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...

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.

Do you find it erotic how my pants bulge in the crotch, where I keep my coffee cup?

Your erotic,A memoir of pleasure.Caress the streets as through they held the touch of mink,Leaving only trails of stardust.Your eyes could Pierce hearts, leaving eternal scars of that moment,Moments so bittersweet they linger upon the tastebuds of those who dare glance.You, Stain eyes with curiosityI dare not blink.

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

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

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

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...

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...

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

So you mean to tell me you won’t fuck anyone you don’t share some kind of deep emotional connection with? What a sad, depressing, truly horrible life you must lead…

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?

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...

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.

What you are is a freaking estrogen magnet.

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

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.

Being with Mary was different because…he wasn’t the only one who wanted to make love to her.The beast wanted her, too. The beast wanted out so it could take her.

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.

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...

He props his elbow on the table,absently scratches his temple with his index finger, and I remember exactly what that index finger did to me earlier. How he circled my nipples with that finger, how he slipped it between my legs, drenched it with my wetnessand then brought it up to his mouth, licking it,...

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...

Once it arrives, erotic sex cannot be chased or grasped at, for it shows itself when you’re not looking.

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.

A Toyota is not a toy. At least not a sex toy. However, my driving is both erratic and erotic. Tickets are ten dollars per passenger. Senior citizen discounts not available.

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

Almost everybody gets tired and bored by one lackadaisical topic. If you hit them with something delicious, like a sexy adventure, then the world will want to hear you speak, mind you! Don’t become a vulgarian.

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

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

Nothing could hide the dancing darkness of a nightmare that was soul deep.

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

Oh, adorable, delicious Amelie. If I weren’t so completely straight and enamored with cock, I would devour this sweet little tart.

An empty bottle of Jack is almost just as beautiful as a new and unopened bottle…in the same sense as looking down at muddied feet, and looking back the way you came. The journey you’ve taken to get to this point, the experiences and sights and music listened to, the shit scrolled down on paper....

I’m broken.

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...

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

Happy now? That fiery enough for you?

Mine.

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....

As she shuffled back, he glanced down at the tent between his legs. Christ, that goddamn thing in there was huge; he looked like he had another arm in his pants.

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.

There’s more to the erotic life than explicitness.

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...

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.

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.

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...

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.

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

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.

We are one.