Buttocks Quotes

It's true that you need much time to get rid of the fat girl you once were, but you know I am sincerely grateful for my buttocks. ~ Kate Winslet

What if I can't find it? What if I can't find that particular pumping-station? The breath tore in and out of his lungs, hot and bloody-tasting in the back of his throat. A stitch was sinking into his side. His buttocks sang where the rock had hit him. Beverly had said Henry and his friends meant to kill them, and Ben believed it now, yes he did. He came to ~ Stephen King

And it was told that as soon as Poseidon saw the young Goddess, who looked no more than eighteen years of age, by human reckoning, passion immediately overwhelmed him. Unlike all the other Goddesses & Nymphs of the Sea, Aphrodite was not naked. She wore a huge girdle around her slender waist which covered her breasts & her hips as well as her crotch & buttocks. And, thus, instead of impaling her with his trident, Poseidon was overcome with curiosity as to what she hid beneath her girdle. He thus introduced himself as the King & Sheriff of the Seas & told the young Goddess that, as such, no secrets should be kept from him by all those who wished to live in the sea. He would therefore request that she removed the girdle to show him what she hid beneath it. ~ Nicholas Chong

It was at times like this that one of those waves of bestiality ran through the mine, the sudden lust of the male that came over a miner when he met one of these girls on all fours, with her rear in the air and her buttocks busting out of her breeches. ~ Emile Zola

I'll teach you not to look at me like that," Charles snarled through his hair before pushing it off his face. "Do you think I didn't notice? The way you look at me when you think I'm not watching?"
Oh, God!
He had to get out of there. Slip out of his grip as soon as possible, before he lost control of his body. He was already feeling it in his groin - the fire Rochester had lit was already making his balls throb.
His reply was desperate, a whisper, a tiny, brazen lie: "You're mistaken."
"Oh, that's how it is, then? You have the nerve to tell me it's not true?" The next moment he felt something firm pressing against his buttocks. Something hot and shameless. Charles's rock-hard erection.
Dorian's lips parted in a surprised moan. The air escaped his lungs and treacherous arousal rose all the way to his throat, breaking his voice and his willpower.
"No…" I don't know. "I didn't mean to. I wasn't spying on you on purpose."
"But you did. You always do. ~ Valentina C. Brin

The number of human deaths due to hardening of the arteries and other similar diseases suggests that human beings were not meant to eat animals; our bodies are unable to digest the animal fat effectively and it ends up stored in our blood vessels, not to mention our waist lines, buttocks and thighs! ~ Sharon Gannon

The most popular image of the female despite the exigencies of the clothing trade is all boobs and buttocks, a hallucinating sequence of parabolae and bulges. ~ Germaine Greer

Speaking of novels,' I said, 'you remember we decided once, you, your husband and I, that Proust's rough masterpiece was a huge, ghoulish fairy tale, an asparagus dream, totally unconnected with any possible people in any historical France, a sexual travestissement and a colossal farce, the vocabulary of genius and its poetry, but no more, impossibly rude hostesses, please let me speak, and even ruder guests, mechanical Dostoevskian rows and Tolstoian nuances of snobbishness repeated and expanded to an unsufferable length, adorable seascapes, melting avenues, no, do not interrupt me, light and shade effects rivaling those of the greatest English poets, a flora of metaphors, described - by Cocteau, I think - as "a mirage of suspended gardens," and, I have not yet finished, an absurd, rubber-and-wire romance between a blond young blackguard (the fictitious Marcel), and an improbable jeune fille who has a pasted-on bosom, Vronski's (and Lyovin's) thick neck, and a cupid's buttocks for cheeks; but - and now let me finish sweetly - we were wrong, Sybil, we were wrong in denying our little beau ténébreux the capacity of evoking "human interest": it is there, it is there - maybe a rather eighteenth-centuryish, or even seventeenth-centuryish, brand, but it is there. Please, dip or redip, spider, into this book [offering it], you will find a pretty marker in it bought in France, I want John to keep it. Au revoir, Sybil, I must go now. I think my telephone is ringing. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

When it comes to wine and buttocks, the redder, the better. ~ Danny Tyran

Some strong-willed children absolutely demand to be spanked, and their wishes should be granted ... [T]wo or three stinging strokes on the legs or buttocks with a switch are usually sufficient to emphasize the point, 'You must obey me.' ~ James Dobson

A painter who has the feel of breasts and buttocks is saved. ~ Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Svengal lay groaning on the turf. His thighs were sheer agony. His buttocks ached. His calf muscles were on fire. Now, afterhe had tumbled off the small pony he was riding and thudded heavily to the turf on the point of his shoulder, the shoulder would hurt too. He concentrated on trying to find one part of his body that wasn't a giant source of pain and failed miserably. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the face of the elderly pony that he had been riding peered down at him.
Now what made you do a strange thing like that? The creature seemed to be asking. ~ John Flanagan

(Rico) "Can't wait."
"Neither can I." She prepared herself for another go-on-forever kiss. It didn't come. Between gentle darting kisses, Rico nibbled her lips while his hands explored her body. Olivia moaned. She couldn't help it.
The sound seemed to trigger something in Rico. Now the kissing was hard, wild and insatiable. Strong arms circled her, big hands covered her buttocks and yanked her against him. Without stopping the kisses or separating their bodies, Rico maneuvered them to the passenger side of her Jeep. ~ Rita Henuber

I feel very very old. My hair hurts. I have buttocks all over my body and I can't even smoke properly any more. I don't have lungs, I just have two poppadoms in here. ~ Dylan Moran

Two days prior to the Herrick operation I repaired a double cleft lip, resected a recurrent cancer of the mouth, corrected lop ears in a child, and closed a burn of the buttocks. ~ Joe Murray

Happy birthday. Your thirteenth is important. Maybe your first really public day. Your thirteenth is the chance for people to recognize that important things are happening to you.
Things have been happening to you for the past half year. You have seven hairs in your left armpit now. Twelve in your right. Hard dangerous spirals of brittle black hair. Crunchy, animal hair. There are now more of the hard curled hairs around your privates than you can count without losing track. Other things. Your voice is rich and scratchy and moves between octaves without any warning. Your face has begun to get shiny when you don't wash it. And two weeks of a deep and frightening ache this past spring left you with something dropped down from inside: your sack is now full and vulnerable, a commodity to be protected. Hefted and strapped in tight supporters that stripe your buttocks red. You have grown into a new fragility.

And dreams. For months there have been dreams like nothing before: moist and busy and distant, full of unyielding curves, frantic pistons, warmth and a great falling; and you have awakened through fluttering lids to a rush and a gush and a toe-curling scalp-snapping jolt of feeling from an inside deeper than you knew you had, spasms of a deep sweet hurt, the streetlights through your window blinds crackling into sharp stars against the black bedroom ceiling, and on you a dense white jam that lisps between legs, trickles and sticks, cools on you, hardens and cle ~ David Foster Wallace

A woman's beauty lies, not in any exaggeration of the specialized zones, nor in any general harmony that could be worked out by means of the sectio aurea or a similar aesthetic superstition; but in the arabesque of the spine. The curve by which the back modulates into the buttocks. It is here that grace sits and rides a woman's body. ~ John Updike

There are people who think that we cannot rule ourselves because the few times we tried, we failed, as if all the others who rule themselves today got it right the first time. It is like telling a crawling baby who tries to walk, and then falls back on his buttocks, to stay there. As if the adults walking past him did not crawl, once ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

She barely moved and was, of course, concerned only with her own beautification and cleanliness. She dozed or was, at any rate, lying down, eyes closed, on her front, on her back, on one side, on the other, covered in sunscreen, her gleaming arms and legs always fully extended so that no part of her would remain untanned, no fold in her skin, even her armpits, even her groin (nor, it goes without saying, her buttocks), ~ Javier Marias

They are beautiful, heart-rendingly beautiful, those wilds, with a quality of wide-eyed, unsung, innocent surrender that my lacquered, toy-bright Swiss villages and exhaustively lauded Alps no longer possess. Innumerable lovers have clipped and kissed on the trim turf of old-world mountainsides, on the innerspring moss, by a handy, hygienic rill, on rustic benches under the initialed oaks, and in so many cabanes in so so many beech forests. But in the Wilds of America the open-air lover will not find it easy to indulge in the most ancient of all crimes and pastimes. Poisonous plants burn his sweetheart's buttocks, nameless insects sting his; sharp items of the forest floor prick his knees, insects hers; and all around there abides a sustained rustle of potential snakes
que dis-je,of semi-extinct dragons!
while the crablike seeds of ferocious flowers cling, in a hideous green crust, to gartered black sock and sloppy white sock alike. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

I paint a woman's big rounded buttocks so that I want to reach out and stroke the dimpled flesh. ~ Peter Paul Rubens

The man was enormously fat. When he sat down, the metal chair disappeared beneath the spread of his buttocks and Alex was surprised it could even take his weight. ~ A. Horowitz

The din of corporate avarice is a blister boil on the buttocks of humanity. ~ C.B. Smith

An audience proves its discipline by its capacity for stillness. Those who have never practiced continuous application to an exacting process cannot settle down to simple watching; they must chew gum, they must dig the peel off their oranges, they must shift from foot to foot, from buttock to buttock. ~ Rebecca West

Her protector and savior was shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in a pair of drawers. He stood beside the bed with his back to her, turning down the covers. She studied the rippling muscles of his shoulders and arms as he performed the mundane task. His back was a beautiful, pale canvas on which she could imagine painting letters and designs. She admired the bands of muscle and the shadows beneath his shoulder blades. His drawers sagged low, revealing narrow hips and the intriguing curve of his rear. Her sex tightened at the glimpse of his buttocks.
His face was in profile and his nose no longer seemed too big or his features too coarse as she'd once thought, so long ago it seemed. Instead, they appeared assertively masculine except for the thick sweep of eyelashes and the generous fullness of his lips.
Alan noticed her and turned. The blanket fell from his fingers as he gazed at her with the eyes of a hungry dragon. His lips parted and the exhalation of his breath floated to her across the quiet room. Then he walked toward her. ~ Bonnie Dee

I have, of all the inglorious things, a malignant hemorrhoid. What color bracelet does one wear for that? And where does one wear it? And what slogan is apropos? Perhaps that slogan can be sewn in needlepoint around the ruffle on a cover for my embarrassing little doughnut buttocks pillow. ~ P. J. O'Rourke

He took her lips with a wicked kiss, a growl rolling deep as he moved carefully, slowly pulling out until he was nearly gone from her, then rocking back into her gently, over and over, his thumb working against her, ensuring her pleasure even as he wondered if he would be able to hold his at bay.
"Michael," she whispered, and he met her gaze, worried that he might be hurting her. He stilled.
She arched her back. "Don't stop. Don't stop moving. You were right..." Her eyes drifted closed, and she gave a moan of pleasure as he sank into her with one long stroke. He thought he might lose control at the sound of that moan, low and beautiful, at the back of her throat, but he did not stop.
She shook her head, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back, finally coming to rest on his buttocks, clasping in time to his movements, to the stroke of his thumb. "Michael!"
It was happening to him, too.
He'd never given much thought to timing his release to his partner's. He'd never cared to share the experience. But, suddenly, he could think of nothing but meeting Penelope there, on the edge of her pleasure, and letting it crash over both of them. "Wait for me," he whispered at her ear, thrusting against her. "Don't go without me."
"I can't wait. I can't stop it!" She convulsed around him, milking him in a rapid, stunning rhythm, his name on her lips sending him into oblivion, tumbling over the edge in a terrifying, extravagant climax that rivaled a ~ Sarah MacLean

For Rose of Sharon was pregnant and careful. Her hair, braided and wrapped around her head, made an ash-blond crown. Her round soft face, which had been voluptuous and inviting a few months ago, had already put on the barrier of pregnancy, the self-sufficient smile, the knowing perfection-look; and her plump body - full soft breasts and stomach, hard hips and buttocks that had swung so freely and provocatively as to invite slapping and stroking - her whole body had become demure and serious. Her whole thought and action were directed inward on the baby. She balanced on her toes now, for the baby's sake. And the world was pregnant to her; she thought only in terms of reproduction and of motherhood. ~ John Steinbeck

I should like to know which is worse: to be ravished a hundred times by pirates, and have a buttock cut off, and run the gauntlet of the Bulgarians, and be flogged and hanged in an auto-da-fe, and be dissected, and have to row in a galley
in short, to undergo all the miseries we have each of us suffered
or simply to sit here and do nothing?'
That is a hard question,' said Candide. ~ Voltaire

The man's mouth fell open in shock and hurt. He slowly shook his head. "So the stories are true. You really are a brat! You smug bastard. You need someone to throw you over a knee --!"
"How dare you!" Mycaela snarled. He lifted his hand to strike the man and couldn't believe it when the juggler caught his wrist, holding it aloft. They glared at each other, and Mycaela felt small, like a twig caught in the branches of a tree. But now he was forced to really look at the juggler, whose brown muscular chest was in his face, and he grew distracted. The man was wearing nothing except a pair of very colorful, very tight leggings. They clung to his bulge and his buttocks, and he was built like a stallion, lean and taunt and powerful. Mycaela bit his lip, willing himself not to awaken and silently cursing himself for smoking a drug that was sometimes used as an aphrodisiac. ~ Ash Gray

He stabbed into her, driving deeply, repeatedly, iron-hard and demanding. She welcomed the piercing pleasure of his urgency, opening her legs wider, pushing her skirts away and wrapping her legs about him. His thrusts pushed her roughly against the table, but she rose to meet each one, clinging to him at the hip, grinding her own need to match his. Her fingers clawed at his buttocks, gripping him to her, pushing herself against him, devouring him.

The Gentlemen's Club ~ Emmanuelle De Maupassant

Sam was almost grateful for his fleshy buttocks. Fat men take a cushion with them wherever they go, he thought. ~ George R R Martin

Because when the death-dealing powers of ice and cold reach your loins, your breasts and hips and buttocks as well as your heart - it was already deep in her heart, surely - then there will be no more woman. And you won't survive that. No matter what I or any man chooses to do. ~ Philip K. Dick

Peeled gingerroot inserted in her ass so she can't clench her buttocks, ~ E.L. James

Just when she thought she could feel nothing more, he began to increase his pace, strokes that pushed her over the edge.
The storm swallowed her screams of pleasure.
She heard his exultant laughter as she jerked her hands free, gripped his buttocks and pulled him to her, riding out her climax with his. ~ Karen Ranney

... I thought I'd never seen such a miracle as the way the muscles of her thighs and buttocks flexed and relaxed in the grip of her jeans. ~ T.C. Boyle

Is kissing me so bad, then, lass?"
"It's not the kissing that's bad ... " Her words were lost in a soft moan as she tipped her head back for more kisses.
"What's bad, my heart?" Hawk nipped her neck, gently.
"Oooh! ... you!"
"Me? I'm bad?" He wouldn't let her answer for a long moment while he nibbled at her lower lip, teased it, sucked it into his mouth, then slowly released it.
Adrienne drew a shaky breath. "Well ... I mean ... you are a man ... "
"Yes," he encouraged.
"And very beautiful at that ... ."
"Mmm ... yes?"
"And I hate beautiful men ... ." Her hands moved over his shoulders, his broad muscled back, and tapered down over his tight waist to his muscular buttocks. She was shocked at her own daring, thrilled by the groan of pleasure she coaxed from him.
"I can tell. Hate me just like that, lass. Hate me like that again. Hate me all you need to hate me. ~ Karen Marie Moning

The buildings of the great city of Placeholder sprawled either side of the dark crack of the river like boils on buttocks. There ~ Barnaby Yard

I must do whatever I can to find the best partners possible."
"Did you kick their butts?"
He frowned. "The buttocks are among the least sensitive places to hit someone."
I laughed. "It's a figure of speech."
"To kick butts. Interesting. ~ Allison Van Diepen

Her hands found his buttocks, squeezing the densely textured flesh like a cat kneading with its paws, and Jack gasped against her hair. Emboldened, she slid one hand to his sex and touched him, her fingers closing tightly around the pulsing shape. He moved to his side to give her more access to his body, letting her touch him in any manner she wished.
Gently she cupped the fuzz-covered pouch at the base of his sex, which felt cool and soft in comparison to the turgid shaft. Her fingertips traced over the ridges of veins that led all the way up to a broad tip. Experimentally she drew the pad of her thumb over the satiny bulb, and he clenched his hands in her hair and groaned.
"Does that please you?" she whispered.
It appeared that he found it difficult to speak. "Yes," he finally managed with a smothered laugh. "God, yes... if you please me any more, I will probably explode." He tilted her head back and brought their faces together, his features shimmering with a mist of sweat, his eyes ablaze with blue light. His large hand covered hers, helping to guide the head of his shaft to the thatch of soft, wiry curls between her legs. His palm moved to her thigh, hitching it over his hip so that she was spread open for him. "Rub it against yourself," he murmured.
Amanda's entire body turned crimson. Slowly she took the head of his shaft in her fingers and brought it to the damp furrow between her thighs. Her breath rushed in harsh surges as she rubbed the tip of h ~ Lisa Kleypas

My brave husband came back from fighting the Turks and brought me a robe of silk and a necklace of human teeth. He sat up at night by his hearth telling tales of battle. Apparently the Turks are ten times more ferocious and fearless than the Scots. 'Perhaps we should invite them here to drive the Scots back,' I suggested, and he laughed, but he didn't kiss me. That's when I learned the truth about scars. A man with a battle scar is a veteran, a hero, given an honoured place at the fire. Small boys gaze up fascinated, dreaming of winning such badges of courage. Maids caress his thighs with their buttocks as they bend over to mull his ale. Women cluck and cosset, and if in time other men grow a little weary of that tale of honour, then they call for his cup to be filled again and again until he is fuddled and dozes quietly in the warmth of the embers.

But a scarred woman is not encouraged to tell her story. Boys jeer and mothers cross themselves. Pregnant women will not come close for fear that if they look upon such a sight, the infant in their belly will be marked. You've heard of the tales of Beauty and the Beast no doubt. How a fair maid falls in love with a monster and sees the beauty of his soul beneath the hideous visage. But you've never heard the tale of the handsome man falling for the monstrous woman and finding joy in her love, because it doesn't happen, not even in fairytales. The truth is that the scarred woman's husband buys her a good thick veil and ~ Karen Maitland

Kate was reading through a long diary entry about the first time Katherine
and Matthew had met. Katherine had apparently fallen deeply in lust on the very spot. The entry used the words "delectable,""buttocks," and "I want to bite them. ~ Lauren James

She couldn't lookaway from the feral lust on his face - the cording of his neck muscles, the tight clamp of his jaw, the baring of his teeth. It fed the heat building in her thighs and buttocks and belly. It
stoked the fever raging out of control between her legs.
She'd never been so freaking turned on in her life. ~ Amy Andrews

Yes, this was love, this ridiculous bouncing of the buttocks, and the wilting of the poor, insignificant, moist little penis. ~ D.H. Lawrence

Ryoga to Ranma: 'Desperation Strike' my steely buttocks! I thought you were a fighter! ~ Rumiko Takahashi

I visit my assistant mistress. "Well, Azalea," I say, sitting in the best chair, "what has happened to you since my last visit?" Azalea tells me what happened to her. She has covered a sofa, and written a novel. Jack has behaved badly. Roger has lost his job (replaced by an electric eye). Gigi's children are in the hospital being detoxified, all three. Azalea herself is dying of love. I stroke her buttocks, which are perfection, if you can have perfection, under the capitalistic system. "It is better to marry that to burn," St. Paul says, but St. Paul is largely discredited now, for the toughness of his views does not accord with the experience of advanced industrial societies. ~ Donald Barthelme

...they're currently planning to ram something unpleasant up our buttocks, probably a dildo covered in chili. ~ Christopher G. Nuttall

Lay your head on my shoulder and massage my buttocks while you cry. ~ Jarod Kintz

I know the name of Turkey's leading avant-guard publication. I know that John Quincy Adams married for money. I know that Bud Abbott was a double-crosser, that absentee ballots are very popular in Ireland, and that dwarves have prominent buttocks. ~ A. J. Jacobs

As a battalion commander in France, it was said, he had once pulled a pistol on a hesitant junior officer and shot him in the buttocks. "There," Allen said. "You're out. You're wounded." Such gestures would be unnecessary here. ~ Rick Atkinson

An image of her shackled to my bench, peeled gingerroot inserted in her ass so she can't clench her buttocks, comes to mind, followed by judicious use of a belt or strap. ~ E.L. James

In ninety seconds they were naked and he was nibbling at her ear while his hand rubbed her pubic mat; but a saboteur was at work at his brain. 'I love you,' he thought, and it was not untrue because he loved all women now, knowing partially what sex was really all about, but he couldn't bring himself to say it because it was not totally true, either, since he loved Mavis more, much more. 'I'm awfully fond of you,' he almost said, but the absurdity of it stopped him. Her hand cupped his cock and found it limp; her eyes opened and looked into his enquiringly. He kissed her lips quickly and moved his hand lower, inserting a ringer until he found the clitoris. But even when her breathing got deeper, he did not respond as usual, and her hand began massaging his cock more desperately. He slid down, kissing nipples and bellybutton on the way, and began licking her clitoris. As soon as she came, he cupped her buttocks, lifted her pelvis, got his tongue into her vagina and forced another quick orgasm, immediately lowering her slightly again and beginning a very gentle and slow return in spiral fashion back to the clitoris. But still he was flaccid.

'Stop,' Stella breathed. 'Let me do you, baby.'

George moved upward on the bed and hugged her. 'I love you,' he said, and suddenly it did not sound like a lie.

Stella giggled and kissed his mouth briefly. 'It takes a lot to get those words out of you, doesn't it?' she said bemusedly.

'Honesty is t ~ Robert Anton Wilson

The Bardic robe..disguises imperfections of figure: round shoulders, bosoms of unmodish size or shape...too-insistent buttocks, knock knees and bandy legs, all are mitigated in the merciful folds of the robe...but whatever the type of robe --soutane, sari, academic gown or Bardic wrap -- its effect is often destroyed by disillusioning shoes. ~ Ithell Colquhoun

There are people, she once wrote, who think that we cannot rule ourselves because the few times we tried, we failed, as if all the others who rule themselves today got it right the first time. It is like telling a crawling baby who tries to walk, and then falls back on his buttocks, to stay there. As if the adults walking past him did not all crawl, once. ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I will not share you." Still holding his gaze, she drove her body down onto his. Tiny threads of lightning danced over his skin in a shocking web of blue-white light. He gave a choked cry. His spine arched. His buttocks clenched tight. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords of steel. His hips surged again, powerfully, rising up to meet her downward slide. She felt the shock of it to her bones.
"I will not share," she cried out fiercely, one final time as both of them shattered. ~ C.L. Wilson

Ah well ... wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Okay, let's go. ~ J.K. Rowling

Don't put your wand there, boy!" roared Moody. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!" "Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly. "Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" growled Mad-Eye. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore . . ." He stumped off toward the kitchen. "And I saw that," he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ~ J.K. Rowling

A blanket could be bunched up and used as a seat cushion. But I'd rather cut off your buttocks and use that instead. Isn't it better that I be the one to sit on your fat ass all day? After all, sitting on your ass is all you seem to do now that you're addicted to high fructose corn syrup and targeted advertisements. ~ Jarod Kintz

When West returned, he was completely naked. Phoebe began to turn over, but he straddled her hips and pressed her back lightly to keep her facedown. She lay quietly, aware of the textures of him, the muscles and coarse hair of his thighs, and the silky weight of an erection that felt as long and hard as a raffling pole. There was the sound of a glass stopper in a flask. His warm, strong hands descended to her back, rubbing and massaging, while the scent of almond oil drifted to her nostrils.
He squeezed the muscles of her shoulders and worked his way down on either side of her spine, releasing tension and sending ripples of pleasure through her. Phoebe moaned softly. No one had ever done this to her before; she would never have guessed it would feel so lovely. As his palms glided up to her shoulders, the length of his aroused flesh slid along the cleft of her bottom and partly up her back. Clearly he also took pleasure in the massage, making no effort to hide it. He kneaded her lower back and the full curves of her buttocks with increasing pressure until the clenched muscles relaxed.
One hand reached down between her thighs to cup the soft pleats of flesh, his fingertips riding tenderly on either side of her swollen, half-hidden nub. A few exquisitely light and indirect strokes, back and forth, caused her breath to catch. He touched the opening of her body, circling into the wetness before one of his fingers- no, two- entered in a gradual but insistent thrust.
~ Lisa Kleypas

Without anything being said, there were no women at our lunches. Not that we were talking pussy. Or not much. But it was a chaps thing. Seasoned observers all, we set the world, such as it was, to rights, offsetting our intellectual know-how with truly wondrous flights of fancy. It was at the time of the ruinous yet avoidable civil war in Angola, in which far too many people died, or, in our immortal parlance, became 'deadified.' It might have been anyone - actually, I [Christopher Hitchens] am sure it was our poet friend Craig Raine - who came up with the appalling yet unforgettable idea that there is a design flaw in the female form, and that the breasts and the buttocks really ought to be on the same side. For myself, I have oft been perplexed as to why our heads are where, in a truly just world, our penises really ought to be, and my arse is not located between my chin and my nose, allowing me mellifluously to talk out of it. ~ Craig Brown

That day in Chartres they had passed through town and watched women kneeling at the edge of the water, pounding clothes against a flat, wooden board. Yves had watched them for a long time. They had wandered up and down the old crooked streets, in the hot sun; Eric remembered a lizard darting across a wall; and everywhere the cathedral pursued them. It is impossible to be in that town and not be in the shadow of those great towers; impossible to find oneself on those plains and not be troubled by that cruel and elegant, dogmatic and pagan presence. The town was full of tourists, with their cameras, their three-quarter coats, bright flowered dresses and shirts, their children, college insignia, Panama hats, sharp, nasal cries, and automobiles crawling like monstrous gleaming bugs over the laming, cobblestoned streets. Tourist buses, from Holland, from Denmark, from Germany, stood in the square before the cathedral. Tow-haired boys and girls, earnest, carrying knapsacks, wearing khaki-colored shorts, with heavy buttocks and thighs, wandered dully through the town. American soldiers, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes, leaned over bridges, entered bistros in strident, uneasy, smiling packs, circled displays of colored post cards, and picked up meretricious mementos, of a sacred character. All of the beauty of the town, all the energy of the plains, and all the power and dignity of the people seemed to have been sucked out of them by the cathedral. It was as though the cath ~ James Baldwin

They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery / stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors / to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys / whose bodies / swelled purple and black into twice the original size / and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby / and then / they said this was brilliant ~ June Jordan

Season late, day late, sun just down, and the sky
Cold gunmetal but with a wash of live rose, and she,
From water the color of sky except where
Her motion has fractured it to shivering splinters of silver,
Rises. Stands on the raw grass. Against
The new-curdling night of spruces, nakedness
Glimmers and, at bosom and flank, drips
With fluent silver. The man,

Some ten strokes out, but now hanging
Motionless in the gunmetal water, feet
Cold with the coldness of depth, all
History dissolving from him, is
Nothing but an eye. Is an eye only. Sees

The body that is marked by his use, and Time's,
Rise, and in the abrupt and unsustaining element of air,
Sway, lean, grapple the pond-bank. Sees
How, with that posture of female awkwardness that is,
And is the stab of, suddenly perceived grace, breasts bulge down in
The pure curve of their weight and buttocks
Moon up and, in swelling unity,
Are silver and glimmer. Then

The body is erect, she is herself, whatever
Self she may be, and with an end of the towel grasped in each hand,
Slowly draws it back and forth across back and buttocks, but
With face lifted toward the high sky, where
The over-wash of rose color now fails. Fails, though no star
Yet throbs there. The towel, forgotten,
Does not move now. The gaze
Remains fixed on the sky. The body,

Profiled against the darkn ~ Robert Penn Warren

Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying. ~ Langston Hughes

Yet I had not bargained for this, the girl with tears hanging on her cheeks like stuck pearls, her cunt a split fig below the great globes of her buttocks on which the knotted tails of the cat were about to descend, while a man in a black mask fingered with his free hand his prick, that curved upwards like a scimitar he held. The picture had a caption 'Reproof of curiosity. ~ Angela Carter

I shudder to tell that many of our people, harassed by the madness of excessive hunger, cut pieces from the buttocks of the Saracens already dead there, which they cooked, but when it was not yet roasted enough by the fire, they devoured it with savage mouth ~ Edward M. Peters

As her body expanded so did her interior landscape. She imagined minarets, skyscrapers, entire cities being constructed inside her. Thighs thickened, belly became basketball-sized, buttocks deepened with dimples. Even her taste-buds shifted, and she held her tongue out for crushed ice, chalk, charcoal. ~ Diriye Osman

Don't you go up on the roof in that!" I exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. "That's your good woolen shirt!" He halted by the door, glared briefly at me, then, with the rebuking expression of an early Christian martyr, laid down his tools, stripped off the shirt, dropped it on the floor, picked up the tools, and strode majestically out to deal with the leak, buttocks clenched with determined zeal. I ~ Diana Gabaldon

Behind the sullen girl sat Denis Cooverman, sweating: along the cap of his mortarboard, trickling behind his ears and rippling down his forehead; around his nostrils and in that groove below his nose (which Denis would be quick to identify as the philtrum ... ); from his palms, behind his knees, inside his elbows, between his toes and from many locations not typically associated with perpiratory activity; squirting out his nipples, spewing from his navel, coursing between his buttocks and forming a tiny lake that gently lapped at his genitals; from under his arms, naturally, in two varietals
hot and sticky,a nd cold and terrified. ~ Larry Doyle

Few people paid much attention to the importance of eyes when it came to seduction, he thought. It took a Bene Gesserit upbringing to make that point. Big breasts in a woman and hard loins in a man (that tightly muscular look to the buttocks) – these were naturally important in sexual matchings. But without the eyes, the rest of it could go for nothing. Eyes were essential. You could drown in the right kind of eyes, he had learned, sink right into them and be unaware of what was being done to you [...]. ~ Frank Herbert

He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation. ~ James Joyce

The vast majority of buttocks are overused, whereas that of minds are underused. ~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana

IT IS WITH OUR FACES that we face the world, from the moment of birth to the moment of death. Our age and our sex are printed on our faces. Our emotions, the open and instinctive emotions which Darwin wrote about, as well as the hidden or repressed ones which Freud wrote about, are displayed on our faces, along with our thoughts and intentions. Though we may admire arms and legs, breasts and buttocks, it is the face, first and last, which is judged "beautiful" in an aesthetic sense, "fine" or "distinguished" in a moral or intellectual sense. And, crucially, it is by our faces that we can be recognized as individuals. Our faces bear the stamp of our experiences and character; at forty, it is said, a man has the face he deserves. At ~ Oliver Sacks

Unlike my father, who blindly churned out one canvas after another, I had real ideas about the artistic life. Seated at my desk, my beret as tight as an acorn's cap, I projected myself into the world represented in the art books I'd borrowed from the public library. Leafing past the paintings, I would admire the photographs of the artists seated in their garrets, dressed in tattered smocks and frowning in the direction of their beefy nude models. To spend your days in the company of naked men – that was the life for me. 'Turn a bit to the left, Jean-Claude. I long to capture the playful quality of your buttocks. ~ David Sedaris

In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.
Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.
Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven's stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.
God on the cross, save me.
Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God's teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel. ~ Amy Jarecki

Bullaro blushed. Barbara guided him around the room to meet other people, but all he saw in furtive glances were dangling breasts and hairy chests, bare buttocks and white thighs, pubic hair of various colors, penises that were large and small, circumcised and uncircumcised, and, remarkably, unerect. ~ Gay Talese

Please, my prince…my Merrick."
Merrick trailed his nails over the dimples of his buttocks before his lips found the shell of his ear. "Anything, Cas. I would give you anything."
Cassius's breath ghosted out of him as he arched his back, his head sinking to the crook of Merrick's neck. Cas twisted his mouth, and the way their lips brushed together made Merrick shiver. "I would like to feel your cock inside me."
Merrick gasped as he gripped Cassius's hair in his fingers, bent his head back, and crushed their lips together.
"Take me," Cassius groaned. "Make me yours. ~ Riley Hart

While desire focuses on the other, always in a somewhat fetishist manner, on a particular object, like breasts, buttocks and cock...love focuses on the very being of the other, on the other as it has erupted, fully armed with its being, into my life thus disrupted and re-fashioned ~ Alain Badiou

When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of his hand as it crosses your body, his fingertips finding secret places, his palm on bare buttocks, his cock nudging at your clitoris. ~ Chloe Thurlow

Read non-fiction. History, biology, entomology, mineralogy, paleontology. Get a bodyguard and do fieldwork. Find your inner fish. Don't publish too soon. Not before you have read Thomas Mann in any case. Learn by copying, sentence by sentence some of the masters. Copy Coetzee's or Sebald's sentences and see what happens to your story. Consider creative non-fiction if you want to stay in South Africa. It might be the way to go. Never neglect back and hamstring exercises, otherwise you won't be able to write your novel. One needs one's buttocks to think. ~ Marlene Van Niekerk

Honestly, among my acquaintances there is no woman wearing XS. ~ Kate Winslet

Giving a witch your body fluids is akin to slicing off a choice cut of your buttocks and offering it to a werewolf. ~ Kevin Hearne

You have such strength," she said softly, "but you have never hurt me. I find that remarkable."
"I am very careful not to hurt you," he said, his voice thick.
Rycca nodded. "I appreciate that."
She touched his lean hips and beyond, lightly caressing the hard muscles of his buttocks. He gritted his teeth and swore to himself that he could bear this. She was very close to him now, the thin cloth of her chemise brushing against him.He found that barrier intolerable. Plucking at the fabric, he muttered, "Take it off."
She looked a little surprised, then smiled. "The truth is,I feel safer with it on, a little bolder."
"Little?" He wanted to say more, something about her being any bolder and he would burst, but he couldn't get the words out. Probably because he wasn't breathing very well.
Rycca hesitated but only a moment. With the gracefulness so natural to her, she lifted the chemise over her head and discarded it. In the silvery moonlight, her skin glowed like polished alabaster, pale but for the rosy fullness of her nipples and the fiery curls between her thights. He reached for her urgently, but once again she eluded his grasp.
"Please..." she said again and took his thick wrists in her hands. Drawing them away from her body, she reaised her head and met his eyes. "You can't realize how much I want to..."
"Thor's thunder,lady,do whatever you will before I perish!"
Her eyes widened yet more and a startled laugh broke from her. Then h ~ Josie Litton

Those running tights the young women wear now, so they look like spacewomen, raspberry red and electric green so tight they show every muscle right into the crack between the buttocks, what is the point of them? Display. Young animals need to display. ~ John Updike

One popular new plastic surgery technique is called lip grafting, or 'fat recycling,' wherein fat cells are removed from one part of your body that is too large, such as your buttocks, and injected into your lips. People will then be literally kissing ass. ~ Dave Barry

When I was a young man, King Francois of France greatly admired my bare buttocks. I have that information only by hearsay, of course, because my buttocks were in the king's chateau of Chambord while I was here in Italy. ~ Alan Fisk

Her fire red hair curled just above the curve of her buttocks, drawing his eye to their sweet, toned shape. Mercy was a soldier, her muscles lean and strong. But she was also very much a woman - all smooth, soft skin and luscious, strokable curves. And her breasts. He swallowed a groan as he caught teasing glimpses of them as she jumped lightly on top of the rock - very much like the cat she was - and lay down on her front, giving a moan of pure, sensual bliss at the heat. "Stop checking me out and come give me a massage."Read ~ Nalini Singh

. The tattooed goddess: her breasts have their own driver's licenses, buttocks are cemented on a sidewalk in Hollywood, her legs shine for the glory of God, and her face is the canvas of Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" in heaven. Had Sigmund Freud met her, his book, "The Interpretation of Dreams" would have been rewritten. Rapunzel to this day is jealous of her hair and Sandy Koufax is jealous of her curves, that beautiful, beautiful bitch. ~ Zac Young

How much will you change?" Nella asked, uneasy.
"Oh, not too much. Enough so that your signature won't match the bots' programming. Outwardly, you'll never know the difference. Unless, of course, you'd like me to make some modifications." She ran an eye up and down Nella, like a dress designer trying to decide where to put more pleats or frills.
Rio's arms tightened around her. "Don't you dare change a thing. She's perfect the way she is."
Nella's face heated. "Not really."
"You don't believe me?" Rio said, his voice taking on a dangerous note.
"You're very flattering," she said.
His playfulness vanished. "Flattering? You mean I'm lying?"
"I didn't say that. I . . ."
He confused her. All her life Nella had been taught to be banally polite, to have the correct remark for the correct person at the correct time, always. Everything she said to Rio seemed to provoke a reaction opposite of what she'd been taught to expect. But then, Rio was nothing like any male - any human being - Nella had ever met before. He did nothing as expected. Maybe that was part of his attraction - his unpredictability.
Abruptly, Rio spun Nella around and lifted her over his shoulder. She squeaked in surprise as her world went upside down, too startled to do anything but gape at his tight, leather-clad buttocks. "You're still having a problem with trust," he said. "One I'm going to have to cure."
Planting his hand on her backside, Rio hauled N ~ Allyson James

To spend your days in the company of naked men - that was the life for me. ~ David Sedaris

Dark swarmed behind her eyelids and, in jerky seconds of sleep, she dreamed the dark came into her. Dark came insidious, up her nose and into her ears, damp fingers of dark proposed themselves to each of her body openings. She put her hand over her mouth and nose, put her other hand over her vagina, clenched her buttocks, turned one ear to the mattress and sacrificed the other ear to the intrusion of the dark. ~ Thomas Harris

There is something about the act of studying an unclothed body, as an artist does, that allows a person to appreciate it as pure form, regardless of the kinds of traits traditionally regarded as imperfections. In a figure drawing class, an obese woman's folds of flesh take on a kind of beauty. You can look at a man's shrunken chest or legs or buttocks with tenderness. Age is not ugly, just poignant. ~ Joyce Maynard

There is a hole in my buttocks. I'd like to return it, or at the very least exchange it for a new one. ~ Jarod Kintz

At the 150-minute point of sitting in a standard theater chair, the human buttocks die; once dead, they cannot be revived. They cease to function, whatever that function may have been, and must be carried around like a sack, or two, of flour. ~ Michael J. Nelson

I tattooed my name on my buttocks, so you'd know what an ass I am. Also so either me or my clone could claim me, if I ever got lost. ~ Jarod Kintz

My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.

You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope y ~ James Joyce

Dr. Hathaway is head of the burn unit.I think I'll have her take a quick look."
"Your ex-wife?"
"She is. Why?"he says slowly.
"I realize she's a doctor,but it has to be weird letting your ex-wife see your naked ass… butt… buttocks…gluteus." I smile,my go-to when things get really awkward - which happens way too often. ~ Jewel E. Ann

Do you have a message for Master Corbin before you go?" the little vamp asked. "No," I said shortly. "Wait - yes. Tell him if he thinks giving me his private number will inspire me to make a booty call, he's sadly mistaken." The androgynous vamp gave me a puzzled look. "A booty call? You will call his buttocks on the telephone? I do not understand." I stifled a snicker. "You don't have to. Basically it means I'm not interested in fucking a vampire. ~ Evangeline Anderson

Nnaka my son, our elders say, when a kid washes his hands clean, he becomes fit to dine with the elders. Our hearts are filled with indescribable joy and we can rub our belly with delight, so much so that we should give you the largest farmland and the most beautiful bride in the community but alas, we can only do so much. Nonetheless, the crack on the buttocks has not diminished its functions and we shall not disappoint you. ~ Sinachi Ukpabi

Those faces on Main Street shaded by wide straw hats are surrounded in my child-memory by hardware and ploughs, seed bags and bales of cotton, the smell of guano and mule lots, hot sun on sidewalks and lovely white ladies with sweet childlike voices and smooth childlike faces, and Old gardens of boxwood and camellias, and fields endlessly curving around my small world. I know now that the bitterness, the cruel sensual lips, the quick fears in hard eyes, the sashshaying buttocks of brown girls, the thin childish voices of white women, had a great deal to do with high interest at the bank and low wages in the mills and gullied fields and lynchings and Ku Klux Klan and segregation and sacred womanhood and revivals, and Prohibition. And that no part of this memory can be understood without recalling it all of it. ~ Lillian Smith