oh, God." His long body went still; she felt his release shudder through him.”

“He sat up suddenly, swept her into his lap so that she sat across his thighs, and breathed into her ear, touched his tongue there, traced the whorls of it. A silver-hot shiver of sensation coursed through her body. "Do you like that?" he murmured. "I don't know," she half-gasped. "It rather takes... everything over." He dragged a single finger down her throat, over the fine bones of her chest, touched it to the stiff peak of her nipple. "Proof that you most definitely like it," he confirmed in a sultry whisper. She laughed a little, then stopped abruptly, because she needed all of her faculties to enjoy what he'd begun doing to her breasts with his hands. And then they were quiet, and with a tacit sort of agreement, everything was soft as breath, delicate. With lips, and fingertips light as air, with breath itself, she caressed him, and he caressed her. She breathed into his ear, tasted the cord of his neck while his fingers gently, maddeningly, softly, played along her spine, her waist, her belly, the nest of curls between her legs, her throat, her breasts, as though he was bringing music from the most delicate of harps. Until every cell of her vibrated with desperate need. His breath was hot, then cool, in her ear. She finally gave up exploring him and submitted, hooking her arms loosely around his neck, selfishly wanting just to take the pleasure he could give.”

“Gentle hands, soft lips, and hot little breaths down my stomach. Pleasure, a thick syrup pouring over my limbs. My cock rose, growing heavy with desire. We were so new together, by all accounts, I should be panting madly, trying to take over. But I was slowly heating wax molding to her will. Emma palmed me through my briefs, and I grunted. I wanted them off, no barriers between us. As if she heard the silent demand, she kissed my nipple and slowly eased the briefs down. I lifted my butt to help her. My dick slapped against my belly as it was freed. Emma made a noise of appreciation and then wrapped her clever fingers around me. "Please," I whispered. My body was weak, but my need grew stronger, drowning out everything else. She complied, stroking, her lips on my lower abs, teasing along the V leading to my hips. "Em..." My plea broke off into a groan as her hot mouth enveloped me. There were no more words. I let her have me, do as she willed, and I was thankful for it. And it felt so good I could only lie there and take it, try not to thrust into her mouth like an animal. But she pulled free with a lewd pop and gazed up at me. Panting lightly, I stared back at her, ready to promise her anything, when she kissed my pulsing tip. "Go ahead," she said. "Fuck my mouth." I almost spilled right there. She sucked me deep once more, and a sound tore out of me that was part pained, part "Oh God, please don't ever stop." The woman was dismantling me in the best of ways. Waves of heat licked up over my skin as I pumped gently into her mouth, keeping my moves light because I didn't want to hurt her, and because denying myself was outright torture. Apparently, I was into that. She sucked me like I was dessert----all the while, her hand stroking steady circles on the tight, sensitive skin of my lower abs. It was that touch, the knowledge that she was doing this because she wanted to take care of me, that rushed me straight to the edge. My trembling hand touched the crown of her head. "Em. Baby, I'm gonna..." I gasped as she did something truly inspired with her tongue. "I'm gonna..." She pulled free with one last suck and surged up to kiss me, her hand wrapping around my aching dick and stroking it. Panting into her mouth, my kiss frantic and sloppy, I came with a shudder of pleasure. And all the tension, all the pain, dissolved like a sugar cube dropped into hot tea.”

“I slid my thigh between her warm ones. Damp heat ground into my muscle as she clamped down and rolled her hips with a small helpless groan. "That feel good, honey?" She was mostly shadows, and I itched to turn on a lamp so I could see her properly. But that would mean stopping, and I wasn't willing to let her go. I relied on touch, running my fingers along her arm, up to her neck, where sweat dewed on her skin. "You like riding my thigh?" "Yes. Yes." That word again. Best word ever. Her lips tickled mine as she panted, her sweet sex working in a little circle. I cupped her cheek and ate at her mouth as she took her pleasure. I'd been wanting to give it to her for so long. So fucking long. Her hands found my chest and slid down, mapping their way along my torso. It was nothing in the scheme of things, but that simple exploration, the way she whimpered and gasped into my mouth, sent licks of heat over my skin. When her slim hand reached my cock and squeezed me through the barrier of my boxers, a groan tore from me. I shuddered, so close to coming from a furtive grope in the dark it would almost be funny if I weren't so worked up. "Take it out," I rasped, flexing my thigh, knowing she'd feel it. I needed her hand on my bare skin. "Please." Deftly she stole beneath the waistband and wrapped her fingers around my needy dick, giving it a firm tug. Then I was the one whimpering and gasping, fucking into the clasp of her hand because it felt so good. Sweet relief, hot pleasure.”