فشعر عندها فجأة برغبة غامضة لا تقاوم في سماع موسيقى هائلة، في سماع ضجيج مطلق وصخب جميل وفرح يكتنف كل شيء ويُغرق ويخنق كل شيء، فيختفي إلى الأبد الألم والغرور وتفاهة الكلمات.

in a most important relationship like husband -wife,sex is main demand to regulate our society in a proper way.there are basic truth medically we all have different energy to feel and practice this emotion.then why sexual violence is in top? because the expectation of a male turned into more commodity basis than emotional requirement . home and market sex exists both places. people who are after the glamour of sex in sex market they prefer to get the same at home from woman who is ordinary woman , far away of those knowledge .violence starts here.people need to understand domestic sexual violence is crime . it is punishable. and women need to approach to responsible people who can help them to fight against their partners abnormal physical sexual demand .if they don't protest ,or do not understand then physically they will suffer more . there is a difference between love and commercial acting of love. there is difference between home and sex market. women and men both need to understand these truth.

Sobriety had happened at a strange time in my sex life, and maybe I wouldn’t have held onto it had it not been for both of the men involved in the transition. But sobriety made me realize, in lonely moments and long introspective jags, that while sex wasn’t the only thing that I was good at, it was still something I enjoyed. The difference was choosing the people I invited to the playground, so to speak. If Eren had been any less fired up than he was, pushing firmly and slowly into me, watching my face for silent cues while I pushed my head back into the bed, stretching my neck and growling, reacquainting myself with the feeling of being filled, it wouldn’t have been right.But it was right. I’d chosen well. I almost laughed when he was completely inside of me and I got swept up in the truth of the matter, the reasonably overwhelming knowledge that yeah, this was something I might not fuck up. And god, I loved sex. God, I loved not having to feel like I was hiding inside of its fortress.

And that is why I consider promiscuity immoral. Not because sex is evil, but because sex is too good and too important... What sex should involve is a very serious relationship. Whether that relationship should or should not become a marriage is a question which depends on the circumstances and the context of the two persons' lives. I consider marriage a very important institution, but it is important when and if two people have found the person with whom they wish to spend the rest of their lives -- a question of which no man or woman can be automatically certain. When one is certain that one's choice is final, then marriage is, of course, a desirable state. But this does not mean that any relationship based on less than total certainty is improper. I think the question of an affair or a marriage depends on the knowledge and the position of the two persons involved and should be left up to them. Either is moral, provided only that both parties take the relationship seriously and that it is based on values.

إذا كان الهياج الجنسي آلية يتسلى بها الخالق، فإن الحب، خلافاً لذلك لا ينتمي إلا إلينا ويمكننا من خلاله الإفلات من قبضة الخالق. فالحب هو حريتنا. الحب هو ما وراء كل «ما ليس منه بد».

قالت: «توماس، لم أعد أقدر. أعرف أن لا حقّ لي في التشكي. مذ رجعت إلى براغ وأنا أحظّر على نفسي الغيرة. لا أريد أن أكون غيورة. ولكني لا أستطيع أن أمنع نفسي عن ذلك. لا قدرة لي. ساعدني، أرجوك».

If reconciling your feminist values with your sexual preferences is something you’re struggling with, don’t panic. But try to believe what I’m about to tell you, because it’s true: It’s healthy to want and seek pleasure. It’s generous and kind to want to make your sexual partner(s) feel good. You should do stuff with someone because you want to, not because they expect or feel entitled to it, and the same should be true for them. Whatever you do during sexytimes is between you and your partner—not you, your partner, and feminism, and not you, your partner, and the Gender Roles Police Force. Everything doesn’t always have to be equal—unless you want it to be. The only things that matter are that everyone’s having fun, and everyone’s feeling respected by and respectful of their partners the whole time you’re doing whatever it is that you get up to. Because in the end, that’s all that sex is: Two people who want to have sex, alone in a room. No judgy voices allowed.

The depressing majority of comics seem to be about violence of one sort or another, [...] And I just don’t enjoy violence. I can see that narratively it is often a powerful spike in a story, but I certainly don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t want it in my real life, I don’t find violence entertaining in and of itself, or exciting, or funny.But sex is happily part of most people’s lives, and crosses the mind most days, I would say, even if it’s just watching your partner get out of bed in the morning. [...] Most pornography is pretty awful. I mean, it does the job at the most utilitarian level, but it rarely excites other areas of the mind, or the eye. It’s repetitive, bland and often a bit silly. I was interested in trying to do something that has an aesthetic beauty to it if possible, and something that tickles the intellect as well as the more basic areas of the mind. Maybe that’s not possible, and as soon as you start to think too much, it stops working as pornography. I don’t think so, but I guess it’s in the eye and mind of the viewer.

عندما هدأ صراخها، نامت قرب توماس وأمسكت بيده طوال الليل.منذ كانت في الثامنة وهي تغفو جامعة يديها ومتخيلة أنها تمسك الرجل الذي تحبه، رجل حياتها. كان مفهوماً إذاً أن تشد بهذا العزم على يد توماس.

That's precisely what's so extraordinary about you, you enjoy giving pleasure. Offering your body as an object of pleasure, giving pleasure unselfishly: that's what Westerners don't know how to do any more. They've completely lost the sense of giving. Try as they might, they no longer feel sex as something natural. Not only are they ashamed of their own bodies, which aren't up to porn standards, but for the same reasons they no longer feel truly attracted to the body of the other. It's impossible to make love without a certain abandon, without accepting, at least temporarily, the state of being in a state of dependency, of weakness. Sentimental adulation and sexual obsession have the same roots, both proceed from some degree of selflessness; it's not a domain in which you can find fulfilment without losing yourself. We have become cold, rational, acutely conscious of our individual existence and our rights; more than anything, we want to avoid alienation and dependence; on top of that we're obsessed with health and hygiene: these are hardly ideal conditions in which to make love.

Oferecer o corpo como objeto agradavável, dar gratuitamente prazer: é isso o que os ocidentais não sabem mais fazer. Perderam totalmente o senso da doação. Podem até se esforçar, mas não conseguem mais sentir o sexo como algo natural. Não apenas têm vergonha dos próprios corpos, que não estão à altura dos que vemos nos filmes pornôs, mas também, pelo mesmo motivo, não sentem nenhuma atração pelo corpo do outro. É impossivel fazer amor sem um certo abandono, sem a aceitação ao mesmo tempo temporária de um certo estado de dependência e fraqueza. A exaltação sentimental e a obsessão sexual têm a mesma origem, as duas nascem de um certo esquecimento de si mesmo; neste terreno, a gente não pode se realizar sem se perder. As pessoas se tornam frias, racionais, extremamente conscientes da sua existência individual e dos seus direitos (...) realmente não são as condições ideais para fazer amor".

تذكر عندها أسطورة أفلاطون الشهيرة «المأدبة»: ففي السابق كان البشر مزدوجي الجنس فقسّمهم الله إلى أنصاف تهيم عبر العالم مفتشة بعضها عن بعض. الحب هو تلك الرغبة في إيجاد النصف الآخر المفقود من أنفسنا.

God, you're so sweet.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I slowly unzip his hoodie and touch a hand to his bare chest. I relish in the feel of it. Barely an hour ago I was admiring it from afar, and now it's no longer just a tease. When I slide my hand down to his stomach, he groans and his hands slip just under my shirt. “So that's why you didn't want to change.” I can feel his smile against my lips. “You just wanted me to take your clothes off for you.”“Guilty.” I lift my arms for him to pull it off. Instead of returning to kissing me, his eyes roam down my body. I fight the urge to cover myself; even though my bra is still on, I feel exposed. His hands lightly touch each side along the seam. My breath catches in my throat.Meeting my eyes, he says, “You're so damn beautiful.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss in between my breasts. I shiver at the light touch of his lips to my sensitive skin. If this is how he makes me feel with such little contact, then how will the rest of this feel? The need is building inside like a spark starting a fire.

Let me sing the beauty of my Maggie. Legs:--the knees attached to the thighs, knees shiny, thighs like milk. Arms:--the levers of my content, the serpents of my joy. Back:--the sight of that in a strange street of dreams in the middle of Heaven would make me fall sitting from glad recognition. Ribs?--she had some melted and round like a well formed apple, from her thigh bones to waist I saw the earth roll. In her neck I hid myself like a lost snow goose of Australia, seeking the perfume of her breast. . . . She didn't let me, she was a good girl. The poor big alley cat, though almost a year younger, had black ideas about her legs that he hid from himself, also in his prayers didn't mention . . . the dog. Across the big world darkness I've come, in boat, in bus, in airplane, in train standing my shadow immense traversing the fields and the redness of engine boilers behind me making me omnipotent upon the earth of the night, like God--but I have never made love with a little finger that has won me since. I gnawed her face with my eyes; she loved that; and that was bastardly I didn't know she loved me--I didn't understand.

Typically, one of the arguments against the ethicalness of chemical castration is that it affects the very core of personhood, part of which is sexual drive and sexual fantasizing, by indirectly acting on the CNS (…) But, I think, an equally good argument could be that it interferes with basic homeostatic processes of the organism, regulated by the autonomic PNS and the endocrine system. Maybe the public tends to agree with chemical castration of sexual offenders, especially of pedophiles, not only because of the terrible acts they have committed, but also because there is a hidden prejudice that the “real or genuine person” of such offenders is a mind that has been captured by hormones, and that there is nothing wrong in “killing off these hormones and liberate the person from their vicious influence” (…) I say it is a prejudice because part of what it means to be a mentally healthy and well adapted individual involves a huge influence of the hormonal component, not only testosterone, but all other hormones, and, as a matter of fact, sexual offenders do not have abnormally high levels of free testosterone.