I felt like an animal, and animals don’t know sin, do they?

I suppose it’s not a social norm, and not a manly thing to do — to feel, discuss feelings. So that’s what I’m giving the finger to. Social norms and stuff…what good are social norms, really? I think all they do is project a limited and harmful image of people. It thus impedes a broader social acceptance of what someone, or a group of people, might actually be like.

I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

My panties were still on but he didn’t let that stop him, nosing them out of the way and tonguing my sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure while it devoured its prey.

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being. I can see no better reason for being alive.

It was the wildness of it that got me going: the primal lust, the sheer needs of two people in heat, quickly finding ways to express their sacred hunger to each other in animal passion.

We were a galaxy exploding into a million pieces, creating a whole new world, as we crashed against each other on the soft surface of his mattress, a cloud in the darkness, our bodies finally falling together like rain.

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.

I love being aroused.I relish that delicious feeling of freedom, the delirium of being naked, and my flesh being born again. It’s like I’m being made new.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

Oh dios mio, she makes me burn, she makes me need. She is etching herself into mi alma

He towered over her, dwarfing her with his height and the bulk of his body which was clothed in the way of a mortal gentleman. He felt and heard that voice tremble inside her, replaced the rational voice she allowed to go unchecked. 'He could break me, hurt me, dominate me'."Not break. Not hurt." he murmured as he raised a hand to her cheek and smoothed his fingers down its softness, "But dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.

Fine!' she snapped, the desperation to have him growing exponentially now. 'I missed you. Only you. No man could ever make me feel like you do. I'm ruined for all others. I renamed all my vibrators after you and none of them get me off like you can. Happy now?'His eyes glazed for a second. '*All* your vibrators?'-Convicted

She's my sun and I'm her moon connected by an invisible thread, bound but free.

She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his kneesExcerpt from To Kiss a King by Grace WillowsComing this summer to Amazon Kindle and paperback.

So sweet and delicious do I become,when I am in bed with a manwho, I sense, loves and enjoys me,that the pleasure I bring excels all delight,so the knot of love, however tightit seemed before, is tied tighter still.

Woman, especially her sexuality, provides the object of endless commentary , description, supposition. But the result of all the telling only deepens the enigma and makes woman's erotic force something that male storytelling can never quite explain or contain.

Tie me up, please..." Chantal said. They looked above at some vines and roots hanging down from the grassy area above the depression in the canal they were standing in. She was in his hands—he had to comply.A little bit of kink was one of the most delicious of erotic pleasures. Catholic school girls were often the horniest—Brett could hardly contain his elation.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of

How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.

To a woman sexual intimacy is more a tool to get mentally close to her partner than merely a means to physical pleasure.

Sex is not just about going in or letting in, it is really about welcoming your dearly beloved into the deepest regions of your psyche which are inaccessible to anybody else.

Sexual intimacy is not the destination, it is the path - the path that leads to mental union.

Stick with me, kid. I’ve got this.” His words were an echo of a promise he made long ago, not long after we first met. He always knew exactly what to say, to do, and that’s the reason I didn’t move away when he brought his lips down to mine. It’s the reason I let my hands slide over his bare chest. They mimicked the way his tongue slid along my lower lip when I sighed and melted into him.

Move your hands, Morgan,” he commanded.“It hurts!” she protested.“It’s supposed to.

. . . [O]nce we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives.""The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling.""Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex.

Every soul needs a touch of erotic love. A deep, unconditional love is what every heart truly desires. True love is passionately erotic.

When it happens and it hits hard, we decide certain things, and realize there's truth in all those dark, lonely days" He had an instantaneous look about him,a glimmer and a glint over those eyes,he knew how the world worked,and took pleasure in its wickedness.He would give a dime or two to those sitting on the street,he would tell them things like:"It won't get any better,"and"Might as well use this to buy your next fix,"and finally"It's better to die high than to live sober,"His suit was pressed nicely, with care and respect,like the kind a corpse wears,he'd say that was his way of honoring the dead,of always being ready for the oncoming train,I liked him,he never wore a fake smileand he was always ready to tell a story about how andwhen"We all wake up alone," he said once,"Oftentimes even when sleeping next to someone, we wake up before them and they are still asleep and suddenly we are awake, and alone."I didn't see him for a few days,a few days later it felt like it'd been weeks,those weeks drifted apart from one another,like leaves on a pond's surface,and became like months.And then I saw him and I asked him where he'd been,he said,"I woke up alone one day, just like any other, and I decided I didn't like it anymore.

Look at the huge success of Fifty Shades of Grey. The girl in the book lets a rich guy beat her and ritually rape her, and she likes it! She finds it erotic! But imagine if Christian Grey wasn't a billionaire. Imagine if he lived in a dirty old trailer down by the river. Then that story wouldn't be a sexy romance novel, but an episode of CSI.

She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex's ground floor.The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria's Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase "confidence," or "sexual appeal," or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground.One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.

If just one person has done it, it can be done. by V.L. Marshall

Believe in YourselfWhy must we see something to believe in its existence?The wind itself cannot be seen by man, but all have felt it's gentle touch and watched the mighty trees bow as it swept past.We cannot see love yet its nurturing warmth is the essence of our being and sorrow can touch our very soul. For remorse is like a ripple on the ocean, once given it remains only in the heart of the receiver.Yet all of these cannot be seen only felt. Why then do you doubt your self-worth? For though it cannot cast a reflection in the mirror you have only to look in the eyes of those you love toSee it clearly.Prologue To Kiss a KingTo Kiss a King Copyright © 2017 by Julie Brookshier and Robin WoodsAll rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without written permission of one or more of the authors.This is a fictional work. Names, characters, places, and events are merely the product of the authors' imaginations or used fictitiously, purely for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead or any business establishments, events or places past, present, or future, is entirely coincidental.

Love is the true state of the human heart. When we love, we unguard our hearts. We open ourselves up to the world with- out any restraint. When passion flows, desires stir, our earthy senses become dull, and our ethereal self becomes illumined. At this stage, we are naked, totally naked, with little or no covering of ego.

Someday my prince will come,” she lamented softly, “too fast.

I… I can’t. I wish I were a little bolder.”“What for?” the Hatter asked. “Being a small rock wouldn’t be much fun.

Squeezing her eyes shut, hating every moment, the put a single finger in and moved it around.“There’s nothing,” she lamented.“Go deeper.”Alice did.“Deeper.”“There’s nothing,” she yelled, pulling out her hand in anger and humiliation.“Of course there is nothing,” the Hatter said. “Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing?”“So why did you make me do it?” Alice demanded.“Because it was really hot,” he answered.

The air between them was electric, the scent of his aftershave was intoxicating and she could feel the testosterone bouncing off him. She could immediately tell he was a powerful man.

Most of the books of erotic poetry available today are either too old or are big anthologies covering the same poets and poems. There is a lack of new and original work. Most of us have read something from Ovid, Sappho, Shakespeare, the ancient Greeks, the Romans, or from the Kama Sutra. But love is a theme that should be celebrated with freshness.

They are my men and this ship my responsibility. I vowed no woman would ever alter my path. Yet I kept them from ending you, and it makes me sick to the gut, for I would still rather die myself than see one hair on your head damaged by another man.

He was the piece of paper she would set on fire.

I believe eros dwells in our innermost being as the spirit of creative expression. To me, eros is a great path that we must walk, a song we listen to, a game that we hunt and enjoy, a lesson to learn, a garden where flowers bloom, a prodigious puzzle to solve, a book to read, a chapter to write, and an ocean to swim in. That’s what eros is to me.

Here, illuminated at last,Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty;Sweet moments of passion and healing,Of sensual release.

He was the kind of man I wanted: wild, hot, horny, and losing control. And it all pointed back to me, about how much I felt in control of him, with the power of my body.

I heard him sweeping with the broom, and then he suddenly stopped.I had obviously got his attention, and he was lo

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

He was the kind of man I wanted: wild, hot, horny, and losing control. And it all pointed back to me, about how much I felt in control of him, with the power of my body.I felt so in control of him; it was dizzying, and intoxicating.

He handed the dust pan and brush over. I knew they wouldn’t be much use in cleaning the floor. I also knew the real reason he had given them to me: so he could look furtively at me, as I bent over.That idea turned me on. I welcomed it, and decided to give him a good look at what he wanted.

You know, there’s no pleasure like the joy of being a sexual woman. You can take your careers, your money, your houses and possessions, and you go and throw them in a lake. Because life is really all about sex. That’s what I keep learning, again and again. It’s the most important thing, woven into the very centre of life. And I just know I was put on this earth to be a sexual woman, and to explore as much about sex as I can.

I’d love to be tried out,’ I said, with a suggestive smile. ‘One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.’I saw a little flicker of fun in his eyes.

I stood in front of him, frustratedly imagining his naked muscular chest, and wanting his hot cock to spear me. My nipples were aroused, feeling as hard and long as coat hooks. They prodded fiercely through the thin blue material at him, like little calling signs of how horny and ready for sex I was. The best advertisement of all: erect nipples!

He looked at me, and then looked away quickly.But I could tell he was interested.I think my tight t-shirt might have had something to do with it. And the way I was pushing my breasts towards him, with an inviting smile on my face.

I traced a finger along my bottom lip as I wondered what his erection would look like, and how I should seduce him. I thought what kind of approach would work best: whether to go in slow and seductively, or whether I should make him notice me in some hard and fast way.

When you’re honest, what compares with the gorgeous thrill of sex? What brings you the same sense of wonder, pleasure, and fulfilment? I can’t think of anything as good.

I love being aroused. I love how that feeling overcomes me, as I look at a man’s erect cock, as I feel his hands ripping my clothes from my body, as the air caresses my naked skin, and how I feel like I’m blossoming like a flower.

You know, when I see a good-looking man, the first thing I think about is sex. I want to see him naked, and I imagine running my hands impatiently over his hot body.I can’t help it: it’s just how I am.

He closed the door behind us, and led me through to the back of the shop. ‘If you don’t mind, you can get changed in the stock cupboard,’ he said. ‘We’re not posh enough here to have staff changing rooms, but you’ll soon get used to it.’‘Oh, don’t worry, Chris,’ I said warmly. ‘I’m used to getting my clothes off in unusual places.

Excuse me,’ I said cheerily. ‘Is the job still going?’ I pointed to the notice.‘Of course,’ he said, looking back at me with a warm smile. I think he was as hopeful as I was about where this could lead to. ‘We need all the hands we can get.’I looked at the tight swell of his shirt against his chest, and thought, 'Mmm, yes, I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

Once I had a wild fling on an otherwise boring weekend holiday in Edinburgh, with a guy I met who turned out to be a psychiatrist. He agreed with me, after hours and hours of our naked cavorting in a hotel, that I was a sex addict; although he did stress he wouldn’t change me for the world. It turned him on that I was so sexual, and we turned a dull weekend in a grey city into something wonderful for the two of us.So, what was the problem?

The dominant in him not liking me turning my back on him but the man in him dying to have me. The fire in his eyes scared and excited me at the same time because I knew in that moment he said fuck the rules.

Imagine how wild a night like this could be if you enjoyed the time spent and enjoyed the mind of the person beneath your sheets?

I feel claimed and bonded to him like animals do. I feel like I've already been caught and trapped and he's merely priming me, leaving me to simmer in my juices, anxiously waiting for the moment when he takes his first bite of me.

We tend to think of the erotic as an easy, tantalizing sexual arousal. I speak of the erotic as the deepest life force, a force which moves us toward living in a fundamental way.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I can’t promise a future or that I’ll be some sniveling boyfriend who pines away after you once I go back to L.A. But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes.“I can promise you that I’m going to take you to new heights that you’ve never imagined. That I’ll make you feel pleasure so intense that you forget your name. I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy.“If you let me, Tori, I’ll open up a whole new world to you. I’ll make you fly.

One second, he was in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the broad head of him; the next, his hands were on my waist and I flipped onto my front. He nudged my legs apart with his knees, spreading me as he gripped my hips, tugging them up, up before he sheathed himself deep in me with a single stroke.I moaned into the pillow at every glorious inch of him, rising onto my forearms as my fingers grappled into the sheets.

Please,” I gasped out.He just brushed his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth.“Tamlin,” I begged. He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and he buried himself in me with a mighty stroke.For a moment, I was nothing, no one.Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again.I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength.For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room.I frowned as he withdrew at last—but he didn’t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts.

I've never understood why the majority of human curses and insults refer to the erotic sphere. Sex is wonderful and associated with beauty, joy and pleasure. How can the names of the sexual organs be used as a vulgar synonym for ̶

Anger is like sex urge, once gratified, the inner voice calls you a stinking fool.

Sexually progressive cultures gave us literature, philosophy, civilization and the rest, while sexually restrictive cultures gave us the Dark Ages and the Holocaust.

She tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth as we kissed, our tongues playing together.

I'm good at blowjob.

The more I thought about it, the more I began to grasp the fact that I was being offered a life changing opportunity. A chance to experience something which few people ever even thought about let alone embraced. ‘It will be an adventure,’ she said calmly. ‘For all of us.

Women’s imagination – unlike men’s, I would argue – does not always need the erotic equivalent of Semtex to ensure detonation.

So…” Nolan smirked. “Are you going to tell me why you had a trunk load of pleasure devices delivered to your door, or are we going to just keep ignoring the giant box of sex toys in the room?

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it? - Emma

Hey, beautiful. - Joe Covelli

Life will hack off your head and shit down your neck every chance it gets. I've found that consuming drugs and booze, listening to music and always having an excuse in the best way to tip the scales.

So many choices and temptations tonight. - Emma

Got the itch? - Jared

I lost myself there — my mind imaging what was under his towel and what I would like to do to him. - Emma

I lost myself there — my mind imagining what was under his towel and what I would like to do to him. - Emma

BDSM is not liberating nor does it promote equality between men and women.

Her long body stiffened against him. Her cool fingers tightened in his shaggy fur, and her bare, clinging heels dug deep into his heaving flanks. She was sweet against him, and the clear logic of this new life conquered the dreary conventions of that old, dim existence where he had walked in bitter death.

I couldn't hear anything or anyone, there was only the sound of our sex and the smell of books.

There's more to the erotic life than explicitness.

Sex swims in marriage, while sex sinks in sin of being single.

The moment her hymen was plucked from her body in the wilderness, Her soul was taken from sanity.

Perversion is just another form of art. It's like painting or drawing or sculpting. Except instead of paint, us perverts use sex as our medium.

Amazing sex stays with you. It soaks into your skin. It floats through your dreams and has you silently smoldering with delicious remembrances for hours after. It has you craving it days later. And it has you aching for it if you don’t get it for awhile.

I push back against him, meeting his forceful pounds with my eager pu*sy. Riding the razors edge of climactic heaven.

Funny how I keep forgetting you’re insane.” - Colleen O’Brien

Identify yourself,” Colleen demanded. “I’ve got a bat and I will beat the living shit out of you if you so much as blink. I’ve got a black belt,” she lied frantically, “and…and…a gun. A big one.” - Colleen O’Brien

Food shouldn’t be that shade of green, lass.” – Faolán MacIntyre

His deep voice drifted to her through the crowd of women. “…my lady when she returns. Och, there ye are, Blossom,” Faolán grinned, standing up and taking her hand so she could ease back into the restaurant booth. “These lasses were just asking if I was a stripper. I told them I doona think so,” he said, his face clouded with uncertainty. “I’m not, am I?”The inquisitive lasses in question flushed scarlet and scattered to the four corners of the room at the murderous look on Colleen’s face. “No, you’re not, but I guess I can see how they’d think that,” she muttered darkly. “What you are is a freaking estrogen magnet.

Submitted for your approval--the curious case of Colleen O’Brien and thegorgeous time traveling Scot who landed in her living room.” – Rod Serling

Och, lass. Yer going to have to not do that.” Faolán exhaled. “Creeping up on a man is a dangerous thing, and I confess I’m jumpier than most. Yer feet are soft as a cat’s.”“I wasn’t creeping anywhere, I was going to make coffee and this is my house, I’ll creep anywhere I like,” Colleen muttered with a petulant scowl. “But I wasn’t creeping.

You turn the lights on and off here and if you can’t sleep and want something to read there are books in the living room…” her voice broke off. “Wait. Can you read?”His chin took a slight tilt upward. “Aye,” Faolán replied, his voice cool, “in English, Gaelic, Latin, or French. My Welsh is a bit rusty, and I doona remember any of the Greek I was taught except for words not fit for a lady’s ears. I can also count all the way up to…” He looked down and wiggled his large bare toes, “…twenty.” – Faolán MacIntyre

Refusing to lean back against him, Colleen sat ramrod straight until they reached the road. “I guess I should say thank you for saving my life,” she muttered then turned and slapped Faolán hard across the face. “And that’s for you having to save it in the first place. And I’m not your woman, you big, arrogant, lying, betraying…faery loving…” She searched for the perfect insult and couldn’t find one, “…Scot.” She gave a very unladylike snort. “Happy now? That fiery enough for you?

Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy, in the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, harkening to its deepest rhythms so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, or examining an idea.That self-connection shared is a measure of the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife.This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all. For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe.

... The use of your gift for good is your responsibility. You must decide for yourself.

Have you ever believed in something so completely that you were willing to give up everything and everyone in your life to protect it?

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

My eyes refuse to let him leave, but he stands still holding my hand, lingering for as long as possible.

We are one.

Living erotically is opening oneself up to nature-- externally and within.

Pandora's Box could not be unopened, no one could return to Eden.

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.” His hand brushed her cheek. “At least not hard.”“That’s a joke, right? Because I have proof you do bite hard.

Jason woke to a feeling of fear, borne from a dream that he couldn’t remember when waking. But as his mind focused, he found the dream right before him. The half-woman lay perfectly molded against his body, her wings draped down her back.

The exotic and the erotic ideals go hand in hand, and this fact also contributes another proof of a more or less obvious truth - that is, that a love of the exotic is usually an imaginative projection of a sexual desire.

You're only as old as your boy toy...

The human erotic imagination is a vast wilderness of sexual possibilities. We are each capable of enjoying a pleasurable, satisfying and potentially ecstatic sex life. Yet our culture encourages us to keep the window of possibility very narrow, limiting our erotic expression to a short list of approved activities and energies. To truly experience sexual freedom, you must reclaim your erotic imagination and allow yourself to make your sex life a work of art, your very own creation designed to fulfill your unique needs and desires.

I need you." Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses.

He was staring hard, not at his wife and me but at his daughter watching us. In his cold pupil, in the firm twist of his lips, was reflected Madame Miyagi's orgasm reflected in her daughter's gaze.

Never miss a minute to Sexercise your mind!

When you can cross the highwire without falling off, you are in a state of perfect balance, perfect grace. It is the same with obedience. When you submit, submit totally, you enter that same equilibrium, surrender and grace. This is the meaning of erotic.

But then he combs his fingers through my hair, starting at the base of my neck, and I shiver with uncontrollable, unexpected pleasure.

Inside, there was a bed, and upon the bed there was a woman. More beautiful was she even than the damask rose while her scent, drifting through the open window, was that of the night dew. Her hair was silken as the raven's wing. Quite naked, she lay, so still upon the bed, her eyes closed in reverie.The young man looked first upon her breasts, where her hand rested. And upon each breast, there was a rosebud nipple. Upon each nipple there was a tip most tender. Upon each tip there was a milky drop. Chin lifted, lips parted, she milked her maiden breast.'What I would give to suckle at that teat,' thought he. from 'Against Faithlessness' in Cautionary Tales

A kiss is such an amazing thing -- So simple, so complex. The only human act that gives while it receives. Mouth to mouth, it almost seems the eating of one another. Maybe that’s all we are, food for each other. Why, I believe there’s a poem in there somewhere. Another kiss to inspire my muse, Desirée, and I’ll tell you something else you don’t know.

The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.

Oh thank God, please you have to help me!” begged the human. “She tied me up, she wants to kill me!”I arched a brow. “Is that so?”“She’s insane!”I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, the good news is, she’s totally sane. The bad news is my fiancée here is a crazy, homicidal bitch and she wants to kill you.

If someone wants to suck your toes, those toes should be worth sucking.

Trevor cupped his hands around it, felt Zach's heartbeat throbbing between his palms. The skin of the shaft was textured, slightly rippled beneath the surface. The head was as smooth as satin, as rose petals. Trevor rubbed his thumb across it, squeezed gently, heard Zack suck air in through his teeth and moan as he let it out. He could see blood suffusing the tissue just beneath the translucent skin, a deep dusky rose delicately purpled at the edges, crowned with a single dewy pearl of come. It was as intimate, as raw as holding someone's heart in his hands.

Love Rocks The De La Cruz's World

Open your mind. See the world in all its splendid color. Truly look at the uniqueness of the people around you and cherish the nuances. Before you make judgments of others and their lifestyles, always remember that there are a million ways to live and love and be loved, and no one way is right or wrong.

How many rooms are there in the chambers of your heart? How many rooms full of memories can you describe like the one I’m going to tell you about. You know how you left him don’t you? The man you were so in love with once. Bing Cherry Silk. Another man left those for you didn’t he? And you put them on, just like I did.

The erotic drive is the great energy that moves through all evolution.What about love? Where does that fit in?Love's simply the handmaiden of the great energy, and an excuse to write suspect poetry.

Later, he would ask later who Attila was. Now he only wanted Belial's kiss. His heat. His passion. A quick gallop. Frenzied eternity. Insanity multiplied. A perfect, mind-numbing, bone-shattering small death. He wanted it all. Now. Now. Now.

Escaping Reality One Erotic Romance Novel At a Time.

Some stories aren’t black and white…

To me the erotic is the relationship that organically manifests itself between people finding and exploring love. It is the universality of accepting the darkness that makes up human nature, the darkness I find so romantic within that dance, the inevitable opening up that lets in the light of sensuality between two human beings becoming one together without the confines of preconceived morality. In short, an exploration of all the facets of both the subconscious and conscious of light and dark. “Emotional connectedness.

You found it,” she announced.I smiled, knowing what she meant. She and I’d had conversations since I was a small child about finding true love. She’d fallen deep with my grampa, who I hadn’t met, he’d died before I was born in a work accident, but she’d never sought out anyone else. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. She’d told me that some people could find love over and over but others found it once and it was so perfect, so ‘it’ that they’d never look elsewhere, even if they lost it. They’d had such good from it that they were topped up for life.

Our hearts have already been broken. Maybe I can help to heal hers, even if it means ripping mine to shreds when she leaves and I have to say good-bye.

Breathless I look up at him and find him gazing at me with a wonder that my deep-seated insecurity finds hard to believe. Then he does this thing. His fingers start moving on my face, tracing outlines. They trail along my eyebrows, the ridge of my nose, the apple of my cheeks and the line of my jaw. His touch is like feather but his eyes…they blaze and just like that, without saying a single word, he makes me believe.

After a few seconds of scraping, I realize what he has isn’t a trail, it’s a whole forest! Ack! Weren’t all men supposed to shave their chest and stuff nowadays? Whatever happened to having fuzz-free Hollywood heroes as role models? At least my embarrassment is completely foregone by the irritation at his lack of upkeep. The only thing distracting me now is that heady mix of musk, shaving cream and a distinctly…male scent. And God knows that is one seriously jeopardizing distraction. Especially with a whizzing needle in one’s hand.

Right now I'll just be happy if you let me know what would you like to have in breakfast ." She swiftly moved from the platform to the fridge and took some bell peppers out of it. I spotted a bowl of boiled noodles. Perhaps, I would be fine with some change in my menu."some noodles will just be fine,a glass of orange juice." I put my glass in the sink and stepped back to have a better view of her amazing body. "and a bed full of you." I added. Oops, I think that was pretty shameless.-Abstruse.

A shaft of sunlight pierced the dark cluds and she looked up to see a silver lining. It was a sign, she thought.

Do not censor yourself. Let go of that part of your brain and just be.

Be confident in who you are, Cherry Blossom. Confidence and an understanding of who you are is an alluring combination men won't be able to resist.

I am pleased," he said with a rich throaty accent. My heart melted. Simple as they were, those three little words meant the world to me.

Children bring life to the soul.

A Dom intent on developing a relationship will approach you on a personal level first.

.. any Dom who doesn't promote open communication is not developing a healthy relationship.

.. Avoid any Dom with a large ego. Do not mistake arrogance for confidence.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

I feel a deep sense of responsibility when I awaken a submissive. I know the imposters who prowl hoping to pounce on the untried.

Socrates held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. "God gave me these hands to change the world, one child at a time.

Writing is a piece of cake. Editing is a slab of liver.

At that time I also had, for a short while, the strength to bear it. But all too soon I lost external sight of the shape of that beautiful man, and I saw him disappear to nothing, so quickly melting away and fusing together that I could not see or observe him outside of me, nor discern him within me. It was to me at that moment as if we were one without distinction.

I need to punish her.You need her. Just her. Nothing else.Ignoring my mind’s voice, I look at my prey. She’s the reason I am the way I am.It’s all her fault.And she’s going to pay.

Until now, I felt like I had no real purpose in life, I found myself just wandering through the day to day tasks that have no consequence or interpretation to the kind of woman I am. These emotions have been with me for a number of years now, and I often wonder if it has to do with the death of my mother and the suspicious circumstances in which she passed. What is it about Chas that brings new substance to my life?

Everything is red, freakin pink, and all heartsy. Everywhere! It’s driving me insane!

Reaching for the basket of sex accoutrements, she took a thin, red tube, squeezed some clear gel onto her fingertips and returned to fondle his balls. “What’s that?” he asked, feeling a warm, tingling sensation around his genitals.“You not try before?” She smiled saucily.He shook his head.“…Special for you.

That's what underwear is for, girls, so if an emergency happens you only show your cookies to the people you love.

Spiritualizing sex is actually a movement of energy—feeling and emotion—that rises within you and moves into your sexual physicality as an alive, tender, erotic, or passionate expression. Your bodies move without inhibition so all the energy can flow out of you and between the two of you. You allow spiritual energy to express its dance through you. Sexuality can be a profound demonstration of your love, and especially your freedom, to express and bond. Spiritual sex, then, combines how you express your love with the intentions or blessings you bring to your partnership.

Erotic role-play is a powerful sexual outlet which can orgasmically release us from the shackles of convention and normality to express a side of ourselves we otherwise would not have opportunity to convey.

I hired you for your attitude, and so far I’m pretty happy with my decision. But I’m not sure I can work with you until I’ve fucked this attraction out of my system.

She [Bernice] didn’t like anything that had an adult theme, with only one exception, her collection of erotic female memorabilia. They were all antiques, fragments of other women’s sexuality that was somehow easier to deal with than her own.

I will keep my bulk. All of it, if ye dinna mind. I will have need of it, thank ye." Derrick

Fighting with Harper stirred his blood, and walking out on her had only intensified his need, as though the brief separation was more than he could bear. All he could think about was getting back to her. Undressing her. And fucking her until he worked whatever this desperate feeling was out of his system.

I moaned then, tilting my head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on my waist, then moved—one going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us.This—this moment, when it was him and me and nothing between our bodies …His tongue scraped the roof of my mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of me, and I gasped, my back arching. “Feyre,” he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark solstice morning.His tongue swept my mouth again, in time to the finger that he slipped inside of me. My hips undulated, demanding more, craving the fullness of him, and his growl reverberated in my chest as he added another finger.I moved on him. Lightning lashed through my veins, and my focus narrowed to his fingers, his mouth, his body on mine. His palm pushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and I groaned his name as I shattered

He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.

I look at him and my body reacts in a way that it never has before, even in the throes of passion. I look at him and I start aching so deep inside it takes all I can to think, to breathe, to speak. He’s like the brightest flame and it takes everything in me to resist its call.I know that if I give in, I’ll get burned so deeply, there might be nothing left once I come out the other side.But, god, I want to step into that flame.

Vanity is by far my favorite of all sins, and the camera lens is the ultimate vanity mirror. The camera captures all moods and nuances; immortalizes the soft and silky continuum that is humanity. Those still life moments seem so fluid, so representative of continuity. They are a single moment captured, yet an eternity expressed. All your youth; all your ages, captured and expressed in a single click. Of all the indulgences, vanity is certainly my favorite which we should otherwise resist, but are inexplicably captivated by and addicted. What other animal would spend so much time pouting and preening for its reflection? Only humanity would participate in such self-adoration. You would think we have the most colorful feathers or softest of manes. Rather, we are a naked biped that feels incomplete without some decorative element, accessory, or embellishment of the self. We are intoxicated by the image of the body, no different than we are seduced by fine wines, foods, or mind altering elements. We devour the skin, and peel away clothes as if they were the skin of some tropical fruit, covering a colorful and juicy interior. We hunt for bodily pleasures, and collect them as prizes; show them off in social situations as if our companions were some sort of extended adornment to ourselves. We are revealed in our sensuality. To touch beneath the surface; to connect beyond facades, that unattainable discourse between individuals is put tentatively within reach in intimacy. To capture those moments is to capture the essence of what makes us human, and what ultimately sets us above and aside from the rest of nature. Capturing humanity in its most extravagant expressions is intoxicating. Vanity is by far my favorite sin, and it is an endless tale as infinite as humanity. Every person is but a stitch in a giant tapestry.

When you've been everywhere, tried it all and done it all, what's left is the exploration of self, intellectually and sexually, through curiosity and erotica.

Nolan,” she said. “I’m…” Scared. Say it. Tell him the truth. But her mouth remained still against his. She couldn’t tell him how badly she wanted to pull him close, because then she may not let go. She couldn’t tell him how terrified she was that she’d get lost again to another man. He cupped her face, silently coaxing her to finish her sentence. “You’re what, love?”Her eyes met his. “I’m broken.

Rules are made to be broken." - Jared

He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan. "This is mine," he whispers aggressively. "All mine. Do you understand?" He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning. "Yes, yours,

We lay that way for a while, breathing together, watching the shadows flicker over the walls and each other's faces. She played with a wet strand of my hair, wrapping it around her finger. It should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn't. I felt something moving between us, like light or heat, growing with every breath.

Little girl, you could wrap my cock in duct tape, and I'll still make you see God.

A fantasy is something produced in the imagination, allowing you to indulge in a thought life that is very different from what you experience on a day-to-day basis. Within this realm there is no fear of discovery, no worry about being shamed; here there is only the deepest of pleasures.

Compressing her lips together, she gave Mark a baleful glance, eyes flashing pure malice. If he wanted his lips anywhere near hers he’d better be prepared to do battle.‘Now that’s what I’m talking about,’ said Mark, as the corner of his lip began to twitch in amusement.

He was quite possibly the most desirable man she had ever had the good fortune to lay her eyes upon and she had to meet him like this. Life was not fair. A groan of frustration left her lips as her body began to heat once more, blood pumping furiously through her. Oh no, she thought, this cannot be happening yet again. Gritting her teeth she tried to quell her reaction.

I haven’t been with anyone since my break-up with Jackass. Yes, Jackass is his name. Officially.

ripped. I got a glance at his abs when he picked up the woman’s things.   Yeah, I looked up his shirt. What of it? Plenty of men have looked up my skirt. Consider it karma.~Julia

I’m sure you can manage from here”, and without a further word, he walked out of her room, then let himself out of her flat.

Kiss me," he growled."I shouldn't—""I. Don't. Give. A. Damn."Well hell. My lips touched his—barely. I pulled back and looked at him—unfamiliar, dangerous, and so exciting. I devoured his mouth without thinking. Don't think, just touch. I ran my fingers across his strong shoulders and down his arms. His skin felt hot under my hands, his body hard. He sucked in his abs so I could get into his pants, if I wanted to. I slid one hand over his stomach and under his jeans, touching his hard cock, smiling when he groaned.

Right on the edge of fear was where trust could grow.

Sex is a team sport, sugar.

He smiled. A sub shouldn’t be terrified, but a little anxiety was good.

It was good for her though, to submit to things that weren’t for her pleasure, but his.

Although he assumed she’d naturally submit to him, he obviously believed she was still her own person. A strong person.

Do you know about it, Kelsey?” he asked after a while. “Dominance and submission? This thing we’re doing? I don’t know so good how to explain it. Only how to do it.

You are not a crowd. You are not a label. As an individual you have a unique place in my heart and mind.

Men need to realize that women take longer to get aroused and satisfied - sometimes 6 -8 times longer. Make the journey pleasurable.

If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.

Each of us has a heart, a soul, and feelings. Each of us desires to be wanted, to be appreciated, and to be loved. The enchantment in life is to discover and spend time with another person who knows that and expresses it. In this context, the liberation of our naked bodies in the act of lovemaking is what gives us ultimate pleasure.

He towered over her, as intense and savage as only he could be, making her feel small and delicate in comparison, surrounded by his utter maleness. She felt trapped and she wanted to stay in his cage forever.

Each of us is allowed to revel in our own desires, no matter how dark or depraved they may seem; for we are the only ones that know what lies within our own imagination. Inside these erotic visions there is no shame -- only pleasure. It is a chance to dip a toe into something that may have only ever seemed a fleeting thought.

One cowboy is never enough.

I don't believe love or sexual pleasure is a zero-sum game.

I don't want your best. I want your everything.

Your hatred is my foreplay.” - Julian King

Damn it, Harper, I can’t be away from you for even an hour without going out of my fucking mind,” he said against her mouth. “How am I supposed to do my job when all I can think about is getting back to you?

If she’d thought cutting ties with Galen would help her get on with her life, Harper knew that after today, she’d never, ever get him out of her system. He was a drug she couldn’t kick, an addiction she was willing to die for. And as he drew her clit into his mouth and sucked gently, Harper reasoned that there were much, much worse ways to die.

Cooper came back down to the darkened room about half an hour after Lucky had freed his hands. The boat was still rocking, the wind was blowing and Sawyer called out, "Dude, you can't leave the boat on auto-pilot in this kind of weather. Jesus is not here to take the wheel.

Now and then, an inch below the water's surface, the muscles of his stomach tightened involuntarily as he recalled another detail. A drop of water on her upper arm. Wet. An embroidered flower, a simple daisy, sewn between the cups of her bra. Her breasts wide apart and small. On her back, a mole half covered by a strap. When she climbed out of the pond a glimpse of the triangular darkness her knickers were supposed to conceal. Wet. He saw it, he made himself see it again. The way her pelvic bones stretched the material clear of the skin, the deep curve of her waist, her startling whiteness. When she reached for her skirt, a carelessly raised foot revealed a patch of soil on each pad of her sweetly diminished toes. Another mole the size of a farthing on her thigh and something purplish on her calf--a strawberry mark, a scar. Not blemishes. Adornments.

Nestled next to me, she nodded. “I’m fine. As long as I take the medicine. So don’t worry.” She leaned her head back against my shoulder. “But don’t ask me anything, okay? Why that happened.”“Understood. No questions,” I said.“Thank you very much for today,” she said.“What part of today?”“For taking me to the river. For giving me water from your mouth. For putting up with me.”I looked at her. Her lips were right in front of me. The lips I had kissed as I gave her water. And once more those lips seemed to be seeking me. Slightly parted, with her beautiful white teeth barely visible. I could still feel her soft tongue, which I’d touched slightly as I gave her water. I found it hard to breathe, and I couldn’t think. My body burned. She wants me, I thought. And I want her.

The things I want from you, darlin’, will give you nightmares, ones like you’ve never had before. A nightmare that will have you begging me not to wake you up.”--Lucca

If you were truly ‘here for me,’ you would have a Kahlua in one hand and Henry Cavill’s number in the other. Since I’m not having drunken phone sex with Superman, there must be another reason you’re darkening my living room.

Damn, she was getting so tangled up by guilt and desire. ~Nikki in Texas Tangle

Archer tries not to think of his own state of purity, physically unsullied, yet now spiritually beyond redemption, his thoughts plagued by lithe limbs and brilliant blue eyes. Doctor Archer has never really understood women, nor has he ever had time for courtship; this is a sacrifice he has willingly made for his career. He thought - believed - for most of his adult life that his vocation was to tend the sick of mind. Romance was a frivolity, carnal urges something he successfully sublimated, resisting the drive to spoil himself. Now, in the overbearing loneliness of his 4am bed he touches himself in secret, panting and hungry and stunned by shame

What is it about Paris that I just can’t keep my hands off of you?” I ask him in between kisses.“It has nothing to do with Paris and everything to do with my raw sexuality, baby. I’m fucking irresistible,” he growls just before he shoves his tongue down my th

His witch had finally arrived. He knew it within his heart and he danced, giddy as a schoolboy on the first day of summer vacation.

The day I met you is the day by which all others will be measured. — Levi Ian Bryson

As though I had displeased the gods with my erotic hubris, I managed to be the only bisexual girl in the history of colleges who failed to arouse the interest of the campus queers immediately upon setting foot in the dorms.

Another unary photograph is the pornographic photograph (I am not saying the erotic photograph: the erotic is a pornographic that has been disturbed, fissured). Nothing more homogeneous than a pornographic photograph. It is always a naive photograph, without intention and without calculation. Like a shop window which shows only one illuminated piece of jewelry, it is completely constituted by the presentation of only one thing: sex: no secondary, untimely object ever manages to half conceal, delay, or distract... A proof a contrario: Mapplethorpe shifts his close-ups of genitalia from the pornographic to the erotic by photographing the fabric of underwear at very close range: the photograph is no longer unary, since I am interested in the texture of the material. The presence (the dynamics) of this blind field is, I believe, what distinguishes the erotic photograph from the pornographic photograph. Pornography ordinarily represents the sexual organs, making them into a motionless object (a fetish), flattered like an idol that does not leave its niche; for me, there is no punctum in the pornographic image; at most it amuses me (and even then, boredom follows quickly). The erotic photograph, on the contrary (and this is its very condition), does not make the sexual organs into a central object; it may very well not show them at all; it takes the spectator outside its frame, and it is there that I animate this photograph and that it animates me.

Erotic longing is really a longing to merge with something greater than oneself. For every kind of love is a force that holds the promise of taking us beyond the limitations of our individual lives.

Sometimes our balance has to be upset and our course reset in order to help us navigate to our final destination. This is my final destination and where I was meant to be.

What are friends for, but to help each other get through bad times and have multiple orgasms?

I want you both." I said quietly, not caring that my cheeks had grown warmer. "I have for a while.""If we try this—" Tyler took a deep breath. "And it doesn't feel right—""We'll stop." Kacey promised as he slid his hand beneath my halter neck and began caressing my skin. "You say it baby, and we'll stop and forget all about it."My stomach flipped at the feel of his fingers circling my navel. "And if I don't want to stop?"An unreadable look crossed Tyler’s face and my heart skipped as Kacey moved behind me. The warmth of his body seeped into my back, while his fingers painted trails of heat across my abdomen and along my ribs."Then what happens in Silver Creek, stays in Silver Creek. Unless you decide otherwise." Kacey pressed his lips to my ear. A shiver ran down my neck and spine. "Does that sound fair?

Right, I can't watch this shit." Kacey grunted as he got up. "It's one thing getting a hard-on over you, baby girl. The fact that Tyler happens to be in the picture…I'm freaking slightly.

We need to get you laid."Despite the fact she couldn't see my face, my brow furrowed. "How is that going to help?""Rebound sex is exactly what you need right now, sweaty, dirty, work-your-frustration-out sex. In fact, I have the perfect guy in mind—"I jolted up quickly at the sound of a firm tapping. I looked over at the window to see Kacey's sun kissed face, his shades resting at the edge of his long nose, baby blue eyes fixed on me.I placed my hand over my thumping heart. "You ass.""Bitch?""Not you, Jayne." I climbed off my bed. "Kay and Ty are here.""Speak of the devil, and his sexy ass will most definitely appear.

I just think that 'dating' is an engagement and not 'fun'." Emily says.

It looks like you're mocking me as if I am a girl who still believes in Santa Claus." Emily says.

Emily is grateful to this man and gradually she begins to immerse herself into the world of Tiger's obsession.

The first morning I really sat and watched him it was a Tuesday. I know that because Tuesday is trash day for our neighborhood. Unlike me, he leaves gathering up his trash for the morning of pickup instead of doing it the night before. My alarm went off at 6 AM and I went in to start the coffee maker, and as I went about selecting a bit of fruit from the bowl on my kitchen table I looked out the window. It was just a casual glance, and the human eye is attracted to movement.

Calm your tits, pussycat.

Then go get dressed for your Master,"Danny said with a slow,dark smile."The snake and Eve worked together,you and I will too. We'll make sure our Adam enjoys Eden before he leaves. We'll give himstrawberry so sweet it will sustain him through a whole, miserable lifetime of bland vanilla.

Darn! what a beautiful night! Heading towards Pandara Road-Gulati Restaurant, with open windows of my baby sedan and this broad chest guy with big brown eyes.He hums the oldies well and his Issey Miyake is making me lose the grip over my senses.One more thing is distracting me, he ain't wearing anything inside but a transparent white, V necked, cotton short Kurta.I can see the hair winking out and his collar bones!!Not only men get excited by transparent dresses but women as well.His broad shoulders and chest is my weakness and he knows it.This man is not doing good to me!It's a crime to seduce in this way, when you are not touched, when you are distracted by the aroma of his skin, when you know, he is well aware of the intentions..when you can't do anything except getting seduced by the corner stretching smile of a man with animal instinct..I certainly am missing myself to be tied up to the bedpost,choked and groaning his name!

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.” -Jake

There’s nothing like a friendly handshake to establish social cooperation, but the bonobo handshake takes erotic politics to a whole new level.