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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #erotic
Kay suffered from a congenital lack of energy, and after taking books out of W.H. Smith's lending libraries in Swindon and Marlborough she would succumb to a mysterious, destructive lassitude which prevented her from returning them until long after the dates written on the little tickets dangling reproachfully from their spines. Conscious of having incurred a debt which mounted terrifyingly with every day that went by, and unable to compute with even approximate accuracy the sum of the fines to which she might eventually be liable, she would postpone their settlement yet further. When at last Kay feared that some river of no return had been fatally crossed, she judged it too much to much of a risk to be seen passing W.H. Smith's shop windows in either town, and to escape notice, recognition and exposure she would condemn herself to inconvenient detours, dodging down side alleys or hiding behind traffic in the main streets except on safe Sundays and early-closing afternoons. Most of the borrowed books did in the end find their way back to the libraries(sometimes conveyed there by me) but one of her favourites - Without My Cloak by Kate O'Brien - still remained in her possession. Kay's sense of guilt at having in effect stolen Without My Cloak had become so overwhelming that she now refused to visit Marlborough or Swindon at all unless she was covered up in some sort of wrap as a token disguise - in fact(I made myself laugh at the thought as I waited for the hours to pass in my lonely dark hilltop watch) in those places she was never without her cloak! ↗
Listen to me and listen to me good,” she ground out. “You are an asshole. You don’t tell me what to do, ever. The day you control my life, well, that day is when hell freezes over. I’m not some weak little wife type, asshole, and I don’t need a man to control me or tell me what to do. If you ever try to pull this shit again I’ll show you weak when they have to surgically remove my shoe from your ass. When you walk in the door of my house after you find a way back there, you have five minutes to pack up your things and get the hell out or you’ll need that surgery. I want you to get on a plane, take your miserable, bitchy little bald ass out of my life, and don’t ever come near me again. Do you hear me? ↗
Merrill Hartweiss scales a rocky incline toward Renna. The noon sun bakes the hillside as Merrill's boots dig into the broiling sands. Yet another gypsy tune enters his head. It starts off slowly. A lone guitar, its strings strummed with the lustful passion of a young man brushing his fingertips softly against the breasts of his lover. Another guitar joins, like a second hand, exploring her hot flesh, stroking the side of her bare abdomen, and gradually moving upward toward her chest. Then, a female voice joins the guitars; it is slightly raspy, yet sultry; filled with a fiery allure. The guitars pick up in intensity and tempo. There is a rhythmic clapping now, in synchronization with the strumming. The man has entered his lover. Sweat begins to form on Merrill's forehead, then quickly turns to vapor, dissipating into the blistering heat from the sunlight reflecting off the sands. Steady clapping, louder still. The tempo quickens, progressively and with a vigorous intensity. The man arches his back, cresting then falling; cresting, arching, rising and falling deeper again and again into his lover. The clapping, now faster, still rhythmic, but so much more intense. The guitars keep pace with increasing ferocity. In the woman's voice, short, quick breaths form words as she cries out her lover's name from deep within the throes of a forbidden love ↗
In the window were displayed the covers of several pornographic videos. “The Story of O-Positive,” Armod said aloud. “I don’t understand. Is that like HIV positive?” “Idiot,” Mordr said, slapping Armod lightly upside the head. “Ah, but I am in the mood for good literature,” Ivak said with a grin. “How about these? A Tale of Two Vampyres. The Stakes of Wrath. Or that one.” He pointed to the left. “Great Neckspectations.” “I still don’t understand.” Armod was frowning, although his white skin did color when he craned his head from side to side and realized what one of the pictures depicted. “Now me, I always did like a good classic mystery movie,” Sigurd added, also grinning. “A Tomb with a View.” Vikar worried that they were embarrassing Alex, but then she said, “My favorite is Vlad Really Did Impale Her.” His brothers glanced at him, then Alex, and burst out laughing. “Mayhap I will not kill her after all,” Mordr declared, giving Alex a wink that did not sit well with Vikar. Not one bit. “Can we buy some?” Armod asked. ↗
