Erotic Massage Quotes

Life Is Too Short--So Kiss Slowly,
Laugh Insanely, Love Truly,
And Live With Passion. ~ Andy Vogt

Not only were my nerves shot, but my body was a traitor. I didn't want to melt against him. I didn't want to enjoy the feeling of his lips sliding across my skin. I didn't want to like the possessive way his fingers dug into my waist or the way his erection pressed against me. ~ E.M. Denning

As for your back rubs ... Study an anatomy book, pal, because what you've been rubbing isn't my back. ~ Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Eros seizes and shakes my very soul like the wind on the mountain
shaking ancient oaks. ~ Sappho

Questions about happiness generally assume that we know what a happy life looks like. Happiness is often described as the result of having a great many ducks lined up in a row - spouse, offspring, private property, erotic experiences - even though a millisecond of reflection will bring to mind countless people who have all those things and are still miserable. ~ Rebecca Solnit

A Dom intent on developing a relationship will approach you on a personal level first. ~ Red Phoenix

The reason is that even in a fantasy there is nothing even remotely erotic about a toilet bowl. In fact, considered as an accoutrement to a sexual encounter, a toilet bowl is a real cold shower. ~ Helen DeWitt

I miss breathing in your scent, the feel of your body next to mine. I miss you, Elizabeth, so much I hurt with it sometimes. So forgive me if I can't be happy about this venture of yours at Payne Industries. ~ Magda Alexander

The Romanovs inhabit a world of family rivalry, imperial ambition, lurid glamour, sexual excess and depraved sadism; this is a world where obscure strangers suddenly claim to be dead monarchs reborn, brides are poisoned, fathers torture their sons to death, sons kill fathers, wives murder husbands, a holy man, poisoned and shot, arises, apparently, from the dead, barbers and peasants ascend to supremacy, giants and freaks are collected, dwarfs are tossed, beheaded heads kissed, tongues torn out, flesh knouted off bodies, rectums impaled, children slaughtered; here are fashion-mad nymphomaniacal empresses, lesbian ménage à trois, and an emperor who wrote the most erotic correspondence ever written by a head of state. Yet this is also the empire built by flinty conquistadors and brilliant statesmen that conquered Siberia and Ukraine, took Berlin and Paris, and produced Pushkin, Tolstoy, Tchaikovsky and Dostoevsky; a civilization of towering culture and exquisite beauty. ~ Simon Sebag Montefiore

When we look away from the importance of the erotic in the development and sustenance of our power, or when we look away from ourselves as we satisfy our erotic needs in concert with others, we use each other as objects of satisfaction rather than share our joy in the satisfying, rather than make connection with our similarities and our differences. ~ Audre Lorde

Mmmm, I love the way you taste. The sweet way you melt in my mouth. ~ Annalise Delaney

Look, I'm good okay. I'm her ... " he stopped dead. The woman at the desk looked up expectantly, "uncle." His voice faded.
"Katie certainly has a lot of those, " the annoying person chirped before handing his ID back and pointing to a side door. SHe gave him a different sort of look. This one he recognized. He smiled at her. She was sort of good looking, actually. "You gay like her other uncles?" Jack laughed.
"Nope. ~ Liz Crowe

You don't get to say goodbye. Not now, maybe not ever. That's the beauty of this arrangement. I make all the decisions and you're left to wander around in the dark, waiting, anticipating and fearing my next move. Only when I'm done using you and I've gotten what I need will I let you go. ~ Ella Dominguez

My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it. ~ Emme Rollins

The pervasion of image has so deeply altered our very relationships to ourselves that even men have become objects
if never erotic objects. ~ Shulamith Firestone

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and bit her bottom lip. I found it to be such an erotic gesture that it aroused me. My eyes began making love to her in the dark. Unseen hands passed over her curves, quietly descending ... trembling at her great beauty. I didn't even know her, but I wanted her. My gaze danced over her every curve, from her nose and lips, to her breasts and hips, surreptitiously. She had no idea of my thoughts. Shadow sex. ~ Rae Hachton

What if I tell you all my secrets?" she whispered to herself. "And said that I was so close to being in love with you, so close to being entirely vulnerable and all I needed was your trust? What if I told you that it hurts to breathe when I think about boarding that plane to San Francisco? If I gave you those secrets, would you give me yours? ~ Eden Summers

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 ~ Angel Rosa

She ceased to breathe. When he leaned forward and his lips fluttered against hers, her footing became unsteady and she stumbled. He placed a hand on her lower back to steady her and pulled her close. Her breasts met his hard torso and she became aware at how frantically her heart beat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the kiss as their lips met. They explored each other with a sort of fascination, mouth and tongues claiming each other in their hunger. Delicately at first, as if not sure this was real or just a fantasy, and then strong and unyielding. Demanding this moment to never end. ~ Lisa Carlisle

This daemon loves men whose marriage beds have grown cold, so she can set them ablaze. ~ Solange Nicole

I think that being on my knees between your legs is the right place for me, Sir.
And what might you do for me, Rosie, while you are down there? ~ Rachel De Vine

We fell into each other's arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together. ~ Emme Rollins

Someone could be paraphilic in both his erotic target and his favorite sex act. I mean, really, any pellismophilic nebulophile (someone whose most passionate moments involve masturbating in the foggy mist while listening to a person stutter) can see that. ~ Jesse Bering

Anyone wishing to study medicine must master the art of massage. ~ Hippocrates

...Women have preserved this `baby look' for as long as possible so as to make the world continue to believe in the darling, sweet little girl she once was, and she relies on the protective instinct in man to make him take care of her.
As with everything a woman undertakes on her own initiative, this whole maneuvre is as incredible as it is stupid. It is amazing, in fact, that it succeeds. It would appear very shortsighted to encourage such an ideal of beauty. For how can any woman hope to maintain it beyond the age of twenty-five? Despite every trick of the cosmetics industry, despite magazine advice against thinking or laughing (both tend to create wrinkles), her actual age will inevitably show'- through in the end. And what on earth is a man to do with a grown-up face when he has been manipulated into considering only helpless, appealing little girls to be creatures of beauty?

What is a men to do with a woman when the smooth curves have become flabby tires of flesh, the skin slack and pallid, when the childish tones have grown shrill and the laughter sounds like neighing? What is to become of this shrew when her face no longer atones for her ceaseless inanities and when the cries of `Ooh' and Ah' begin to drive him out of his mind? This mummified `child' will never fire a man's erotic fantasy again. One might think her power broken at last.

But no, she still manages to get her own way - and for two reasons. The first is obvious: she now has child ~ Esther Vilar

I began to explore more body-centered approaches to emotional healing in the hopes of excavating deeper layers of unresolved material. The exploration began with a massage therapist who adeptly worked through layers of holding in my musculature for two hours per week. Although I was by no means muscle-bound, I was heavily armored, like an impenetrable fortress. As she peeled the armor, older and older memories emerged, muscles with a story that needed to be told. ~ Jeff Brown

She had no taste for the psychological, and nothing but scorn for the erotic. What she loved was a story which began with crime and ended with a detection - a story which kept you wondering who did it, how it was done, and when the doing was going to be laid bare to the light of day. ~ The Middle of Things ~ J.S. Fletcher

There was, of course, the dildo that I have described (though the device, or the instrument, was what I learned, following Diana, to call it: I think the unnecessary euphemism, with its particular odour of the surgery or house of correction, appealed to her; only when really heated would she call the thing by its proper name - and even then she was as likely to ask for Monsieur Dildo, or simply Monsieur). Besides this there was an album of photographs of big-buttocked girls with hairless parts, bearing feathers; also a collection of erotic pamphlets and novels, all hymning the delights of what I would call tommistry but what they, like Diana, called Sapphic Passion. ~ Sarah Waters

LOGAN: ...Izzy could do whatever the hell she wanted. All she needed to do was not give a sh*t about fitting in. ~ Sam Crescent

You are not a crowd. You are not a label. As an individual you have a unique place in my heart and mind. ~ Salil Jha

These are pious, clean-living men, worshipping at the temple of their own bodies."
"Hmm. Sounds distinctly erotic. ~ Richard K. Morgan

The Great Mother aborts children, and is the dead fetus; breeds pestilence, and is the plague; she makes of the skull something gruesomely compelling, and is all skulls herself. To unveil her is to risk madness, to gaze over the abyss, to lose the way, to remember the repressed trauma. She is the molestor of children, the golem, the bogey-man, the monster in the swamp, the rotting cadaverous zombie who threatens the living. She is progenitor of the devil, the "strange son of chaos." She is the serpent, and Eve, the temptress; she is the femme fatale, the insect in the ointment, the hidden cancer, the chronic sickness, the plague of locusts, the cause of drought, the poisoned water. She uses erotic pleasure as bait to keep the world alive and breeding; she is a gothic monster, who feeds on the blood of the living. ~ Jordan B. Peterson

1. The face tears up from laughter, and there is not flesh and soul, but a continuous smile of awareness.
2. A ghost is a hologram record of the projection of the universe, once generated by an accident of chaos, living in reality. This spirit is like the same memoirs and nostalgia of the past. This is a retro record of bygone times, traveling in empty eternity and nonsense, feeling only insensibility. A time-space film of time and space existing in time, in the depressing eternity of reality, in the void of consciousness of loneliness. A ghost who sees is not evolutionary progress, but the life cycle of a temporary transformation, rotting from the depravity of people.
3. Loneliness is a catcher of erotic dreams.
4. Careerism is a children's entertainment, attraction mini-golf of self-motivation and discipline.
5. Death from the dust of all the dead and dust of memories. Fear is all out of the darkness of the subconscious of billions of threads of manipulation.
6. Love relationships as a table hockey attraction, and the puck is the fault.
7. Laziness as an attraction a children's rocking chair is an illusion of movement.
8. The idea appeared in a mirror maze and it is reflected in all the mirrors, that is, the opinion that the source cannot be found because it is hidden from your eyes. You see that opinion is a sect. ~ Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

The poem is an act beyond paraphrase because what is being said is always inseparable from the way it is being said. Osip Mandelstam suggested that if a poem can be paraphrased, then the sheets haven't been rumpled, poetry hasn't spent the night. The words are an (erotic) visitation, a means to an end, but also an end in and of themselves. The poets is first of all a language worker. A maker. A shaper of language. ~ Edward Hirsch

YOU don't know her secret," Win said to me. "Should I?" Win shrugged. "It's bad?" I asked. "Very," Win said. "Then maybe I don't want to know." Two days before I learned the secret she'd kept buried for a decade - the seemingly personal secret that would not only devastate the two of us but change the world forever - Terese Collins called me at five AM, pushing me from one quasi-erotic dream into another. She simply said, "Come to Paris." I had not heard her voice in, what, seven years maybe, and the line had static and she didn't bother with hello or any preamble. I stirred and said, "Terese? Where are you?" "In a cozy hotel on the Left Bank called d'Aubusson. You'll love it here. There's an Air France flight leaving tonight at seven." I ~ Harlan Coben

Even with the sacred printing press, we got erotic novels 150 years before we got scientific journals. ~ Clay Shirky

I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all ... ~ Anais Nin

Bill didn't get any kind of erotic thrill from a wineglass of LifeFlow. ~ Charlaine Harris

That was some powerful shit. Like mind and pussy-numbing, fuckilepsy inducing, reproductive organ-exploding powerful. You really are some kind of flogger wielding sex God. ~ Ella Dominguez

SPIKE: Settling down is only good for one kind of man.

JESSE: The p*ssy kind?

SPIKE: Nah, the strong sort. You're a strong man, and you're honest. Never thought I'd think about those two words and you in the same sentence.

JESSE: I couldn't be a big d*ck all my life. ~ Sam Crescent

Love is friendship with erotic moments. ~ Antonio Gala

Erotic fiction is written for a class.
To understand and enjoy it, either you should have the class or the classy open mind. ~ Himmilicious

With skin dressed only in moonlight, she beckons you to her secret garden. ~ John Mark Green

Tighten your grip, make me bleed, it's a hunger I need to feed. Strip me bare, pull my hair, I don't care just take me there. ~ Pepper Winters

That grip tightened again but this time he started rubbing his first two fingers against her neck in a soft little rhythm. The action was almost erotic. Or maybe that was just the effect he was having on her. She could feel his gentle stroking all the way to the pulsing point between her legs. Maybe she had mental issues that this man was turning her on.

He leaned closer, skimming his mouth against her jawline and she froze. Just completely, utterly froze. "Are you meeting Tasev?" he whispered.

She'd told herself to be prepared for this question, to keep her reaction under wraps, but he came to his own conclusion if his savage curse was anything to go by. Damn it, Wesley was going to be pissed at her, but Levi had been right. She had operational latitude right now and she needed to keep Levi close. They needed to know what he knew and what he was planning. Trying to shut him out now, when he was at the party specifically to meet the German, would be stupid. Levi had stayed off their radar for two years because he was good. Of course Wesley hadn't exactly sent out a worldwide manhunt for him either. About a year ago he'd decided to more or less let him go.

Now . . . "I met with the German earlier tonight. He squeezed me in before some of his other meetings."

Levi snorted, his gaze dipping to her lips once more, that hungry look in place again. It was so raw and in her face it was hard to ignore that kind of desire and what it was doi ~ Katie Reus

He leaned in even closer until she could count the bristles on his poorly shaven chin. "But you're pretty. You can stay. Turn around and spread your legs so I can fuck you up against the wire. I'll get my cock in you so deep it'll need a directory to find its way out."
"That sounds ... dangerous."
"I am," he rumbled sexily, like a waterfall that's had a dam collapse upstream and is about to flood and destroy the village of peasants further downstream ... many of whom are poor and in desperate need of medical attention. ~ Cari Silverwood

I promise it'll only hurt half as much as I wish it would." The words came out as smooth and sweet as if she'd just told him that mint chocolate chip was the best flavor ice cream ever. ~ Avery Flynn