Stephan was secretive and a liar, but he was a very gentle and expert lover. She was the petted, cherished child, the desired mistress, the worshipped, perfumed goddess. She was all these things to Stephan - or so he made her believe.
His muscles flexed as he stood, and Rosa couldn’t prevent herself from watching with veiled admiration. He was certainly a very beautiful man. She looked away in embarrassment, worried she might say or do something inappropriate.
as i sit here in a chaoticsilence of the roamingocean in mymind, the only think that puts me at ease is the memoryof you staring back atme. you coiled my fears by letting meinside of the gully of your eyes.
Never had we ever kissed as lovers; if we touched lips it was as brother and sister. In one moment of emotion, our lips fell together by accident, but we quickly removed ourselves as though we were children touching glass with dirty hands.
I am fun, friendly, and I know how to use the third comma in a list of three distinct items or things. In my book that makes me a better lover, because I wrote it. The book, I wrote the book, so of course I’d make myself a better lover.
Just take my hand, lead, dance with me...and I will simply follow the blueness of the water, the white waves rolling free...where the earth beneath my feet and stars make my heart whole again...in long and priceless moments of shared solitude...
I always wear roller skates when I ride my bicycle. The more wheels the better, and that's what makes me a better lover. You know you want to go for a spin. I'll bring the record player, if you bring 1982 and her little sister, Elton John.
If you’re looking for someone to stand in the unemployment line, I’m the man for the job. And if you’re looking for a man who will make love to you all night long, then I’m the man for the job. I will help you find that man.
There is a correlation between one’s estimation of the odds of finding a new lover who is, at the least, of the same standard as they one they’re currently in a dead relationship with, and, their attempting to revive a dead relationship.
I have sewn my own destruction, and it looks like a cat sweater. I knitted matching pants too, because that’s what lovers do. My feelings for you melted in the ice cream cone, and I’m afraid I licked it all up before grandpa could get to it.
You know what’s a chain reaction? The direct relationship between how fast I pedal, and how fast my bicycle travels. I’m the kind of lover who notices the small details, like the fact that my bike has no brakes and I’m rapidly approaching a cliff.
We sensible often resist intrusive love and its chaos practically, employing measures to prevent the former for fear of the latter. But for all our wit and work, that desperation for control also prevents the pure, transcendental freedom more often delivered by both.
Partner struck me as an ugly euphemism. Euphemism in the sense that people don’t like to talk about sex, so they displace it on to some kind of business model. Since I have a distaste for business, I see no appeal to something that sounds like a financial leadership team.
For what it's worth, I think perfect love stories have perfect disasters hidden somewhere. If a genuine relationship comes out of two people screwing before they saw the potential of the 'relationship'? Its perfect, beautiful, a work of art in fact.. Normal is overrated.
I could be the best lover you’ll ever have. Maybe not the best in bed, but I could be the best conversationalist. It’s called “pillow talk” for a reason, because most men fall asleep right after sex, leaving the pillow as the only thing a woman has to talk to.
