Sex
Quotes - A cell phone's like a guy
“Sex
either blows your fucking mind, or it’s not good enough.”
―
Karen Marie Moning, Burned
“The
playboy is not necessarily a man who has many girlfriends, or a man who has
many women, or a man who has slept with many women. That is old. But there is a
new breed of the playboy and he is the man who remains single in attempts to
make every woman feel as if he belongs to her, he remains a virgin in order to
make every woman feel like she will be the first one, and in the end he may
choose a very unattractive woman to adorn his side, so that in all
circumstances, he will shine as the more beautiful one. This is the new breed
of playboy. And it is a very evil one.”
― C.
JoyBell C.
“I
plan to use my hands, my mouth, and my cock to fuck that basic vanilla sex
right outta you.”
―
Lorelei James, Saddled and Spurred
“You
know, a cell phone's like a guy; if you don't plug him in every night, charge
him good, you got nothing at all.”
―
Catherine Coulter, TailSpin
“I
don't see why human people make such a heavy trip out of sex. It isn't anything
complex, it is simply the best thing in life, even better than food.”
―
Robert A. Heinlein, Friday
“But
there was so much todo: cigarettes to smoke, sex to have, swings to swing on.
I'll have more time for reading when I'm old and boring.”
―
John Green
“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.”
―
Emme Rollins, Dear Rockstar
“Can
I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am
disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings...but
there’s something dead about it, something deserted.”
―
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
“When
I met a truly beautiful girl, I would tell her that if she spent the night with
me, I would write a novel or a story about her. This usually worked; and if her
name was to be in the title of the story, it almost always worked. Then, later,
when we'd passed a night of delicious love-making together, after she’d gone
and I’d felt that feeling of happiness mixed with sorrow, I sometimes would
write a book or story about her. Sometimes her character, her way about
herself, her love-making, it sometimes marked me so heavily that I couldn't go
on in life and be happy unless I wrote a book or a story about that woman, the
happy and sad memory of that woman. That was the only way to keep her, and to
say goodbye to her without her ever leaving.”
―
Roman Payne
“So,
you’re asking me how long before a couple can break up after having sex?”
And
I was a tomato. “Yeah.”
“So
you’ve never broken up with someone after having sex?”
I
stared at him. And that smug sonofabitch had the nerve to chuckle. My face was
on fire and I wanted to slide to the floor. Under the tile. “That’s not . . .
it isn’t—”
“I
can fix that for you. Seems like the least I can do.”
― J.
Rose Black, Chasing Headlines
“What
is my definition of jazz? 'Safe sex of the highest order.”
―
Kurt Vonnegut
“To
His Coy Mistress
Had
we but world enough and time,
This
coyness, lady, were no crime.
We
would sit down, and think which way
To
walk, and pass our long love’s day.
Thou
by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst
rubies find; I by the tide
Of
Humber would complain. I would
Love
you ten years before the flood,
And
you should, if you please, refuse
Till
the conversion of the Jews.
My
vegetable love should grow
Vaster
than empires and more slow;
An
hundred years should go to praise
Thine
eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two
hundred to adore each breast,
But
thirty thousand to the rest;
An
age at least to every part,
And
the last age should show your heart.
For,
lady, you deserve this state,
Nor
would I love at lower rate.
But
at my back I always hear
Time’s
wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And
yonder all before us lie
Deserts
of vast eternity.
Thy
beauty shall no more be found;
Nor,
in thy marble vault, shall sound
My
echoing song; then worms shall try
That
long-preserved virginity,
And
your quaint honour turn to dust,
And
into ashes all my lust;
The
grave’s a fine and private place,
But
none, I think, do there embrace.
Now
therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits
on thy skin like morning dew,
And
while thy willing soul transpires
At
every pore with instant fires,
Now
let us sport us while we may,
And
now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather
at once our time devour
Than
languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let
us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness
up into one ball,
And
tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough
the iron gates of life:
Thus,
though we cannot make our sun
Stand
still, yet we will make him run.”
―
Andrew Marvell, The Complete Poems
“Been
there, done that, got the t-shirt.
Sold
my soul and yeah, the truth hurts.”
―
Marina Diamandis Marina and the Diamonds
“Living
in the Islamic Republic is like having sex with someone you loathe.”
―
Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books
“When
you've been around as long as me, Lucy, you'll know that there are three types
of sex... One - brand-new, kitchen-table sex. Two - bedroom sex. Then number
three - hallway sex, when you pass each other in the hallway and say 'Fuck
you.'" - Lockie”
―
Kathy Lette, To Love, Honour and Betray
