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Sexual Quotes

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Sexual Quotes

“Sexual union is only truly fulfilling when both parties are at the same level and definition of love. The same exchange of energy. It’s like music. Alone you have your own tune, but when it’s combined with another it can a magical, divine experience. Each part has to know when it leads, like the melody, and when it complements, like the harmony.”

“Your generation has been the target of incredible disinformation on the subject of premarital sex, which is another enticing addictive behavior to be considered. In this instance, our own government is responsible for much of the confusion. For some thirty years, federal and state programs have promoted a concept its promoters call "safe sex," which refers to the use of condoms in sexual intercourse. Billions of dollars have been spent telling young people that they can have sex—lots of really good sex—without suffering from the consequences of it. Condoms, they say, will solve all the problems.”

“She'd stutter all the reasons why she shouldn't, shaking her head adamantly. But her body..her body would grow hot with excitement. She'd get wet at the thrill of it. So fucking wet that i'd smell her, telling me she's not even wearing panties to smother her spicy scent. When my hand touched hers, still clutched to her chest, she'd flinch but she wouldn't pull away. She'd let me guide it between her swollen breasts and down to her flat belly, brushing the bit of exposed skin where the hem of her shirt rides up. Then I'd let her fingers play with the jewel in her navel, manipulating each digit as if that diamond-studded barbell was her clit. Demonstrating how I would stroke it for her.”

“In retrospect, I didn’t really want to be a slut. What I wanted and needed was a therapist who would consent to fucking me, but I doubted my parents’ insurance would have covered that. I had a lot to figure out for myself and I did that by making poor decisions that summer. If some wise, authoritative adult could simply have explained why I wanted to do these things and then done some with me, I think I would have refrained from most of my sexual misadventures...”

“The lessons of relationship that our primordial ancestors learned are deeply encoded in the genetics of our neurobiological circuits of love. They are present from the moment we are born and activated at puberty by the cocktail of neurochemicals. It’s an elegant synchronized system. At first our brain weighs a potential partner, and if the person fits our ancestral wish list, we get a spike in the release of sex chemicals that makes us dizzy with a rush of unavoidable infatuation. It’s the first step down the primeval path of pair-bonding.”

“In the 1980s, research on post traumatic stress disorder in Vietnam veterans was regarded as important, noble, and useful. When the same researchers looked at the same problem in children who had been sexually abused, a tremendous controversy ensued a controversy that persists to this day. There were those who disputed the extent and severity of the sexual abuse that had been uncovered.”

“I walked into his hotel room,
a knowing smile dancing on my lips.
He met me with a touch—soft, certain—
slipping my jacket from my shoulders,
leaving only lace and longing between us. His kiss met mine, deep and unhurried,
a taste I still savor when I close my eyes.
His hands, his mouth, tracing fire along my skin,
pulling me into him, onto him,
until there was no space left, only us. He kissed me like he missed me,
like he had dreamed of this moment as much as I had.
And when he went lower,
my body arched into bliss,
his name barely a whisper, lost in pleasure. Then my lips found him,
and the way he moaned—
God, I wanted to hear that sound forever.
He stretched me, filled me,
pain and pleasure tangled in the most beautiful way. We moved, we melted,
his kisses marking me in ways I’d never let fade.
And when I lay against his chest,
breathless, spent,
I knew—no other man would ever do. I went home, but something stayed behind,
a part of me woven into him.
And I won’t let another touch me,
because I refuse to erase the memory of being his.”

“Lovecraft says he knows about tentacles but that motherfucker never bedded a girl from West Chester and survived She was a toothache that one and she tasted like crack the best thing about her was if I was ever hungry I could always make a meal out of whatever was making rest at the corners of her mouth I can't remember her name as is the case with most of them then again I can't remember how many donuts I ate this morning or how many beers I'll drink tonight, tomorrow”