These girls with old gents don't do it despite the age—they're drawn to the age, they do it for the age. Why? In Consuela's case, because the vast difference in age gives her permission to submit, I think. My age and my
status give her, rationally, the license to surrender, and surrendering in bed is a not unpleasant sensation. But simultaneously, to give yourself over intimately to a much, much older man provides this sort of younger woman with authority of a kind she cannot get in a sexual arrangement with a younger man. She gets both the pleasures of submission and the pleasures of mastery.
Tags: sex submission
Here's a rule I recommend: Never practice two vices at once.
Tallulah BankheadIt's not true that I had nothing on. I had the radio on.
Marilyn Monroefor a man of 55 who didn't get laid
until he was 23 and not very often until he was 50 I think that I should stay listed via Pacific Telephone
until I get as much as the average man has had
Tags: sex
Touched by her fingers, the two surviving chocolate people copulate desperately, losing themselves in a melting frenzy of lust, spending the last of their brief borrowed lives in a spasm of raspberry cream and fear.
Neil Gaimansex is the consolation you have when you can't have love
Gabriel García MárquezTags: love passion sex loneliness lust desire
All this fuss about sleeping together. For physical pleasure I'd sooner go to my dentist any day.
Evelyn WaughHe wondered vaguely whether in the abolished past it had been a normal experience to lie in bed like this, in the cool of a summer evening, a man and a woman with no clothes on, making love when they chose, talking of what they chose, not feeling any compulsion to get up, simply lying there and listening to peaceful sounds outside. Surely there could never have been a time when that seemed ordinary?
George OrwellTags: love sex peace-of-mind escape-from-reality
If I had thought the beef marrow might be a hell of a lot of work for not much difference, I needn’t have worried. The taste of the marrow is rich, meaty, intense in a nearly-too-much way. In my increasingly depraved state, I could think of nothing at first but that it tasted like really good sex. But there was something more than that, even. What it really tastes like is life, well lived. Of course the cow I got marrow from had a fairly crappy life – lots of crowds and overmedication and bland food that might or might not have been a relative. But deep in his or her bones, there was a capacity for feral joy. I could taste it.
Julie PowellTags: life food beef sex meat cooking cows marrow
The world is filled with love-play, from animal lust to sublime compassion.
Alan W. Watts« first previous
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