It was very fast, that first time. They were on the couch, and then they were off the couch and it was all over. It was like jumping out the window and landing on the street. A quick ride, just like that.

I mean, Charlie and I have never had issues pleasuring each other before, but damn, Charlie getting pregnant equals crazy sex. Wild sex. Sex that makes me feel like I'm being used. Best. Feeling.Ever.

What was he like afterwards?Totally adorable-he fell asleep right on top of me!What was he like afterwards?I thought he'd died. No, Really! He fell asleep-I had to roll him off of me so i could breathe

On the nights they went to bed at the same time, Rocco would lie there and watch her go to the closet, watch her choose either silky slips or mannish shirts, like running up sex flags from across the room.

This beautiful body, sweetness?  It’s made for pleasure.  It’s singing to me, telling me what it wants and needs.  Those other idiots you were with weren’t fuckin listening.

Meatloaf is graphable in how far ahead it is in likeability categories. You can also play Mop the Floor with it. I make love like I make dinner that makes cleaning the kitchen more fun for the whole family.

I want to tell you what's really happened.""Not now. Please not now. Whatever's happened, come and make love to me."And we did make love; not sex, but love; though sex would have been so much wiser.

The difference between noon and midnight is the same as the separation between sex and masturbation. Sexually, you can find me at 6:00 sharp. Bring a condom and a glove—and don’t be late.


So you’re dating Mr. Freaky Vanderperv, at least you’re not dating a guy with no skills and no interest in you sexually! Treat his kinks with respect and he will be an honest man with you always.

I had a dream about you. You were completely naked, except for full body armor, and I was lying on a bed trying to roll a magnum condom on a medieval sword. I wanted a baby, but you killed that idea. 


Despite being named Scott, I really like not being named Scott. I make love like I have no idea what my name is or where I’m at or why there’s always one guy in the audience who’s heckling.

If you had a daily printout from the brain of an average twenty-four-year-old male, it would probably go like this: sex, need coffee, sex, traffic, sex, sex, what an asshole, sex, ham sandwich, sex, sex, etc

Some screw for science only in the afternoon, while others keep their faith with evening—here Orcutt chuckled—it's a matter of light, I understand, but which makes which I can't remember.

I make love like I make sausages. And I don’t make sausages. At least not myself. I pay someone to make it for me. And sometimes I even pay for the sex that I’m paying someone else to make for me.

Stop stalling and spill the beans. What’s up?” Alexi tossed down her fork and leaned in close so no one else could possibly hear. “What’s not up? We’re like rabbits on Viagra.