I believe that is what they call an erection. ~ Double Teamed
Gia BlueBarbara had really missed her calling. She should have been a gynecologist. Nothing pleased her more than having her face between another woman’s legs.
Elysia N. FieldsTags: lesbian lesbians erotica smut f-f
I didn’t know you were such a light-weight. I would have cut you off, Love Lump.”
I make a face, digging the bottle from the couch cushions. “Light-weight? This motherfucker is gone. Light-weight. Come lay on me. I’ll slap your sweet pussy swollen.
Snatch is an ugly word,” I say. “Like it’s going to rip my dick off. Yeah—that is an ugly motherfucking word. But pussy? It just sounds soft. Cuddly. It sounds wonderful. Pussy. I love that word.
Pella GraceWe tangle and merge. Love and let go. No one will ever know her like I do. I’ve touched every inch of skin. I’ve explored every part of her being. I love her shy when I pull her to my hips, my lap. I love her present uncertainty for things she knows how to do so fucking good. I love her pink flushed skin all over.
Pella GraceTags: romance sexy lyrical-writing smut
“You’ll have to excuse my shock. When the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen tells me she’s a virgin… I think I’ve just hit the lottery...” - Jonathan di Luca
R. MatthewsTags: contemporary romance-love smut her-soundtrack
One may, in a case of exigency, introduce the reader in to a nuptial chamber, not into a virginal chamber. Verse would hardly venture it, prose must not.
It is the interior of a flower that is not yet unfolded, it is whiteness in the dark, it is the private cell of a closed lily, which must not be gazed upon by man so long as the sun has not gazed upon it. Woman in the bud is sacred. That innocent bud which opens, that adorable half-nudity which is afraid of itself, that white foot which takes refuge in a slipper, that throat which veils itself before a mirror as though a mirror were an eye, that chemise which makes haste to rise up and conceal the shoulder for a creaking bit of furniture or a passing vehicle, those cords tied, those clasps fastened, those laces drawn, those tremors, those shivers of cold and modesty, that exquisite affright in every movement, that almost winged uneasiness where there is no cause for alarm, the successive phases of dressing, as charming as the clouds of dawn,—it is not fitting at all that all this should be narrated, and it is too much to have even called attention to it.
Since Betty was on the pill or took precautions of her own which Graham did not choose to enquire into, the marital bed was untrammelled by tedious prophylaxis so that what Graham had been expecting to find an onerous and even distasteful duty unexpectedly partook of a freedom and absence of restraint that he found exhilerating.
Alan BennettTags: smut delicately-put
...apparently "London" gave out my address! that's what they're saying...not just London, though! Brazzaville, too!...and said that I'm a dirty pornographer...a letch besides being the most despicable traitor of the century!...I'd make a urinal blush! that what we need is to cleanse France and the French language of this smut-writing, demoralizing, grammaclast who's sullying our sacred homeland and its literary heritage!
Louis-Ferdinand CélineTags: literature traitor smut
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