Paul Reiser Quotes

Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his. With a guilty little smile he pulled my hand toward his nose and took a sniff and then another one. His smile widened though it was still shy. It was absolutely adorable and my breath got caught somewhere in my throat.

He pressed a kiss to my ear. “Do you feel stretched? Can you tell I’ve been inside you?” I nodded, feeling my knees go a little weak from the tone in his voice. “Good. I like knowing you can feel where I’ve been.

The nude thing, I don't know. It's sillier somehow. It's more like physical comedy. But kissing someone, it feels invasive to have everybody watching me.

According to an article on CNN.com, a new study says people who are bad kissers don't get laid. Where are you supposed to learn how to kiss? If you go to Catholic school, it's from your priest; in public school, you learn from your teacher; and some guys learn from their sisters... if their sister is Angelina Jolie.

Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped in my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. when I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one army going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.

I kiss her and she finds the light switch and turns it off, and we're just lit in Pepsi-can colors and it's like we've finally found this other kind of conversation, this conversation in gestures and pulls and pushes and breaths and grasps and teases and glimmers and rubs and expectation.

We now live in a society where karate is OK, but hugs are not.

I've noticed people in India have developed a habit of hugging around people. I don't understand it now. I wanted to be hugged when I was young. Now, if someone wants to hug me, I feel only claustrophobic.

It's very easy to imagine someone online in a positive way, but it's only when you sit down, with all five senses in play, that you can really tell, 'Do I find this person attractive?'

Stuart stands and says, 'Come here,' and he's on my side of the room in one stride and he claps my hands to his hips and kisses my mouth like I am the drink he's been dying for all day and I've heard girls say it's like melting, that feeling. But I think it's like rising, growing even taller and seeing sights over a hedge, colors you've never seen before.

I don't know how much time passes with us just lying there, just feeling that the other is really there, really true, really alive, feeling the safety of him, his weight against mine, the roughness of his fingers touching my face, his warmth and his smell and the dustiness of his clothes, and we barely speak.

And taking her friend’s hand, she put it on her breast, on that firm round covering of a woman’s heart which the male often finds so satisfying that he makes no attempt to find what lies beneath it.

A kiss is like a fight, with mouths.

Tension pulled my eyes open when her fingers traced a trail down my neck. Sensation blossomed, and I threw my head back and sucked in the air. Her arm slipped around my waist, catching me before I fell.

Kissing's a very organic and mechanical process. It's like a slap. You slap your co-star once and it's done.

He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

Kissing is something that makes up for a lot of other crap you have to put up with...It can be confusing and weird and awkward, but sometimes it just makes you melt and forget everything that is going on.

Real love is comforting, to be sure, but not always at first.

And so, from the first, we separated our pleasure. She lay on the rug and I lay at right angles to her so that only our lips might meet. Kissing in this way is the strangest of distractions. The greedy body that clamors for satisfaction is forced to content itself with a single sensation and, just as the blind hear more acutely and the deaf can feel the grass grow, so the mouth becomes the focus of love and all things pass through it and are re-defined. It is a sweet and precise torture.

You have a visceral, physical response to being in [the real] places, and the sights and sounds and the smells just bring something else out in you. You're not having to fake that or imagine that. It's there. It becomes as much an act of something you bounce off as the other people you're working with.

You have to realise that touching is a real violation of personal space.

When we finished the kiss she said laughing, I can taste your loneliness - it tastes like vinegar. That annoyed me. Everyone knows loneliness tastes like cold potato soup.

Pulse proximity is not intimacy.

The conversation of kisses. Subtle, engrossing, fearless, transforming.

Sunlight feels warm and rough against your skin like a kiss on the cheek from your dad.