She makes love just like a woman.
Men would always rather be made love to than talked at.
Your mouth was made to suck my kiss.
Here’s the thing, making out with a girl on camera … They’re beautiful and soft. I get why you guys are into it.
He kissed me desperately, like a drowning man and I was his oxygen.
Do you want to suck face or not?” “Suck face?” His head fell back and he laughed, his chest vibrating against me. It was a lusty, full-bodied sound and my toes curled at hearing it. Gideon laughed so rarely. My hands slid under his sweater and glided over that warm skin. My lips moved over his jaw. “Is that a no?” “Angel, I’ll suck on any part of your body I can get my mouth on.
Married people dont look like they have bedrooms on their minds when they look at each other. In this world, either you're virtuous or you enjoy yourself. Not both...Not both.
Truly, a little love-making is a very pleasant thing.
I'm speaking to someone I'm trying to get to fall in love with me. I'm trying to speak intimately to one person. That should be clear. I'm not speaking to an audience. I'm not writing for the podium. I'm just writing, trying to write in a fairly quiet tone to one other reader who is by herself, or himself, and I'm trying to interrupt some silence in their life, which is utterance.
But when I start to kiss someone - lust is the easiest emotion to generate.
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.
When someone is kissing you passionately, you feel passionate!
When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.
I will say, too, that lovemaking, if sincere, is one of the best ideas Satan put in the apple she gave to the serpent to give to Eve. The best idea in that apple, though, is making jazz.
I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My Valentine's jest somehow seems less funny.
The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.
We were kissing. I thought: This is good. I thought: I am not bad at this kissing. Not bad at all. I thought: I am clearly the greatest kisser in the history of the universe. Suddenly she laughed and pulled away from me. She wiggled a hand out of her sleeping bag and wiped her face. "You slobbered on my nose," she said, and laughed
Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.
You…you got rid of that dress fast," I pointed out between heavy breaths. "I thought you liked it." "I do like it," he said. His breathing was as heavy as mine. "I love it." And then he took me to the bed.
By giving the love act a name, if only an innocent little word like, "it," he paved the way for other words, words that would reflect physical love as in a set of mirrors.
In a love scene that's really advantageous because you don't have that horrible moment of: "We don't really know what we're supposed to be doing, we just know we're supposed to be snogging and then shagging." Then the director shouts "action" and it's like: "Should I feel her boobs? I don't want to feel her boobs!"
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.
I think kissing scenes always feel awkward but there's just no way around it. But it's a part of the job.
Sometimes it was so easy to forget that I was kissing a vampire.
Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
