Attraction Lust Quotes

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I believe in lust at first sight.And attraction.But not love.
Simone Elkeles (Rules of Attraction (Perfect Chemistry, #2))
the description of lust was simple: two people learn they're compatible , attraction grows, and the ancient instinct to preserve the species kicks in.
Nicholas Sparks (True Believer (Jeremy Marsh & Lexie Darnell, #1))
And it struck me then, that I liked Sean because he looked, well, slutty. A boy who had been around. A boy who couldn't remember if he was Catholic or not.
Bret Easton Ellis (The Rules of Attraction)
...She'd gone past interest, swung into attraction, burst through lust, tripped over affection, and was now skidding out of control into love.
Nora Roberts (Happy Ever After (Bride Quartet, #4))
If you live in rock and roll, as I do, you see the reality of sex, of male lust and women being aroused by male lust. It attracts women. It doesn't repel them.
Camille Paglia
His looks are my weakness, his mind my undoing.
Alessandra Torre (To Hold (The Dumont Diaries, #2))
Ok, look. Whenever I hear people say that they felt ‘sparks,’ I usually think it’s a load of poo. I mean, I have felt attraction to people, sure, and I have even felt some instant lust. But sparks? Please... Then he touched my skin. Sparks. Sparks. Sparks. Hot sparks. Flashing sparks. Lightning bolt sparks. J esus, Mary, and Joseph sparks.
Alice Clayton (The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead, #1))
I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say "I love you I love you I love you" while stripping. I want you so bad it stings.
Bret Easton Ellis (The Rules of Attraction)
Chemistry is great, but eventually your relationship moves out of the laboratory.
Tim Fargo
I will die happy here, today, in this spot,” she sighed. “In your puddle of lust.” “Leave my puddle of lust alone. Get your own puddle.
Penny Reid (Attraction (Elements of Chemistry, #1; Hypothesis, #1.1))
Physical attraction was about aesthetics, not sexual performance, not mental stimulation. Without a mental connection, a remarkable sexual performance yielded no lifelong guarantees. It was only lust. And lust was not love.
Eric Jerome Dickey (Pleasure (Nia #1))
We think we like or love some people until we see them regularly.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana
The Goddess falls in love with Herself, drawing forth her own emanation, which takes on a life of its own. Love of self for self is the creative force of the universe. Desire is the primal energy, and that energy is erotic: the attraction of lover to beloved, of planet to star, the lust of electron for proton. Love is the glue that holds the world together.
Starhawk (The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religions of the Great Goddess)
And then I stand in front of God's Throne squinting up at His blazing glory and He says, 'You had your opportunities, boy. But did you listen? No. You went on heedlesly reading that garbagey magazine with pictures of naked girls in it. How juvenile! I gave geese more sense than that.' Please, God. I'm only fourteen years old. A teenager. Have mercy. Be loving. I was,' says God. 'For eons. And look at what it got me. You.' God turns in disgust, just the way Daddy does. 'Sorry, but I'm the Creator. I take it personally. There are slugs and bugs and night-crawlers I feel better about having created - I mean, there are sparrows - I've got my eye on one right now. Is that sparrow consumed with lust? No. He mates in the spring and that's the end of it. Consider the lilies. Do they think about lily tits all the time? No. They look not and they lust not, and yet I say unto you that you will never be half as attractive as they. Therefore, I say unto you, think not about peckers and boobs and all that nonsense and your Heavenly Father will see that you meet a good woman and marry her, just as I do for the sparrow and walleye - yea verily, even the night-crawler and the eelpout. But I've told you this over and over for nineteen centuries. And now, verily, it's too late. Time's up, buster. Lights out! Game's over!
Garrison Keillor
The way he looked me up and down made a part of me burn with desire. Fire and electricity. Flames and sparks. Needing and wanting. Tempting temptation.
Angela Richardson (Pieces of Truth (Pieces of Lies, #2))
It's the kind of kiss that ends with clothes on the floor and somebody getting dicked out up against the wall.
Vanessa North (Rough Road (Lake Lovelace, #2))
She was wearing a beautiful dress with straps designed to be eaten off her shoulders.
Elise Valmorbida (The Book of Happy Endings: True Stories about Finding Love)
O woman, thou art my imperfection!
Pawan Mishra (Coinman: An Untold Conspiracy)
When a man dwells on the pleasure of sense, attraction for them arises in him. From attraction arises desire, the lust of possession, and this leads to passion, to anger. From passion comes confusion of mind, then loss of remembrance, the forgetting of duty. From this loss comes the ruin of reason, and the ruin of reason leads man to destruction.
Bhagavad Gita
He's unconventionally attractive and yet coincidentally everything I've ever wanted.
Crystal Woods (Write like no one is reading)
I won’t forget it,” I said. “I hope you meet someone perfect one day.” “Ha…yeah, that’s just it. I think I already did.” As we opened our doors to step out, he touched my arm. “Just to be clear, if I, like, leaned over and whispered your name in your ear, still nothing?
Laura Anderson Kurk (Perfect Glass)
On one hand the eternal attraction of man towards femininity (cf. Gn. 2:23) frees in him-or perhaps it should free-a gamut of spiritual-corporal desires of an especially personal and "sharing" nature (cf. analysis of the "beginning"), to which a proportionate pyramid of values corresponds. On the other hand, "lust" limits this gamut, obscuring the pyramid of values that marks the perennial attraction of male and female.
Pope John Paul II (Purity of Heart: Reflections on Love and Lust / Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body in Simple Language, Vol. 2)
As I looked into his eyes, trying to see into the depths of that darkness, it hit me. It was subtle, but it hit me. The rush of attraction.
Angela Richardson (Pieces of Truth (Pieces of Lies, #2))
His gaze, though almost improper, was the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolted her heart into a strange rhythm, leaving her unable to speak.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
When a person sees someone attractive to them, their eyes dilate twenty percent. Their brain floods with dopamine, which makes them happy. Thus, they believe it’s love. That’s a medical fact. Love doesn’t exist.
Kelly Moran (Residual Burn (Redwood Ridge, #4))
You see, Islam is the only religion that gives both husband and wife a true understanding of what love is. The Western “love” concept, you take it apart, it really is lust. But love transcends just the physical. Love is disposition, behaviour, attitude, thoughts, likes, dislikes - these things make a beautiful woman, a beautiful wife. This is the beauty that never fades. You find in your Western civilisation that when a man’s wife’s physical beauty fails, she loses her attraction. But Islam teaches us to look into the woman, and teaches her to look into us.
Malcolm X (The Autobiography of Malcolm X)
Kemia huunda mahusiano mema miongoni mwa watu.
Enock Maregesi
Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. If I stay, you’ll only fall madly in love with me like so many men before you.” “It’s you we have to worry about,” he sighed out. “You’ve already been trapped in my erotic web of lust. Might as well give it up to the daddy of all cats.” Grinning, Sissy stretched out next to Mitch, her arm thrown over his waist. “You keep on dreamin’ that dream, kitty.” “I will. I own ponies in that dream, too.
Shelly Laurenston (The Mane Attraction (Pride, #3))
For me sexuality is about attraction. Whether it’s men, women—it doesn’t really matter. The human race is filled with passion and lust. And to coin terms like heterosexuality, homosexuality or even bisexuality makes no sense to me. You are human. You love who you love. You fuck who you fuck. That should be enough—no labels. No stigmas. Nothing. Just be to be. But life isn’t that kind. People will always find things to hate.
Krista Ritchie (Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters, #1))
But there was something else going on here. He had to admit even to himself that the woman challenged his intellect and his beliefs with her own, and she wasn’t afraid to disagree with him or to disapprove of his views. Nor did she make any attempt to school her sentiments behind the polite, prim, and proper demeanor of the typical English noblewoman. She was fierce. She was passionate. She was fiery and intense. She was like no other woman he had ever met. And suddenly, just like that, he was under her spell once again.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
He is incredibly handsome. You never realized before how beautiful evil could be.
Teresa Lo (Realities: a Collection of Short Stories)
She had to remember not to look at him when he smiled like that.
Missy Lyons (Alien Promise)
It was as though he had awakened something inside her. All those desires she had felt in passing had culminated, growing deeper, hungrier, darker.
Nenia Campbell (Star Crossed (Shadow Thane, #4))
He had never been so infuriated by a woman in his life. Or more flummoxed. And never more aroused. He didn’t know whether to rant at her or kiss her.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
She dared not glance at him again. She might very well expire if she did.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
the description of lust was simple: two people learn they're compatible, attraction grows, and the ancient instinct to preserve the species kicks in.
Nicholas Sparks (True Believer (Jeremy Marsh & Lexie Darnell, #1))
First of all”—Feenie pointed at her—“you are not broken and I don’t ever want to hear that again. Second, being attracted to one person doesn’t necessarily change who you are. Maybe you’re graysexual instead of straight up ace. There’s just something about the way Takumi’s genetic code arranged his face and body that appeals to your brain chemistry. It’s insta-lust. Enjoy it for what it is.
Claire Kann (Let's Talk About Love)
She had, without realizing it at the time, learned to follow Nick's gaze, learned to learn his lust...his desires remained memorized within her. She looked at the attractive women he would look at...She had become him: she longed for these women. But she was also herself, and so she despised them. She lusted after them, but she also wanted to beat them up. A rapist. She had become a rapist, driving to work in a car.
Lorrie Moore (Birds of America: Stories)
When selecting a one-night stand, a heterosexual woman who is materialistic is a trillion times more likely to choose a sexually unattractive poor man who seems rich over a sexually attractive rich man who seems poor.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana (The Use and Misuse of Children)
Larry sat with his arm stretched out along the top of the front seat. His shirt cuff was pulled back by his position and displayed his slim, strong wrist and the lower part of his brown arm lightly covered with fine hairs. The sun shone goldly upon them. Something in Isabel's immobility attracted my attention, and I glanced at her. She was so still that you might have thought her hypnotized. Her breath was hurried. Her eyes were fixed on the sinewy wrist with its little golden hairs and on that long, delicate, but powerful hand, and I have never seen on a human countenance such a hungry concupiscence as I saw then on hers. It was a mask of lust. I would never have believed that her beautiful features could assume an expression of such unbridled sensuality. It was animal rather than human. The beauty was stripped from her face; the look upon it made her hideous and frightening. It horribly suggested the bitch in heat and I felt rather sick.
W. Somerset Maugham (The Razor's Edge)
It's unnerving how you fit in the basin of my thighs.
Audrey Rey
Having someone this male next to her made her soul feel exhilarated and convey brazenly suggestive, female, liberal ideas to her inner id.
Missy Lyons (Alien Promise)
Lust and attraction were dangerous things. They could make a man rush to his death without thinking twice.
A. Meredith Walters (The Contradiction of Solitude)
What a beautiful madness, to explore the darkness in one's own soul and find joy in the unearthing of such wicked thoughts.
Wiss Auguste
Julia’s heart would not be still. It would not stop the riotous beating it began when she saw Charles on the lawn. He had come for her. Despite her wishes, despite her orders to stay away, he had followed her here to Drake Manor, and she loved him all the more for it. Yet, it changed nothing. They still could never be together.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
I don't think I could ever live with either a man or a woman for a long time. Male and female are attractive to my mind, but when it comes to the sexual act I am afraid. In every situation I need a lot of stimulation before I am conquered by the forces of passion and lust. But confusion, before and after, is the dominant factor. I dreamed many times about a mature man with experience who would have the vigour of a boy but an adult's polished methods. Strangely enough, I also dreamed about women of my mother's age who were ideal lovers. These dreams came superimposed on one another. Sometimes the masculine element was dominant, sometimes the feminine one. At other times I wasn't sure. I saw a female body with male organs or a male body with female ones. These pictures, blended together in my mind, occasionally brought pleasure but more often pain.
Adam Thirlwell (Politics)
Neither of us wanted to say it first. But our two souls had become one in a realm no one else could venture into. The immortal coil of passion had wrapped around us forever. It had begun with lust and attraction and blossomed into so much more. Fear of rejection kept us from declaring it.
Sherry J. Soule (Beautifully Broken (Spellbound Prodigies #1))
Now he was kissing the shell of her ear, nipping at it gently and then soothing the nips with soft kisses. “You have no idea what you’re about to unleash if you continue.” He chuckled low once again, but said nothing as he bit the nape of her neck and gently licked it with his tongue. “You play with fire, sir.” “Let it burn, Julia. Let me be your King of Wands.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which, in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and even grandchildren) and turns it back: sends the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides. And this harem, once admitted, works against his ever getting out and really uniting with a real woman. For the harem is always accessible, always subservient, calls for no sacrifices or adjustments, and can be endowed with erotic and psychological attractions which no real woman can rival. Among those shadowy brides he is always adored, always the perfect lover: no demand is made on his unselfishness, no mortification ever imposed on his vanity. In the end, they become merely the medium through which he increasingly adores himself . . . . And it is not only the faculty of love which is thus sterilized, forced back on itself, but also the faculty of imagination. The true exercise of imagination, in my view, is (a) To help us to understand other people (b) To respond to, and, some of us, to produce, art. But it has also a bad use: to provide for us, in shadowy form, a substitute for virtues, successes, distinctions etc. which ought to be sought outside in the real world—e.g. picturing all I’d do if I were rich instead of earning and saving. Masturbation involves this abuse of imagination in erotic matters (which I think bad in itself) and thereby encourages a similar abuse of it in all spheres. After all, almost the main work of life is to come out of our selves, out of the little, dark prison we are all born in. Masturbation is to be avoided as all things are to be avoided which retard this process. The danger is that of coming to love the prison.
C.S. Lewis
According to scientists, there are three stages of love: lust, attraction, and attachment. And, it turns out, each of the stages is orchestrated by chemicals—neurotransmitters—in the brain. As you might expect, lust is ruled by testosterone and estrogen. The second stage, attraction, is governed by dopamine and serotonin. When, for example, couples report feeling indescribably happy in each other’s presence, that’s dopamine, the pleasure hormone, doing its work. Taking cocaine fosters the same level of euphoria. In fact, scientists who study both the brains of new lovers and cocaine addicts are hard-pressed to tell the difference. The second chemical of the attraction phase is serotonin. When couples confess that they can’t stop thinking about each other, it’s because their serotonin level has dropped. People in love have the same low serotonin levels as people with OCD. The reason they can’t stop thinking about each other is that they are literally obsessed. Oxytocin and vasopressin control the third stage: attachment or long-term bonding. Oxytocin is released during orgasm and makes you feel closer to the person you’ve had sex with. It’s also released during childbirth and helps bond mother to child. Vasopressin is released postcoitally. Natasha knows these facts cold. Knowing them helped her get over Rob’s betrayal. So she knows: love is just chemicals and coincidence. So why does Daniel feel like something more?
Nicola Yoon (The Sun Is Also a Star)
He kept his gaze locked on her. Though she couldn’t see it, she could sense it, and it unnerved her. “I’m probably just a little overheated myself.” His voice rumbled low around her, as though the words were meant only for her. They caressed her skin almost sensually.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
I was experiencing a full-on Mills and Boon moment, and I had no idea who he was.
Vanda Symon (Containment (Sam Shephard #3))
Attraction is easily manufactured.
Erica Goros
...you fall in love in three stages: lust, attraction and attachment.
Jennifer Cox (Around the World in 80 Dates)
Galileo, yet men turn around women!
Ljupka Cvetanova (The New Land)
I’m a little alarmed, Mr. Rodman. You said no one will ever know anything improper happened between us. You did not say there will be nothing improper between us.” “And I meant what I didn’t say.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
Being a woman attracted to another woman was confusing; a constant game of comparison and lust. You never quite knew whether you were jealous of their body or just jealous of the person who got to touch it.
Laura Steven (The Society For Soulless Girls)
At moments when Herman fantasized about a new metaphysics, or even a new religion, he based everything on the attraction of the sexes. In the beginning was lust. The godly, as well as the human, principle is desire. Gravity, light, magnetism, thought may be aspects of the same universal longing. Suffering, emptiness, darkness are nothing more than interruptions of a cosmic orgasm that grows forever in intensity...
Isaac Bashevis Singer (Enemies: A Love Story)
Stunned, Julia could not speak. She lost her breath and her ability to form words as the room spun for a moment at the irony. She hated irony. Detested it. And in this case, the Fates had been quite perverse in their mockery.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
When it comes to lust, words are never needed. You feel something inside you stir, your body begins to warm, and you just know. You can feel something buried spring to life, and just like that a connection is born. You’re strangers, then suddenly you’re something more . . . kindred spirits, like-minded in your attraction for each other.
Madeline Sheehan (Unbeloved (Undeniable, #4))
I crushed him to me and was hit with a feeling so incredibly strong that, for a moment, I couldn't breathe. There were aspects of it that I recognized easily - attraction, lust, but there were subtler aspects as well and they weren't as readily identifiable - companionship, longing and comfort. The only way I could describe that undercurrent of emotion, strangely, was ... home.
J.P. Barnaby (A House of Cards: Deconstructing Ethan (The Forbidden Room, #2))
She spun away from him and raced into the house toward her room to avoid an uncomfortable discussion. And as she flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, she finally confronted the awful, alarming, dreadful, and entirely horrifying possibility that she had been rejecting all day. Though she could hardly accept it, she could no longer deny it. She was pretty sure Mr. Rodman was the King of Wands.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
He cupped my chin with his big hand and watched me. He breathed hard through his nose. His shoulders heaved way harder than they should have after a few minutes of kissing. I was about to suggest some additional conditioning exercises before football season started. I opened my mouth to tell him. He kissed me again. His tongue passed my lips and played across my teeth. We’d only been kissing like this for a week, but it seemed very natural when I kissed him back the same way. My body was on autopilot as I reached blindly for his waist and dragged him even closer, his torso skin-to-skin with mine against the tree. Who were we? I was turning into any of the assorted older girls who’d been seen leaving the cab of Sean’s truck at night. I’d always viewed those girls with a mixture of awe and derision. Sexual attraction was funny. Lust was hilarious. Now, not so much. Those girls had my sympathy, because I totally got it. I ran my fingers lightly up Adam’s bare back. He gasped. I opened my eyes to see if I’d done something wrong. He still touched the tree, but his muscles were taut, holding on to it for dear life. His eyes were closed. He rubbed his rough cheek slowly against mine. I had done nothing wrong. He was savoring. I knew how he felt. Tracing my fingernails down his back again, I whispered, “Stubble or what?” Eyes still closed, he chuckled. “I’m not shaving until our parents let us date again.” He kissed my cheek. “What if it takes… a… while?” I asked, struggling to talk.
Jennifer Echols (Endless Summer (The Boys Next Door, #1-2))
[Harper'd] wondered briefly if those novels were making her set her standards too high. But then she'd realized that no, actually, what those stories had done was help her not confuse lust and crushes and simple attraction and I-kind-of-like-him with something deeper and more passionate. And they'd helped her decide to wait for the real thing. She knew what love looked like. It just hadn't come along for her. Yet.
Erin Nicholas (Getting Off Easy (Boys of the Big Easy, #4))
In the cities of the European Franks, women roam about exposing not only their faces, but also their brightly shining hair (after their necks, their most attractive feature), their arms, their beautiful throats, and even, if what Ive heard is true, a portion of their gorgeous legs; as a result, the men of those cities walk about with great difficulty, embarrassed and in extreme pain, because, you see, their front sides are always erect and this fact naturally leads to the paralysis of their society. Undoubtedly, this is why each day the Frank infidel surrenders another fortress to us Ottomans.
Orhan Pamuk (My Name Is Red)
Where rational thought is overcome by the strength of physical attraction. This feeling will draw words from the pen that one doesn't even know exist. This feeling will make one combine words that don't go 2gether but just sound so good U not only read them, U can smell them. (Reflecting on that straight up animal lust feeling)
Prince (The Beautiful Ones)
I had sex with Jett because I was attracted to him. Jett hired me because he wanted me. It was lust at first sight.
J.C. Reed
My brain fizzles. The 'this is your brain on drugs' warning, should also issue a 'this is your brain when Jackson Reid looks at you like that,' warning.
Ashley Jade (Blame It on the Pain)
However, she’d been telling the truth about one thing—the attraction had become flash powder between them, waiting for the match to drop.
Katherine McIntyre (Hypnotizing Beat (Discord's Desire #2))
Kartik feels like a country I want to travel—vast, dangerous, and unknown.
Libba Bray (A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle, #1))
If Eddie had ever seen a more beautiful woman, he couldn't remember it.
Philip Elliott (Nobody Move (Angel City #1))
Your eyes exude insinuation and you know it.
Tali Sara (Screaming into Pillows)
Wine enhances your beauty by making others look at you differently. Well, so long as they are the ones drinking it. If you come visit my duck farm, I have some old grapes I could serve you.
Jarod Kintz (Music is fluid, and my saxophone overflows when my ducks slosh in the sounds I make in elevators.)
According to scientists, there are three stages of love: lust, attraction, and attachment. And, it turns out, each of the stages is orchestrated by chemicals – neurotransmitters – in the brain.
Nicola Yoon (The Sun Is Also a Star)
As a culture, we place great stock in external appearance. Our attachment to physical beauty is something that we need to let go of, yet it seems that the majority of people are racing toward it.
Thich Nhat Hanh (Fidelity: How to Create a Loving Relationship That Lasts)
Love begins with the stage of subconscious primitive lust and attraction. I’m saying primitive because at this very early stage there is really no difference between primitive man and modern man.
Abhijit Naskar (Love, God & Neurons: Memoir of a scientist who found himself by getting lost)
I was growing inward incessantly; like an animal that hibernates during the wintertime, I could hear other peoples' voices with my ears; my own voice, however, I could hear only in my throat. The loneliness and the solitude that lurked behind me were like a condensed, thick, eternal night, like one of those nights with a dense, persistent, sticky darkness which waits to pounce on unpopulated cities filled with lustful and vengeful dreams. My whole being could now be summed up in my voice―an insane, absolute record. The force that, out of loneliness, brings two individuals together to procreate has its roots in this same insanity which exists in everyone and which is mingled with a sense of regret, tending gradually toward death...Only death does not tell lies! The presence of death annihilates all that is imaginary. We are the offspring of death and death delivers us from the tantalizing, fraudulent attractions of life; it is death that beckons us from the depths of life.
Sadegh Hedayat (The Blind Owl)
Annabel,” I whispered in her ear, making sure not to touch her. Her heartbeat accelerated, her skin got the chills, and her pupils dilated, not to mention how delicious she smelled and how the excitement only increased the scent. My own body got tense and aroused. “Let your guard down and trust me. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. I’m not trying to get you drunk or trick you. I just want to get to know you better.” “Shane,” she replied with her sexy, hot, and alluring voice that sent spirals of lust down my spine. “I have nothing against sleeping with you. I’m fully dressed for that.
Anna Santos (Soul-Mate (Immortal Love #1))
Gravity is why there are suns and planets in the first place. It is practically God. In the beginning, the cosmos was nothing but empty space and vast clouds of gases. Eventually the gases cooled to the point where tiny grains coalesced. These grains would have spent eternity moving through space, ignoring each other, had gravitational attraction not brought them together. Gravitation is the lust of the cosmos.
Mary Roach (Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void)
Most of us begin, aided by almost every aspect of our culture, hoping for a perfect marriage. What this means is that we accept sexual attractiveness as a clue to finding our way in the labyrinth of marriage. It almost never is. Oddly enough, the media, which promise marriage as the happy ending, almost simultaneously show it, after several years, to be more ending than happy. But the dream lives on that this time will be different. "Perhaps the reason the truth is so little told is that it sounds quotidian, bourgeois, even like advocating proportion, that most unappealing of all virtues. But E. M. Forester understood this: when someone suggested that truth is halfway between extremes, his answer (in Howards End) was, "No; truth, being alive, was not halfway between anything. It was only to be found by continuous excursions into either realm, and though proportion is the final secret, to espouse it at the outset is to ensure sterility." Proportion is the final secret, and that is why all good marriages are what Stanley Cavell calls 'remarriages,' and not lust masquerading as passion.
Carolyn G. Heilbrun (Writing a Woman's Life)
Chong said, "Do yourself a favor, Morg. Next time you're staring at a girl's boobs, look up. You'll be shocked to learn it, but there's going to be a face up there. Nose, mouth, eyes. And behind the eyes is an actual person." "Yes, Confucius, I know. Girls are people. Wisom of the ages. Nix is a girl and therefore a person. I know that." "Really?" said Chong as he watched Benny vanish around a corner. "Maybe if you looked her in the eyes, she'd know that you know.
Jonathan Maberry
To begin with, at home I spent most of my time reading. I wanted to stifle all that was continuously boiling up inside me through external impressions. Out of all external impressions, reading was the only one possible for me. Of course, reading helped a lot - it excited, delighted and tormented me. But at times it bored me to death. For all that I still wanted to be doing things and I would suddenly plunge into dark, subterranean, vile, not so much depravity as petty dissipation. My mean, trivial, lusts were keen and fiery as a result of my constant, morbid irritability. The surges were hysterical, always accompanied by tears and convulsion. Apart from reading I had nowhere to turn - I mean, there was nothing in my surroundings that I could respect then or to which I might have been attracted. Moreover, dreadful ennui was seething within me, a hysterical craving for contradictions and contrasts would make its presence felt [...].
Fyodor Dostoevsky (Notes from Underground, White Nights, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, and Selections from The House of the Dead)
He was a jerk; he didn’t deserve to be the object of my lust. But he’d smelled so fucking good, like spice and musk and man. We don’t have control over what we fantasize about. The fact that he was mean and unattainable made him that much more likely to be an object of my forbidden thoughts. Just like I learned in psychology class back in college, thought suppression often leads to obsession. If you tell yourself not to think about something, then you’ll think about it even more.
Penelope Ward (Neighbor Dearest)
Did I misread the heat in your eyes? Was I wrong about what you wanted?” Still unable to form words, she said nothing. “Because I know without question what I wanted in that moment.” He paused as though he were waiting for her to respond, but still, she remained silent. He chuckled, his voice low and seductive. “Wouldn’t you like to know what that was?” She shook her head no. He shrugged. “I’ll tell you anyway. I wanted more than anything in the world to take you in my arms, Julia, and kiss you senseless. And much more. So. Much. More.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read.
James Joyce (Araby)
His kiss is deep, fathomless. It is the kiss of one who wants to invade your body will all of their being, to abolish constraints and bring to life desires long repressed. It's a kiss that removes daily existence from the mind, grounding you firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it.
Tali Sara (Screaming into Pillows)
Speaking of fire, sometimes his eyes seemed to be reflecting it, even though there wasn't any. The car was nearly pitch-black, for God's sake. His eyes shouldn't be allowed, physically or morally, to glint like that. His pupils were disrespectful to the laws of nature. My skin started burning under them.
Emily Henry (Beach Read)
Well, let me put it this way: the only thing about the King of Wands that doesn’t quite fit with you is that he is a man of fiery passions.” He raised his brows. “And I am not?” She smirked at him. “I don’t know. Are you?” Such a question. He dismissed it as rhetorical until she laid the king on the table and locked eyes with him. Boldly. And as he studied her expression, he sensed an invitation. A dare. A challenge for him to answer her about whether he was a man of fiery passions. He nearly succumbed to the temptation to show her just how fiery his passions could be. Restraint, Charles. Hold yourself in check. He sobered, as temperance, his lifelong, rational, and calming friend, curbed his urge to kiss the question right off her lips.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
Lola found herself staring at him when he turned back to the road. He was tall enough that his dark, wavy hair touched the roof of the car, and so broad his sculpted bicep continually brushed against her bare upper arm, sending shivers straight to her nipples and between her legs. She crossed her thighs, disgusted with herself, and vowed not to start lusting after this jerk.
Sweden Reese (The Southern Gentleman: Protective Instinct (Dominant Heroes Collection #1))
Have patience, my dear child. Your happiness will be a few years in coming. You have many challenges ahead of you in the meantime. But be brave. Be tenacious. And you will survive even your worst nightmares. Remember, you are the clay vessel, and the misfortunes that befall you are but the fires of a kiln. They will strengthen you and transform you into a radiant work of art.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
It was the prospect of seeing Mr. Rodman again that agitated her, especially after their miserable discussion of her beliefs and their silent but heated interaction over the Kama Sutra last Sunday. She didn’t like Mr. Rodman. Not really. There was no denying he was attractive and that he had the potential to affect her like no other man ever had. Still, he was an arse. Not only did he disparage her beliefs and practices but also he had condemned her for keeping wives from their husbands by offering them refuge in her home. True, he might have said he approved of the shelters after hearing the story of Phoebe, but when it came down to it, he was a man. And she had no doubt that, as a man, he would side with other men, the law, and the Church over a woman’s fate, if ever asked to do so.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
He takes the beer and sets it on the floor. "I've never been into guys. So, this attraction to you is a little weird for me." I try to ease his mind by telling him that a lot of straight guys have at least one homosexual experience in their lifetime and that it's pretty normal. "Yeah… that's what I hear." "So don't over-think it. Just do me." He laughs, runs his hand down my arms, over my chest, and follows my happy trail down to my pubes.
Giorge Leedy (Uninhibited From Lust To Love)
Men's sense of being sexually oriented toward women must signal, as it does for most lesbians, an acute interest and investment in women's lives and accomplishments because, within deep heterosexuality, attraction is measly and half-baked if not a synthesis of lust and humanization... to be into women, one must be for women. To be an authentically straight man--and not a pseudoheterosexual who uses women to impress men--one must be a feminist.
Jane Ward (The Tragedy of Heterosexuality)
UNMERCIFUL My body was a useless entity. In your presence, it betrayed me. Like dangerous waters beckoning In their mystifying beauty. Their tantalizing fluidity caressed my body As I resisted taking the plunge. My body betrayed me, Ignored me like a preoccupied stranger With a will of its own. And, I cruelly learned, I could control what happened Only if you were merciful. But, watching you, Listening to you, Was not merciful. It was a torturous joy.
Kyrian Lyndon (Awake with the Songbirds)
I don’t know, man.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Ew!” I recoiled. “You smoke?” “Only when I drink,” he said, reaching for a lighter, “or when I’m seriously depressed.” I snatched the pack away. “These will kill you, and you don’t want that.” “Yeah?” he said sarcastically. “How should I get myself killed then?” “You could hang out with me some more,” I suggested. “I attract homicidal maniacs like mosquitoes, baby.
Kyra Davis (Lust, Loathing and a Little Lip Gloss (Sophie Katz Murder Mystery, #4))
Thermodynamics is one of those words best avoided in a book with any pretence to be popular, but it is more engaging if seen for what it is: the science of 'desire'. The existence of atoms and molecules is dominated by 'attractions', 'repulsions', 'wants' and 'discharges', to the point that it becomes virtually impossible to write about chemistry without giving in to some sort of randy anthromorphism. Molecules 'want' to lose or gain electrons; attract opposite charges; repulse similar charges; or cohabit with molecules of similar character. A chemical reaction happens spontaneously if all the molecular partners desire to participate; or they can be pressed to react unwillingly through greater force. And of course some molecules really want to react but find it hard to overcome their innate shyness. A little gentle flirtation might prompt a massive release of lust, a discharge of pure energy. But perhaps I should stop there.
Nick Lane (Life Ascending: The Ten Great Inventions of Evolution)
How attracted to one another we had been; how light she felt on my lap; how exciting it always was; how, even though we weren't having "full sex," all the elements of it--the lust, the tenderness, the candour, the trust--were there anyway. And how part of me hadn't minded not "going the whole way"...This acceptance of less than others had was also due to fear, of course: fear of pregnancy, fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, fear of an overwhelming closeness I couldn't handle.
Julian Barnes (The Sense of an Ending)
They kissed for years, it seemed, and yet when he broke contact, it felt like he had kissed her for mere seconds. She wanted more from him, but he let go of her and backed away. Irritated with him for taking advantage of her sensibilities and with herself for succumbing to her baser urges as she always did with him, she crossed her arms over her chest again. “Is that all then? Have you nothing more to say?” “I think I’ve said everything, except . . . I’m an arse, Julia.” Her eyes narrowed of their own accord. “Go on.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
His touch had scorched her skin and lit a fire within her so intense she thought her hair would ignite. Worse, when she turned around to thank him, she froze, spellbound by his gaze, realizing that if she didn’t do something to tamp down the desire that his aquamarine eyes, his bergamot scent, and his very presence had enflamed within her, she would do something entirely inappropriate, like reach out and launch herself into his arms. He is not the King of Wands. He is not the King of Wands. He is not the King of Wands.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
Grumpy Wes stomps into the bedroom and I follow him, because it’s one of two functional rooms in our place. I set down the coffee maker and watch while he throws off his shirt and climbs onto our giant bed. “Would you please get over here?” he whines. “It’s an emergency.” “It’s a good thing you’re so attractive,” I mutter as I ditch my shoes. “I had no idea that stepping into a store turned you into cryin’ Ryan.” I walk over to the bed where a shirtless, ripped man lies waiting for me, his expression burning up with lust.
Sarina Bowen (Him (Him, #1))
Permit me. Permit me, Engineer, to say to you, and to bring it home to you, that the only sane, noble—and I will expressly add, the only religious way to think of death is as part and parcel of life; to regard it, with the understanding and with the emotions, as the inviolable condition of life. It is the very opposite of sane, noble, reasonable, or religious to divorce it in any way from life, or to play it off against it. The ancients adorned their sarcophagi with the emblems of life and procreation, and even with obscene symbols; in the religions of antiquity the sacred and the obscene often lay very close together. These men knew how to pay homage to death. For death is worthy of homage, as the cradle of life, as the womb of palingenesis. Severed from life, it becomes a spectre, a distortion, and worse. For death, as an independent power, is a lustful power, whose vicious attraction is strong indeed; to feel drawn to it, to feel sympathy with it, is without any doubt at all the most ghastly aberration to which the spirit of man is prone.
Thomas Mann (The Magic Mountain)
The time is gone when love was light, It was pure with intent bright. The attractions, distractions and cheats were tale, The feel to be with one was without fail. To be in love was a miracle and light, Losing someone was accepted with delight. But things have changed so far, When being fake and dishonest are at par. The trust is gone, lust exists, Thought to be in leisure persists. Cheat on me and I will on someone, The mind will play but the heart will run, Swindling and deceiving will grow, You will cry When Love meets your Ego....
Krishna Verma (When Love Meets Ego)
She suppressed an eye roll when he reiterated his question as if she had not heard it. She regarded him more closely then, and not for the first time, she noted that he was a handsome man. Alarmingly so. Were he anything other than a vicar and she anyone else but his patroness, she might have found herself attracted to him, in fact. The wildly inappropriate notion amused her while also sending a warm wave throughout her body, and she fanned herself again as she laughed aloud. Embarrassed by her sudden outburst, she managed to sober herself before speaking. “Next Sunday, you say?” “Yes, next Sunday. Why do you laugh?” Nerves, she supposed, and then she laughed again. “I don’t really know.” “You don’t really know whether you’ll attend church next Sunday, or you don’t really know why you are laughing?” “A little of both, perhaps.” She laughed yet again, and when he did not, she sucked in her cheeks in an attempt to stifle more laughter. “Forgive me, Mr. Rodman. In answer to your question, I don’t know whether I’ll be in church next Sunday. I could be back in London then, for all I know.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
Thank you, Mr. Rodman.” When he heard her whispered response, his gaze fell to her lips, and desire coiled through his body as he imagined how they would feel beneath his. Warm and pliant, no doubt. Eager and willing, maybe. Greedy with insatiable need? He hoped. “You’re most welcome.” She didn’t move, and he? He couldn’t move. He remained rooted to the stone floor as her lovely face entranced him. He was too aware of how close they stood to one another for rational thought. It would take no effort whatsoever for him to lean down and kiss her luscious lips. Something flickered in her eyes as they stared at each other, and he could sense the moment she felt the same pull as he did. Something primal, something hot flashed between them, and as he reached up to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he determined right then he would do it. He parted his lips slightly and bent down subtly. He was inches away from contact, but he wavered just one second too long as he debated with himself whether to touch her lips lightly with his own or give in to the powerful urge to crush his mouth and body against hers.
Anna Durbin (King of Wands)
Incredible.” His chest heaves, and the fingers in my hair loosen. I climb up his chest and spread kisses across his lips. “What’s incredible is how you can whisper Suck me harder and make it sound like a love song.” He chuckles into my mouth, and the kiss that follows flows through my blood like a drug. I’m addicted to this man, an addiction that transcends lust and orgasms and physical attraction. Not only do I need his love, I need his patience and dominance, the kind only he can give me. It’s a soul-deep craving, one I will always come back for, again and again.
Pam Godwin (Two is a Lie (Tangled Lies, #2))
Detecting a note of inordinate concern for the young woman, Fred quizzed, "Could it be that our pretty little rabbit has caught the hunter's heart?" Rider felt distinctly uncomfortable under Fred's all-too-knowing eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. This is a job, not a honeymoon!" "Why,you're in love with her, aren't you?" "Hell,no! What gave you that half-cocked idea?" "You objected too fast." Fred smiled. "How could I love a woman like her? For God's sake, Fred, she acts more like a man than a woman. It's just that..." Rider rubbed at the back of his neck. "Damn, the woman walks around naked under that shirt of hers, jiggling and bouncing. Naturally, I'm attracted. You would be, too! But believe me, Fred, lust is all I feel for her." "You got it bad, my friend." Fred chuckled. "When we get done talking here, I suggest you take Annie over there"-he jerked his head toward a brunette-"upstairs for a good romp in the sack." "Maybe I should.I've tried to avoid Willow but just thinking about her gets me randy." Even as he mouthed the words, Rider knew he would not do as Fred suggested. There was only one woman who could cure his ache and, unfortunately for him, no other would do.
Charlotte McPherren (Song of the Willow)
The process by which bourgeois society developed out of the ruins of its revolutionary traditions and memories added the black ghost of boredom to economic saturation and general indifference to political questions. Jews became people with whom one hoped to while away some time. The less one thought of them as equals, the more attractive and entertaining they became. Bourgeois society, in its search for entertainment and its passionate interest in the individual, insofar as he differed from the norm that is man, discovered the attraction of everything that could be supposed to be mysteriously wicked or secretly vicious. And precisely this feverish preference opened the doors of society to Jews; for within the framework of this society, Jewishness, after having been distorted into a psychological quality, could easily be perverted into a vice. The Enlightenment’s genuine tolerance and curiosity for everything human was being replaced by a morbid lust for the exotic, abnormal, and different as such. Several types in society, one after the other, represented the exotic, the anomalous, the different, but none of them was in the least connected with political questions. Thus
Hannah Arendt (The Origins of Totalitarianism)
This might be my last chance to say this.” My breath stopped. My heart pounded in my ears. “I’ve felt this way for a while. I knew it was just attraction at first. But after taking you to my island, I realized it was more. So much more. I love you, Kristen. I mean truly love you. Not obsession. Not lust. Not selfish possession. Not some kind of blind idealism. Not some sick, twisted version of love—but the real thing. One with eyes open. One with respect. One that never underestimates the hardships to its existence, never takes the other person for granted. The only kind of love there really is.
Priscilla West (Beautiful Surrender (Forever, #3))
I had all kinds of answers ready for the commissions that called me in and asked me what had made me become a Communist, but what had attracted me to the movement more than anything, dazzled me, was the feeling (real or apparent) of standing near the wheel of history. For in those days we actually did decide the fate of men and events, especially at the universities; in those early years there were very few Communists on the faculty, and the Communists in the student body ran the universities almost single-handed, making decisions on academic staffing, teaching reform, and the curriculum. The intoxication we experienced is commonly known as the intoxication of power, but (with a bit of good will) I could choose less severe words: we were bewitched by history; we were drunk with the thought of jumping on its back and feeling it beneath us; admittedly, in most cases the result was an ugly lust for power, but (as all human affairs are ambiguous) there was still (and especially, perhaps, in us, the young), an altogether idealistic illusion that we were inaugurating a human era in which man (all men) would be neither outside history, nor under the heel of history, but would create and direct it.
Milan Kundera (The Joke)
Don’t you remember how I was always all over you, wanting cuddles and hugs and your hands on me? I loved being close to you, loved your scent, even when you came from the gym and claimed that you smelled gross. I loved being your babe, your love, and your sweetheart. I “always loved touching you,” Harry said softly, licking his lips. He moved his hands from Adam’s shoulders and slipped them under Adam’s unbuttoned shirt. “Even when I was incapable of feeling arousal, I was still attracted to you so badly I felt the attraction even despite the bond, but I couldn’t quite understand what I felt until the bond broke completely.” Harry looked Adam in the eye, his face open and earnest. “I was ridiculously smitten with you. You were my sun and my moon and my stars. I wanted to make you happy. I “wanted to impress you. I wanted you to smile at me and call me love. I wanted you to say I was special to you, your only babe. I fell in love with you long before I was even capable of feeling lust.” Harry took Adam’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you,” he murmured. “I always have. The fact that I need you physically doesn’t negate the fact that I love you so very much. Because I do.” He nuzzled into Adam’s hand like a kitten. “I love you. I love you more than you can imagine. I don’t care what people back home will think of me because of our relationship. I want to be yours. I am yours. Your Harry.
Alessandra Hazard (That Alien Feeling (Calluvia's Royalty, #1))
If your heart’s no’ engaged in your marriage, then ye shouldna be averse to a wee bit of lust outside of it,” he said, advancing around to her. She made him feel pleasurably male again. He decided to listen to his groin and not stifle the urge. Lust wasn’t the same as love. Surely it wouldn’t be a betrayal of Fiona if he used his body to wreak vengeance on his enemy. Especially not if he convinced Lachlan’s bride to succumb willingly. “Ye interrupted the ceremony before the vows were complete. I’m no’ even officially a wife, I dinna suppose,” she said, still circling the spring to keep her distance from him. Her nipples stood out beneath her bodice, whether from cold or the memory of his touch, he didn’t much care. They were a fine sight in any case. He ached to suckle them.
Connie Mason (Sins of the Highlander)
To clothe the penguins is a very serious business. At present when a penguin desires a penguin he knows precisely what he desires and his lust is limited by an exact knowledge of its object. At this moment two or three couples of penguins are making love on the beach. See with what simplicity! No one pays any attention and the actors themselves do not seem to be greatly preoccupied. But when the female penguins are clothed, the male penguin will not form so exact a notion of what it is that attracts him to them. His indeterminate desires will fly out into all sorts of dreams and illusions; in short, father, he will know love and its mad torments. And all the time the female penguins will cast down their eyes and bite their lips, and take on airs as if they kept a treasure under their clothes! . . . what a pity!
Anatole France (Penguin Island)
And as for the Ellison Fellow's feelings towards Katherine Potter--to be honest, they involve a good deal of confusion. He reacts before Katherine Potter, in fact, as he has reacted before all new, strange (attractive) women who happen, since a certain event, to have crossed his path. He does not know how to deal with them. He is filled with dismay, a giddy sense of arbitrariness, an apprehension that the universe holds nothing sacred; all of which is only to be stilled by the imperative of loyal resistance. He is not immune to the prickle of passing lust. But he deals defensively with it. He reacts either with disdainful dismissal (Not your type, definitely not your type) or with a rampant if covert seizure of lecherousness (Christ, what tits! What legs! What an arse!), which serves the same forestalling function by reducing its object to meat and its subject (he is past fifty, after all) to a pother of shame.
Graham Swift (Ever After)
The necessary consequence of this life of the Christian in hope is that he learns to consider the present earthly life as a journey, a pilgrimage, something necessary for the sake of the end but which does not have any independent value or attraction in itself. This is a thought which pervades and colours the entire epistle. Peter in the very opening words addresses the readers as sojourners of the dispersion – two terms which strikingly express that they are away from home, a colony with regard to heaven, scattered in a strange world as truly as the scattered Jews were a diaspora to the holy land and Jerusalem. He tells them to gird up the loins of their minds as befits a traveller journeying through. And again he says: ‘Pass the time of your sojourning in fear’ (1:17). Once more: ‘Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims to abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul’ (2:11). Without a certain detachment from this world, other-worldliness is not possible. Hope cannot flourish where the heart is in the present life.
Geerhardus Vos (Grace and Glory)
many people believe men have higher sex drives, which may contribute somewhat to their seeking out sex even without attraction. They may be less likely to recognize anything different about how/why they seek out sex, especially since men aren’t as likely to be shamed for avoiding committed partnership or emotional attraction while still desiring sexual activity. If they’re sexually functional cisgender men, they may believe their ability to get erections and their response to stimuli means they can’t be asexual or that they must be sexually attracted to anyone with whom they enjoy sexual activities. Men are also popularly expected to define themselves through sexual conquests, lust, and bedroom performance, so sometimes they can be less likely to identify as asexual because they fear having their masculinity challenged. Also, more asexual men report being willing to have sex they don’t particularly want when pressured or invited; among men, sex is usually considered less of a “big deal” to try despite lack of interest, though there are, of course, asexual men who are sex repulsed. They
Julie Sondra Decker (The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality)
With a gasp, she yanked her hand out of his light hold as though she had been burned. "You are bold, sir!" "And you are blushing." He slipped her a narrow, charming little smile and went to answer the door. Anger and confusion thudded in her temples as she tucked her still-tingling hand in her lap. She scowled, furious at her own bewildering state of arousal. She had never felt such things before. Wet and aching between her legs, she squeezed her knees together firmly under her skirts, trying to remind her body that her head and her morals were in charge. Lucien Knight was not. Lust was hardly a sentiment to which she aspired. She slid a furtive glance his way, wondering why he had not yet opened the door. He just stood there, one hand on the doorknob, his head down. Then she realized he was struggling to bring his magnificent body under control. As though he felt her gaze on his powerful, V-shaped back and lean, muscled derriere, he slowly looked over his shoulder and met her stare in raw longing. Neither of them spoke for a moment, swept up in a totally unexpected, unsought, unwanted attraction of dizzying power. "Shall I come to you tonight?" he asked very quietly,
Gaelen Foley (Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2))
Alice's Cutie Code TM Version 2.1 - Colour Expansion Pack (aka Because this stuff won’t stop being confusing and my friends are mean edition) From Red to Green, with all the colours in between (wait, okay, that rhymes, but green to red makes more sense. Dang.) From Green to Red, with all the colours in between Friend Sampling Group: Fennie, Casey, Logan, Aisha and Jocelyn Green  Friends’ Reaction: Induces a minimum amount of warm and fuzzies. If you don’t say “aw”, you’re “dead inside”  My Reaction: Sort of agree with friends minus the “dead inside” but because that’s a really awful thing to say. Puppies are a good example. So is Walter Bishop. Green-Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: A noticeable step up from Green warm and fuzzies. Transitioning from cute to slightly attractive. Acceptable crush material. “Kissing.”  My Reaction: A good dance song. Inspirational nature photos. Stuff that makes me laugh. Pairing: Madison and Allen from splash Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: Something that makes you super happy but you don’t know why. “Really pretty, but not too pretty.” Acceptable dating material. People you’d want to “bang on sight.”  My Reaction: Love songs for sure! Cookies for some reason or a really good meal. Makes me feel like it’s possible to hold sunshine, I think. Character: Maxon from the selection series. Music: Carly Rae Jepsen Yellow-Orange  Friends’ Reaction: (When asked for non-sexual examples, no one had an answer. From an objective perspective, *pushes up glasses* this is the breaking point. Answers definitely skew toward romantic or sexual after this.)  My Reaction: Something that really gets me in my feels. Also art – oil paintings of landscapes in particular. (What is with me and scenery? Maybe I should take an art class) Character: Dean Winchester. Model: Liu Wren. Orange  Friends’ Reaction: “So pretty it makes you jealous. Or gay.”  “Definitely agree about the gay part. No homo, though. There’s just some really hot dudes out there.”(Feenie’s side-eye was so intense while the others were answering this part LOLOLOLOLOL.) A really good first date with someone you’d want to see again.  My Reaction: People I would consider very beautiful. A near-perfect season finale. I’ve also cried at this level, which was interesting. o Possible tie-in to romantic feels? Not sure yet. Orange-Red  Friends’ Reaction: “When lust and love collide.” “That Japanese saying ‘koi no yokan.’ It’s kind of like love at first sight but not really. You meet someone and you know you two have a future, like someday you’ll fall in love. Just not right now.” (<-- I like this answer best, yes.) “If I really, really like a girl and I’m interested in her as a person, guess. I’d be cool if she liked the same games as me so we could play together.”  My Reaction: Something that gives me chills or has that time-stopping factor. Lots of staring. An extremely well-decorated room. Singers who have really good voices and can hit and hold superb high notes, like Whitney Houston. Model: Jasmine Tooke. Paring: Abbie and Ichabod from Sleepy Hollow o Romantic thoughts? Someday my prince (or princess, because who am I kidding?) will come? Red (aka the most controversial code)  Friends’ Reaction: “Panty-dropping levels” (<-- wtf Casey???).  “Naked girls.” ”Ryan. And ripped dudes who like to cook topless.”  “K-pop and anime girls.” (<-- Dear. God. The whole table went silent after he said that. Jocelyn was SO UNCOMFORTABLE but tried to hide it OMG it was bad. Fennie literally tried to slap some sense into him.)  My Reaction: Uncontrollable staring. Urge to touch is strong, which I must fight because not everyone is cool with that. There may even be slack-jawed drooling involved. I think that’s what would happen. I’ve never seen or experienced anything that I would give Red to.
Claire Kann (Let's Talk About Love)
Okay, listen to me one more time. I find you very beautiful, and I'm not going to be some guy who leaves you hanging like that idiot did yesterday evening. I am willing to show you what a real woman can do to please you in every way." Jana stood they're just looking at Angel dumbstruck, unsure what to say. She just thought of what to say next, but nothing came to words. Jana sat on the couch without a word. Angel sat next to her. "I am sorry for being so honest with you. But since I met you yesterday evening, I just can't and won't let my feelings go without knowing." She sighed. She just wished Jana could feel the same about her as she did about Jana. Jana looked at Angel. Her eyes were full of questions. "Why me? Out of all the women in this world, you choose me. I'm nothing compared to anyone else and my best friend Destiny has the life I want and crave for." Angel smiled and hugged Jana. She didn’t try to leave her embrace. Angel counted that as a small win. "That is where you are blind on. Women that are friends or couples can have all that as well. Please, just give me a chance to show you and will go from there." Jana took a deep breath looking down at her hands. She was still deciding if she should accept Angel’s suggestion. "Are you sure about this? I mean we just met, and I am not sure what to think of all this? I wouldn't even know what to tell anyone that knows me?" Angel placed a finger over Jana's lips responding, "We can keep it hidden, do you agree? I just want what is best for you and me, for us. I have never been attracted to a straight woman before, but you took my breath away.
Amber M. Kestner (Jana & Angel Volume 1 (A Girl For Her #1))
1. Modern thinking is a mysterious entity, it is covered in blood and is two meters tall, its smile opens your soul to you and its smile descends to the earth and opens a portal to the dimension of eternal laughter, into a world without values. 2. 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. 3. Under the ordinary eye, the eye of anger. Under the eye of anger, the eye of despondency. Under the eye of despondency, the eye of insight of enlightenment of good and light, selfless nobleness. 4. The face tears up from laughter, and there is not flesh and soul, but a continuous smile of awareness. 5. Love is a sports scoreboard, the score of the one who loves more is kept. 6. Truth is a card. An illusion. You tilt a little, you see one, and you straighten up you see another. 7. Lust is erotic poker cards, poker for stripping the truth. Here you will win only loneliness. 8. Reality is a terrible dystopia of smiling optimism, with wired senses, with laughing monsters in your head, that is, your vices. 9. Wandering around in the midst of twilight darkness, the creative person revealed to the world what was hidden in the egg that lay in this fog, essences and monsters of the subconscious crawled out of it through the force field of imagination and depravity, through the force field they arise in the mind. Some in the imagination become prettier, while others are uglier. Then exhibited in a toy marketing store. 10. Careerism (career) is a children's entertainment, attraction mini-golf of self-motivation and discipline. 11. Loneliness is a catcher of erotic dreams.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Paradice girl Seductive, dainty, too sweet, sweetie, your skin color is the color of the deepest and highest passion and endless sex, endless orgasm, the color of lust, you are so attractively attractive, and they pull your sweet lips to kiss. Every move of your gestures looks it excites and seduces it like a striptease. Your appearance so much in love and excite until the orgasm and eternal marriage. I feel a powerful love affair and sex addiction for you, you are the one that I will love and want forever. You are like sweet, hot, exciting female moans during hot, hot, insatiable sex in the pose of a rider, you are the cause of the eternal hunger of my libido. You are my true eternal love, my debauchery, you are my muse of sex and romance. I feel your powerful sexual energy of passion. You are beautiful in any form, in any outfit. The love for you grows lives and develops and it cannot be controlled and stopped. Love and passion for you is unstoppable. You are so divinely beautiful without clothes as the pristine beauty of nature, you are a heavenly beauty, your adoration is lost from your paradice girl, and only bright emotions and feelings looking at the highest goddess, I bow to your beauty, your beauty is the rarest among all universes, time measurement, paradise where you are. You're the girl whose photo aggressively masturbates a huge number of men, because your figure is more perfect than any top model, your external and internal beauty surpasses any beauty in this universe, your ideal appearance is absolutely envy. You are a powerful attraction excitement. You are hot, passionate, hot, sexy. You are romantic and sexy like a jazz composition of a saxophone, sounding outside the window, the light of a neon sign illuminates yours through a hot, sexy hot, through a hype, a stimulating body.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
It is foolish to be in thrall to fame and fortune, engaged in painful striving all your life with never a moment of peace and tranquillity. Great wealth will drive you to neglect your own well-being in pursuit of it. It is asking for harm and tempting trouble. Though you leave behind at your death a mountain of gold high enough to prop up the North Star itself, it will only cause problems for those who come after you. Nor is there any point in all those pleasures that delight the eyes of fools. Big carriages, fat horses, glittering gold and jewels – any man of sensibility would view such things as gross stupidity. Toss your gold away in the mountains; hurl your jewels into the deep. Only a complete fool is led astray by avarice. Everyone would like to leave their name unburied for posterity – but the high-born and exalted are not necessarily fine people, surely. A dull, stupid person can be born into a good house, attain high status thanks to opportunity and live in the height of luxury, while many wonderfully wise and saintly men choose to remain in lowly positions, and end their days without ever having met with good fortune. A fierce craving for high status and position is next in folly to the lust for fortune. We long to leave a name for our exceptional wisdom and sensibility – but when you really think about it, desire for a good reputation is merely revelling in the praise of others. Neither those who praise us nor those who denigrate will remain in the world for long, and others who hear their opinions will be gone in short order as well. Just who should we feel ashamed before, then? Whose is the recognition we should crave? Fame in fact attracts abuse and slander. No, there is nothing to be gained from leaving a lasting name. The lust for fame is the third folly. Let me now say a few words, however, to those who dedicate themselves to the search for knowledge and the desire for understanding. Knowledge leads to deception; talent and ability only serve to increase earthly desires. Knowledge acquired by listening to others or through study is not true knowledge. So what then should we call knowledge? Right and wrong are simply part of a single continuum. What should we call good? One who is truly wise has no knowledge or virtue, nor honour nor fame. Who then will know of him, and speak of him to others? This is not because he hides his virtue and pretends foolishness – he is beyond all distinctions such as wise and foolish, gain and loss. I have been speaking of what it is to cling to one’s delusions and seek after fame and fortune. All things of this phenomenal world are mere illusion. They are worth neither discussing nor desiring.
Yoshida Kenkō (A Cup of Sake Beneath the Cherry Trees)
Lies flee in the presence of truth. And the Devil turns powerless when our minds turn to our all-powerful God. Here’s where I become quite fascinated. Jesus had access to thousands of scriptures from the Old Testament. He knew them. He could have used any of them. But He chose three specific ones. I’ve decided I want these three to be at the top of my mind. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Empty Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD. (Deuteronomy 8:3) My soul was hand designed to be richly satisfied in deep places by the Word of God. When I go without the nourishment of truth, I will crave filling my spiritual hunger with temporary physical pleasures, thinking they will somehow treat the loneliness inside. These physical pleasures can’t fill me, but they can numb me. Numb souls are never growing souls. They wake up one day feeling so very distant from God and wondering how in the world they got there. Since Satan’s goal is to separate us from the Lord, this is exactly where he wants us to stay. But the minute we turn to His Word is the minute the gap between us and God is closed. He is always near. His Word is full and fully able to reach those deep places inside us desperate for truth. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Deprived “Fear the LORD your God, serve him only and take your oaths in his name” (Deuteronomy 6:13). Another version of this verse says, “Worship Him, your True God, and serve Him.” (THE VOICE) When we worship God, we reverence Him above all else. A great question to ask: Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? What is holding my attention the most is what I’m truly worshipping. Sacred worship is all about God. Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? Secret worship is all about something in this world that seems so attractive on the outside but will devour you on the inside. Pornography, sex outside of marriage, trading your character to claw your way to a position of power, fueling your sense of worth with your child’s successes, and spending outside of your means to constantly dress your life in the next new thing—all things we do to counteract feelings of being left out of and not invited to the good things God has given others—these are just some of the ways lust sneaks in and wreaks havoc. Two words that characterize misplaced worship or lust are secret excess. God says if we will direct our worship to Him, He will give us strength to turn from the mistakes of yesterday and provide portions for our needs of today. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (PSALM 73:25–26) And I Certainly Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Rejected Do not put the LORD your God to the test. (Deuteronomy 6:16)
Lysa TerKeurst (Uninvited: Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely)
I’d known him just ten days, and it had just left his mouth in an unexpected whisper. It had been purely instinctive, it seemed--something entirely unplanned. He clearly hadn’t planned to say those words to me that night; that wasn’t the way he operated. He was a man who had a thought and acted on it immediately, as evidenced by his sweet, whispery phone calls right after our dates. He spent no time at all calculating moves; he had better things to do with his time. When we held each other on that chilly spring night and his feelings had come rushing to the surface, he’d felt no need to slap a filter over his mouth. It had come out in a breath: I love you. It was as if he had to say it, in the same way air has to escape a person’s longs. It was involuntary. Necessary. Natural. But as beautiful and warm a moment as it was, I froze on the spot. Once I realized it had been real--that he’d actually said the words--it seemed too late to respond; the window had closed, the shutters had clapped shut. I responded in the only way my cowardice would allow: by holding him tighter, burying my face deeper into his neck, feeling equal parts stupid and awkward. What is your problem? I asked myself. I was in the midst of what was possibly the most romantic, emotionally charged moment of my life, in the embrace of a man who embodied not only everything I’d ever understood about the textbook definition of lust, but everything I’d ever dreamed about in a man. He was a specimen--tall, strong, masculine, quiet. But it was much more than that. He was honest. Real. And affectionate and accessible, quite unlike J and most of the men I’d casually dated since I’d returned home from Los Angeles months earlier. I was in a foreign land. I didn’t know what to do. I love you. He’d said it. And I knew his words had been sincere. I knew, because I felt it, too, even though I couldn’t say it. Marlboro Man continued to hold me tightly on that patio chair, undeterred by my silence, likely resting easily in the knowledge that at least he’d been able to say what he felt. “I’d better go home,” I whispered, suddenly feeling pulled away by some imaginary force. Marlboro Man nodded, helping me to my feet. Holding hands, we walked around his house to my car, where we stopped for a final hug and a kiss or two. Or eight. “Thanks for having me over,” I managed. Man, I was smooth. “Any time,” he replied, locking his arms around my waist during the final kiss. This was the stuff that dreams were made of. I was glad my eyes were closed, because they were rolled all the way into the back of my head. It wouldn’t have been an attractive sight. He opened the door to my car, and I climbed inside. As I backed out of his driveway, he walked toward his front door and turned around, giving me his characteristic wave in his characteristic Wranglers. Driving away, I felt strange, flushed, tingly. Burdened. Confused. Tortured. Thirty minutes into my drive home, he called. I’d almost grown to need it. “Hey,” he said. His voice. Help me. “Oh, hi,” I replied, pretending to be surprised. Even though I wasn’t. “Hey, I…,” Marlboro Man began. “I really don’t want you to go.” I giggled. How cute. “Well…I’m already halfway home!” I replied, a playful lilt to my voice. A long pause followed. Then, his voice serious, he continued, “That’s not what I’m talking about.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
We kissed again, and I shivered in the cold night air. Wanting to get me out of the cold, he led me to his pickup and opened the door so we could both climb in. The pickup was still warm and toasty, like a campfire was burning in the backseat. I looked at him, giggled like a schoolgirl, and asked, “What have you been doing all this time?” “Oh, I was headed home,” he said, fiddling with my fingers. “But then I just turned around; I couldn’t help it.” His hand found my upper back and pulled me closer. The windows were getting foggy. I felt like I was seventeen. “I’ve got this problem,” he continued, in between kisses. “Yeah?” I asked, playing dumb. My hand rested on his left bicep. My attraction soared to the heavens. He caressed the back of my head, messing up my hair…but I didn’t care; I had other things on my mind. “I’m crazy about you,” he said. By now I was on his lap, right in the front seat of his Diesel Ford F250, making out with him as if I’d just discovered the concept. I had no idea how I’d gotten there--the diesel pickup or his lap. But I was there. And, burying my face in his neck, I quietly repeated his sentiments. “I’m crazy about you, too.” I’d been afflicted with acute boy-craziness for over half my life. But what I was feeling for Marlboro Man was indescribably powerful. It was a primal attraction--the almost uncontrollable urge to wrap my arms and legs around him every time I looked into his eyes. The increased heart rate and respiration every time I heard his voice. The urge to have twelve thousand of his babies…and I wasn’t even sure I wanted children. “So anyway,” he continued. That’s when we heard the loud knocking on the pickup window. I jumped through the roof--it was after 2:00 A.M. Who on earth could it be? The Son of Sam--it had to be! Marlboro Man rolled down the window, and a huge cloud of passion and steam escaped. It wasn’t the Son of Sam. Worse--it was my mother. And she was wearing her heather gray cashmere robe. “Reeee?” she sang. “Is that yoooou?” She leaned closer and peered through the window. I slid off of Marlboro Man’s lap and gave her a halfhearted wave. “Uh…hi, Mom. Yeah. It’s just me.” She laughed. “Oh, okay…whew! I just didn’t know who was out here. I didn’t recognize the car!” She looked at Marlboro Man, whom she’d met only one time before, when he picked me up for a date. “Well, hello again!” she exclaimed, extending her manicured hand. He took her hand and shook it gently. “Hello, ma’am,” he replied, his voice still thick with lust and emotion. I sank in my seat. I was an adult, and had just been caught parking at 2:00 A.M. in the driveway of my parents’ house by my robe-wearing mother. She’d seen the foggy windows. She’d seen me sitting on his lap. I felt like I’d just gotten grounded. “Well, okay, then,” my mom said, turning around. “Good night, you two!” And with that, she flitted back into the house. Marlboro Man and I looked at each other. I hid my face in my hands and shook my head. He chuckled, opened the door, and said, “C’mon…I’d better get you home before curfew.” My sweaty hands still hid my face. He walked me to the door, and we stood on the top step. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed me on the nose and said, “I’m glad I came back.” God, he was sweet. “I’m glad you did, too,” I replied. “But…” I paused for a moment, gathering courage. “Did you have something you wanted to say?” It was forward, yes--gutsy. But I wasn’t going to let this moment pass. I didn’t have many more moments with him, after all; soon I’d be gone to Chicago. Sitting in coffee shops at eleven at night, if I wanted. Working. Eventually going back to school. I’d be danged if I was going to miss what he’d started to say a few minutes earlier, before my mom and her cashmere robe showed up and spoiled everything.
Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels)
White fire of lust The white fire of lust, in a word juicy. Everything burns from your passion. Competitors are burning in your fire. The magic fire of love, you are the only best gift of the universe. The brutal thirst to be yours. It is useless to stop loving, it is useless to stop dreaming and eat up, to love, to think, you dream again and again. Your body is my eternal thirst and wild lust. Your appearance is like hot sex. My sincere love for you is like eternal, continuous, eternal sex. Your appearance is an aesthetic orgasm of the soul of a universal scale. Your skin color is a powerful magnet. The heat of love and attraction through the body. You are my wild passion, my obsession. In a word, it's hot. It seems that you are a very sexual mirage of my sincere fantasies and desires.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
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Thus on all sides we have a triple constriction of the means of communication: the elimination of the less profitable means in favor of the more profitable; the fact that these means are in the hands of the very limited class of wealthy men, and thus naturally express the opinions of that class; and the further fact that, as one of the chief avenues to political and personal power, they attract above all those ambitious for such power. That system which more than all others should contribute to social homeostasis is thrown directly into the hands of those most concerned in the game of power and money, which we have already seen to be one of the chief anti-homeostatic elements in the community. It is no wonder then that the larger communities, subject to this disruptive influence, contain far less communally available information than the smaller communities, to say nothing of the human elements of which all communities are built up. Like the wolf pack, although let us hope to a lesser extent, the State is stupider than most of its components. This runs counter to a tendency much voiced among business executives, heads of great laboratories, and the like, to assume that because the community is larger than the individual it is also more intelligent. Some of this opinion is due to no more than a childish delight in the large and the lavish. Some of it is due to a sense of the possibilities of a large organization for good. Not a little of it, however, is nothing more than an eye for the main chance and a lusting after the fleshpots of Egypt.
Norbert Wiener (Cybernetics: or the Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine)
You can massacre my soul," he offered. I shuddered at his grammatical incomprehension of permission and knew full well I didn't need his to do just that.
Tali Sara (Screaming into Pillows)
Would have attracted him once. . . . Suddenly, like a thing that leaped to him across infinite distances with the speed of light, desire (salt, black, ravenous, unanswerable desire) took him by the throat. The merest hint will convey to those who have felt it the quality of the emotion which now shook him, like a dog shaking a rat; for others, no description perhaps will avail. Many writers speak of it in terms of lust: a description admirably illuminating from within, totally misleading from without. It has nothing to do with the body. But it is in two respects like lust as lust shows itself to be in the deepest and darkest vault of its labyrinthine house. For like lust, it disenchants the whole universe. Everything else that Mark had ever felt—love, ambition, hunger, lust itself—appeared to have been mere milk and water, toys for children, not worth one throb of the nerves. The infinite attraction of this dark thing sucked all other passions into itself: the rest of the world appeared blenched, etiolated, insipid, a world of white marriages and white masses, dishes without salt, gambling for counters. He could not now think of Jane except in terms of appetite: and appetite here made no appeal. That serpent, faced with the true dragon, became a fangless worm. But it was like lust in another respect also. It is idle to point out to the perverted man the horror of his perversion: while the fierce fit is on, that horror is the very spice of his craving. It is ugliness itself that becomes, in the end, the goal of his lechery; beauty has long since grown too weak a stimulant.
C.S. Lewis (That Hideous Strength (The Space Trilogy #3))
He loved her. More than he’d thought it possible to love someone. And it wasn’t a new love born of mere lust and attraction, the sort of infatuated love that skated over the polished surface and was afraid to look too closely at what might lie beneath. No, this was love that had started before he understood what it was. A love that had faced every difficult thing and had endured.
Kelly Bowen (Last Night with the Earl (The Devils of Dover, #2))
We believe that the temptation to lust can feel insurmountable because we conflate it with attraction.
Sheila Wray Gregoire (The Great Sex Rescue: The Lies You've Been Taught and How to Recover What God Intended)
All thought flew from my mind when he pulled the shirt from over his head, revealing the elegant sweep of his back, the hard-packed muscles rippling under smooth skin. Arms, chiseled like a god's, reached down and... "Oh, sweet baby Jesus," I murmured fervently. He pushed his jeans off and bared an ass that was, frankly, spectacular. Those tight globes flexed as he kicked the jeans away with one long leg. Turn away. Get out of here. I shouldn't look. I coveted my privacy, and I was blatantly watching Lucian strip naked. He deserved his privacy too. But I couldn't blink. I couldn't move. He was...glorious. My fingers gripped the railing, holding on tight. The light of the pool gave his skin an unworldly greenish cast. He rolled his shoulders...unf...and then dove in. The water rippled outward in his wake. I actually shivered with lust as I tracked him along the bottom of the pool, a pale arrow of flesh darting through the turquoise glow. Silently, he surfaced on the far side of the pool, then neatly turned to do laps. Perfect form. Long strong arms. Clean, steady strokes. Édith Piaf kept singing as Lucian set a steady but brutal pace. He went at it lap after lap. I grew fairly dizzy with rude thoughts about his stamina. The night was cool, but my flesh was hot. God, that water looked so good. I could practically feel it running over my fevered skin.
Kristen Callihan (Make It Sweet)
Instead, at eighteen, he felt his life was over for what he had done (his first murder), and that he didn’t deserve to be happy or successful. So alcohol, which he had already established as his escape, and he began to go through the motions of life until his dark fantasies took over. He always believed that a turning point in his life happened while in the haze of a lonely, alcoholic, sexless, emotionally bankrupt life. The simple act of an anonymous man at the public library—who tossed Dahmer a note offering to give him a blow job in the bathroom—caused him, at that moment, to decide to abandon the legitimate life he had created and instead pursue sex, and finally achieve love and physical relationships on his terms. He didn’t follow the man, but it seemed to have triggered a crisis of conscience in Dahmer, so deep that he finally admitted to himself that he was and always had been attracted to men, and in turn, that some men were attracted to him. He decided to live a lie no longer, and knew that he “wasn’t fooling anybody.” Further, the incident seemed to reawaken his lustful desire to engage with unconscious or dead bodies—to do whatever he wanted with the corpses of men.
Patrick Kennedy (GRILLING DAHMER: The Interrogation Of "The Milwaukee Cannibal")
David Lurie is so appalled by his degraded state—no longer sexually attractive but still squirming with lust—that he finds himself musing about actual castration, the possibility that one might get a doctor to do it, or even, with the help of a textbook, do it oneself. For would that really be any more disgusting than the antics of a dirty old man? Instead, he forces himself on one of his students, a cannonball dive into disgrace that will be his undoing.
Sigrid Nunez (The Friend)
His body surged at that need to protect. To care for. To love. He wanted to bond him. It had been coming on for days, more than attraction and desire, more than lust. Thorne wanted Kris by his side, in his arms, melded to every cell of his body. All the time. It had only been one week but he knew. His body knew. His dreams knew.
Wendy Rathbone (Trust No Alpha (The Omega Misfits, #1))
believe in and are not going to change on a whim. It's that conviction and ability to make their own decisions and conclusions that I am attracted to. Tattoos are just a physical indication that someone might have those qualities.
Cassandra Cripps (Love, Lust & Little Lies (Love & Lust, #1))
I can't get him out of my mind. I hate him, and I love him. I loathe him, and I lust him. I completely fear him.
Ashley Beale (Fearless Attraction (Cassie, #2))
I believed that Alexander and I were destined to be together. Our attraction had begun with an uncontrollable lust and grown into an all-encompassing, deeply meaningful, wholly necessary bond”.
Juliette Jones (Billionaire: Complete Set (Billionaire, #1-7))
In a spornographic age it’s no longer enough for the male body to be presented to us by consumerism as merely attractive, or desiring to be desired, as it was in the early days of nakedly narcissistic male metrosexuality. This masculine coquettish-ness, pleasing as it is, no longer offers an intense enough image. Or provokes enough lust. It’s just not very shocking or arousing any more. In fact, it’s just too… normal. To get our attention these days the sporting male body has to promise us nothing less than an immaculately groomed, waxed and pumped gang-bang in the showers.
Mark Simpson
When the new heart given to us through Jesus Christ in the New Covenant becomes corrupt, it is because of a stronghold that has been established and the root is bringing forth its corruption, and not because of sin springing up within it intrinsically (Ezekiel 11:19-20; 36:26-27; II Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 4:6; Romans 5:5). Scripturally, I am convinced there is nothing in the regenerate heart of the New Covenant believer that produces sin, for the old man Adamic geyser of corruption was slain with Christ on Calvary (Romans 6:6). The desires of the flesh, however, still live. The flesh has been hopelessly conditioned in Adam and is conducive to the satanic attraction of the world’s system (Ephesians 2:2). It is God’s decree therefore that we collaborate with Him in the mortifying of its affections and lusts (Galatians 5:24; Colossians 3:5; Romans 7:18; 8:13; 13:14).
Paul West (Understanding Mortification: The Pathway to Victory)
will begin to attract real love that’s selfless…not lust, that’s selfish.
Eddie M. Connor Jr. (Heal Your Heart: Discover How To Live, Love, And Heal From Broken Relationships)
Wanting things to be different from what they are is suffering. Attraction and aversion, greed and hatred, lust and ill will: These are the attachments that cause suffering. “I like that; I want more”—“I dislike this; make it stop”: Letting go of these attachments is the end of suffering. Release from this unsatisfactory predicament is the goal of life, whether we are aware of it or not.
Jeff Schmidt (365 Buddha PA: Daily Meditations)
I could tie you down, but then ye’d be no help to Archie. So what’ll it be, lass? Will you obey me or no?” He tried to intimidate her with his posture and size, bracketing her with his bare arms. It didn’t work. Rather, the sight of the succulent, hard mound of his exposed shoulder so close to her face made her wet her lips. His strong collarbones and sinewy neck glistened with sweat, and he smelled of pine and male exertion. Her libido jumped like a feisty poodle. Jeez Louise, Mel, get a grip. This is not a romance novel. He’s not your hero. The box got it wrong. The box was way out of line. “I need it,” she said, pleased her steady voice didn’t betray her attraction. “I have to go with you.” “I told you I’d look for whatever ye lust.” Lust. The antiquated word spoken in his deep voice did strange things to her tummy. It took a solid effort not to lick her lips in invitation as the word called to mind activities that most definitely related to wanting. Home, she reminded herself. She had to get home. “I don’t trust you to look as hard as I would. I’m coming with you.” “Where are your ropes, Archie?” he asked. “The woman refuses to stay put. I have no choice but to tie her to the wagon.” Several of the wounded men snickered. Archie said, “In the foot case there. And bring me some of yon dried moss before ye tie down your woman.” Your woman. The casual declaration made her stomach leap, and the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “She’s not mine,” Darcy growled as he opened the lid of a wooden chest in the wagon. To her horror, he removed a coil of rope. After tossing a yellowish clump in Archie’s direction, he came at her. Her libido disappeared with a poof. She hopped off the wagon, dodging hands that had no business being so quick, considering how large they were. “Don’t you dare tie me down! I’ve got to get that box. It’s my only hope to return home.” He lunged for her, catching her easily around the waist with his long arm, and plunking her back in the wagon. Libido was back. Her body thrilled at Darcy’s manhandling, though her muscles struggled against it. The thought of him tying her up in private might have some merit, but not in the middle of the forest with several strange men as witnesses. “Okay, okay,” she blurted as he looped the rope around one wrist. “I won’t follow you. Please don’t tie me. I’ll stay. I’ll help.” He paused to eye her suspiciously. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll stay here and make myself useful. As long as you promise to look for a rosewood box inlaid with white gold and about yea big.” She gestured with her hands, rope trailing from one wrist. “As long as you swear to look as though your life depends on it.” She held his gaze, hoping he was getting how important this was to her, hoping she could trust him. The circle of wounded men went quiet, waiting for his answer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly impatient to return to the skirmish, but he gave her his full attention and said, “I vow that if your cherished box is on that field, I will find it.
Jessi Gage (Wishing for a Highlander (Highland Wishes Book 1))
Is there not also, perhaps, besides an innate desire for freedom, an instinctive wish for submission? If there is not, how can we account for the attraction which submission to a leader has for so many today? Is submission always to an overt authority, or is there also submission to internalized authorities, such as duty or conscience, to inner compulsions or to anonymous authorities like public opinion? Is there a hidden satisfaction in submitting, and what is its essence? What is it that creates in men an insatiable lust for power?
Erich Fromm (Escape from Freedom)
ACCORDING TO SCIENTISTS, THERE ARE three stages of love: lust, attraction, and attachment. And, it turns out, each of the stages is orchestrated by chemicals—neurotransmitters—in the brain. As you might expect, lust is ruled by testosterone and estrogen. The second stage, attraction, is governed by dopamine and serotonin. When, for example, couples report feeling indescribably happy in each other’s presence, that’s dopamine, the pleasure hormone, doing its work. Taking cocaine fosters the same level of euphoria. In fact, scientists who study both the brains of new lovers and cocaine addicts are hard-pressed to tell the difference. The second chemical of the attraction phase is serotonin. When couples confess that they can’t stop thinking about each other, it’s because their serotonin level has dropped. People in love have the same low serotonin levels as people with OCD. The reason they can’t stop thinking about each other is that they are literally obsessed. Oxytocin and vasopressin control the third stage: attachment or long-term bonding. Oxytocin is released during orgasm and makes you feel closer to the person you’ve had sex with. It’s also released during childbirth and helps bond mother to child. Vasopressin is released postcoitally.
Nicola Yoon (The Sun Is Also a Star)
He moved toward Jedda, his pulse inexplicably growing faster as he neared her. He’d been in the presence of blindingly gorgeous females with unimaginable power in his centuries of life, and none of them had affected him like this. No, this was different, a mix of attraction and anticipation he would almost compare to battle lust.
Larissa Ione (Razr (Demonica Underworld #4; Demonica #15))
The way I see it,” she went on, “our friendship, and our working relationship, were solid foundations we built over time. Now you’re here wanting more, and the way we started that next step was with a kiss. So I feel like we’ve done just about everything two people can do in getting to know each other except…finish that kiss. It seemed to me that the logical next step, the next piece of information we needed to know, was what comes next when we let that kiss go to its natural conclusion.” She did smile then, and her emerald green eyes blazed as she let down a guard he didn’t know she’d still had erected, letting him see for the first time the rest of what she was feeling. “Or at least that was my rationale for finally letting myself have what I fantasized about having, all those months I worked next to you.” He opened his mouth, then shut it again when her words sank in. “I--what did you just say?” Her smile remained, but there was a new light flickering in the depths of her eyes now, one that somehow managed to look bold, excited, and endearingly nervous all at the same time. “You weren’t alone, Cooper, in wanting…what you wanted. At least the physical attraction part anyway. I should have been more forthright about that when you showed up at the pub, or afterward. But at least try to see this from my perspective. Suddenly, out of the blue, the man I lusted after all those months was standing, quite improbably, right in front of me, in his full, Technicolor gorgeousness, looking even better than the guy I was sure I’d exaggerated and romanticized. Right there, in the flesh. And before I could even begin to get a grip on that, you went all going down on bended knee on me, and--it was all so much, too much, to even begin to process.” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Maybe if you’d just dragged me into your arms and not given me a chance to think, I might have surrendered right there on the spot, and the rest of the Cove be damned. But instead you’re all sincere, with your big, beautiful heart hanging on your sleeve, all earnest and lovely, and I so didn’t deserve anything like that, not after the way I left things between me and your entire family. I didn’t have the first clue what to do with that. With you.” Her smile turned decidedly rueful. “So, naturally, I resorted to form. I shut you down, told you to go away. If I couldn’t run away, I was going to make damn sure you did. I mean, it was one thing to leave Cameroo, then insult you and your family by not keeping in touch. It was another thing entirely to do it again, right to your face.” “I hate to interrupt,” he said, trying like hell not to grin, then drag her into his lap to do what he apparently should have done the moment he’d laid eyes on her again. “But I haven’t heard a word you’ve said since that part where you’ve been lusting after me for two years.
Donna Kauffman (Starfish Moon (Brides of Blueberry Cove, #3))
Terror in a woman’s eyes signals that to you?” She gave me a sassy wink. “Tell me more about how you gauge when a woman is attracted to you, caveman. If she throws rocks at your head, does that mean she’s lusting after you?
Alice Ward (The Island)
So why deny ourselves… pleasure?” he whispered. Christina’s internal temperature soared. Her fear of him and her lust for him were fighting each other in her body—and lust, wanting, desire were suddenly winning. His hot words and his magnetic presence were wrapping themselves around her like a boa and squeezing the breath out of her. She was beginning to breathe harder—and faster—and she saw his eyes rivet to her chest as he watched her breasts underneath her blouse rising and falling to the rhythm of her increased breathing rate. “I… I think… you should go,” her voice came out in a breathy whisper. His gaze quickly came up to rest on her beautifully flushed face. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” “It is,” she breathed a sigh of relief at having him finally agree. “I’ll go then, but first let me at least give you this? I bought it just for you.” He held the diamond necklace out to her again. “Please?” Christina had been prepared to tell him ‘no’, but the soft, gentle way he had said the word ‘please’ did her in. He sounded like a little boy who had spent all day at school drawing a picture for the girl he liked and then she had rejected him and his gift. Okay—so she’d let him give her the necklace and then he’d leave. What harm was there in that? Bill took a few steps forward and Christina remained rooted to the spot. Slowly, he continued to approach her—as if she were a skittish colt who would bolt if he made any sudden moves. He reached her then—and stopped a foot away. Leisurely, he lifted the necklace and unclasped its opening. His slow, deliberate movements were mesmerizing Christina. Whether it was her fatigue at being up all night or her strong physical attraction to him or her love for him she didn’t know, but she was falling under his spell. Christina let her hands drop from her blouse, causing it to fall open and revealing her lacy pink bra. She then lifted her hair up off her neck and turned her back to him. She didn’t see him bridge the last few inches between them but she felt him. She saw his powerful arms come around from behind her and felt the weight of the cold, heavy necklace as he placed it around her neck. He snapped the clasp and from behind, he lowered his lips to her ears. “You look beautiful, my little spitfire,” he whispered and his breath erotically fanned the delicate insides of her ear. Christina briefly closed her eyes as she felt an intense longing for him shoot through her body. God—she wanted him so badly—and her lack of sleep had removed all her inhibitions, excuses, defenses and rationale against making love to him. Why hadn’t she wanted to make love with him before? She
Anna Mara (Her Perfect Revenge)
Much like all other paraphilias, fetishes can be situated on the mild-to-severe continuum. An example of this range is depicted in the following scenario of four men, all having a fetish for women with long hair. The first man might have a mild fetish for women with long hair simply because he has always perceived the longer length to be more sexually appealing. The second man, functioning in the mild-to-moderate range, might whistle at and call out to an otherwise unattractive female with long hair yet remain silent when an extremely attractive woman with short hair walks past him. The third man, operating in the moderate-to-severe end of the continuum, might be unable to achieve an erection during intercourse unless he wears a long-haired wig or his partner has long hair. The fourth man might be able to attain an orgasm simply by looking at or touching the desired object. This behavior demonstrates that the individual functions at the severe pathological end of the paraphilic spectrum. The absence of deploying such fetishes in the extremely paraphilic-prone individual can cause erectile dysfunction (APA, 2000).
Catherine Purcell (The Psychology of Lust Murder: Paraphilia, Sexual Killing, and Serial Homicide)
Darcy picked her up again, this time not as gently as he had when she’d tripped on the root. He carried her under one arm like a sack of grain, though to his credit, he avoided putting pressure on her lower abdomen. “I said no, ye contrary thing, and I’m big enough to make you obey whether ye want to or no’.” He crashed through the line of trees, stomped past the wounded men, and set her firmly in the wagon. “A skirmish is no place for a woman. I willna be responsible for you getting raped or killed.” That vulnerable look softened his hard features for a second. “I could tie you down, but then ye’d be no help to Archie. So what’ll it be, lass? Will you obey me or no?” He tried to intimidate her with his posture and size, bracketing her with his bare arms. It didn’t work. Rather, the sight of the succulent, hard mound of his exposed shoulder so close to her face made her wet her lips. His strong collarbones and sinewy neck glistened with sweat, and he smelled of pine and male exertion. Her libido jumped like a feisty poodle. Jeez Louise, Mel, get a grip. This is not a romance novel. He’s not your hero. The box got it wrong. The box was way out of line. “I need it,” she said, pleased her steady voice didn’t betray her attraction. “I have to go with you.” “I told you I’d look for whatever ye lust.” Lust. The antiquated word spoken in his deep voice did strange things to her tummy. It took a solid effort not to lick her lips in invitation as the word called to mind activities that most definitely related to wanting. Home, she reminded herself. She had to get home. “I don’t trust you to look as hard as I would. I’m coming with you.” “Where are your ropes, Archie?” he asked. “The woman refuses to stay put. I have no choice but to tie her to the wagon.” Several of the wounded men snickered. Archie said, “In the foot case there. And bring me some of yon dried moss before ye tie down your woman.” Your woman. The casual declaration made her stomach leap, and the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “She’s not mine,” Darcy growled as he opened the lid of a wooden chest in the wagon. To her horror, he removed a coil of rope. After tossing a yellowish clump in Archie’s direction, he came at her. Her libido disappeared with a poof. She hopped off the wagon, dodging hands that had no business being so quick, considering how large they were. “Don’t you dare tie me down! I’ve got to get that box. It’s my only hope to return home.” He lunged for her, catching her easily around the waist with his long arm, and plunking her back in the wagon. Libido was back. Her body thrilled at Darcy’s manhandling, though her muscles struggled against it. The thought of him tying her up in private might have some merit, but not in the middle of the forest with several strange men as witnesses. “Okay, okay,” she blurted as he looped the rope around one wrist. “I won’t follow you. Please don’t tie me. I’ll stay. I’ll help.” He paused to eye her suspiciously. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll stay here and make myself useful. As long as you promise to look for a rosewood box inlaid with white gold and about yea big.” She gestured with her hands, rope trailing from one wrist. “As long as you swear to look as though your life depends on it.” She held his gaze, hoping he was getting how important this was to her, hoping she could trust him. The circle of wounded men went quiet, waiting for his answer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly impatient to return to the skirmish, but he gave her his full attention and said, “I vow that if your cherished box is on that field, I will find it.
Jessi Gage (Wishing for a Highlander (Highland Wishes Book 1))
Notice that we said pheromones are going to make a woman feel an attraction to you, not tear off her clothes in a fit of uncontrollable lust that makes her want to climb you like a tree. No
John M. Gottman (The Man's Guide to Women: Scientifically Proven Secrets from the "Love Lab" About What Women Really Want)
I don’t understand your reference. Are you trying to say you find my brother and me attractive?” “Very much so.” Kat ducked her head, having a hard time looking him in the eye. “But you already knew that.” “I knew that your body reacted to ours,” he said softly. “But physical attraction doesn’t always equate with compatibility.” “Exactly.” Kat took a deep breath. “Which is why I still don’t know why you took that beating for me. Did you do it out of a sense of duty? Or just because you wanted me—felt lust for me? Or was there another reason?” she said, before he could answer. “A deeper reason?” “Come here.” He reached for her and Kat went willingly into his arms. He was so tall that, even though he was still sitting and she was standing, they were pretty much eye-to-eye. “You have to understand,” he said hoarsely. “You’re so beautiful…so high above me. What good does it do a male to love a goddess? I might as well love the sun or the stars or anything else that’s forever out of reach.” “I’m not completely out of reach,” she said quietly. “I’m just frightened. Feeling your emotions all the time—that’s pretty overwhelming. And you…you can be pretty scary sometimes.” She lifted her chin. “Not that I’m afraid of you.” He studied her for a long moment. “Maybe I’m afraid of you—did you think about that?” “Why?” Kat frowned. “You’re a hundred times stronger than me. You could probably break me in half with your pinky finger.” “It isn’t physical pain that frightens me,” he said hoarsely. “That’s nothing. It’s—” At
Evangeline Anderson (Sought (Brides of the Kindred, #3))
Love is a feeling that must be felt from the heart and seen through inner beauty. Only if this was known to the youth, many a marriages would have blossomed with age and cherished through decades. Just like a plant that needs the sun, water and more time to grow into a beautiful tree with lovely leaves and flowers, love needs time to be nurtured over time, built on a strong foundation of friendship, trust and honesty. When this foundation is built and combined with the feeling that tickles you from within, that is when love actually happens, the rest is all infatuation, attraction or even lust.
Jagdish Joghee (The Colour of Love: Trumpets and bugles, there was music all over...)
Sweet candy You are my life meaning, only you are forever beautiful in my eyes, you are like the utopian harmony of the universe, being your husband is like going to heaven. When nature created you, she was idealized, poetic, exaggeratedly embellished even the smallest details of your beautiful body. Your skin is a masterpiece of painting, the voice is a masterpiece of music, the shape of a body is a masterpiece of sculpture, the eyes and character are the masterpiece of a romantic movie. Oh baby, you're just a piquant sweetheart, you too much juicy and hot, savory relish, aesthetic nude, nu erotica, pin up, you have the perfect body, brought to absolute perfection. You are my powerful pull, the limit of my dreams, my most sexy, desirable dream. I would insatiably lick, kiss and caress like ice cream all day long, my skin glows like a juicy cream, give a body massage with my kisses and thank fate for every second I spent with you. I feel for you a powerful attraction and attraction for 1000% of you I can think and dream day and night to fly. When I see you nothing but true love I do not feel, you can look at you forever, you are my heaven on earth, my whole mind is focused only on you. Your sweet body shapes, powerful lures, my sweet sweetie. Each microparticle, atom, molecule of your body, a brilliant masterpiece of the universe, time, nature, is brilliantly beautiful, as detailed as possible, everything decorates you literally everything. The highest form of beauty in its true form. A majestic ideal, a completed masterpiece. You have a special energy of charisma and charm. The skin is like thousands of rose petals, kisses burn the soul with the heat of lust, you are the warm light of tenderness illuminating my soul, so the rich shades of your juicy skin shimmer so picturesquely.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
It’s called a bath.” She makes a point of leaning forward and sniffing at my shirt. “Ever heard of it?” I know from running here I must stink, but that’s not disgust on her pretty features. She’s trying to convince herself she’s not attracted to me and it’s cute as hell. I scratch at my chin, then, in a low tone, say, “Nope, can you explain it?” “Soap, water, look it up.” She tries to move around me, but I sway my body to mimic her movements just for sport. “Isn’t that where you’re all naked and lathering up that creamy skin with bubbles?” Relishing the tint to her cheeks, I brush past her, letting her move into the office, and call over my shoulder, “Thanks for the visuals, by the way, the towel over the weekend, I’ll be thinking about it all day.” I reel her in and watch her blow. “You make me gag,” she says, then catches her words. Her shoulders deflate, and a grin tugs high on my lips. “Yep, sure would, sweetheart.” The door slams shut, and a real chuckle resonates from my gut.
Ker Dukey (Lust (The Elite Seven, #1))
A third assumption: a commitment to monogamy is an admirable consequence of love, stemming from a deep-seated generosity and an intimate interest in the other’s flourishing and well-being. A call for monogamy is a sure indication that one partner has the other’s best interests at heart. To Rabih’s new way of thinking, it seems anything but kind or considerate to insist that a spouse return to his room alone to watch CNN and eat yet another club sandwich while perched on the edge of his bed, when he has perhaps only a few more decades of life left on the planet, an increasingly dishevelled physique, an at best intermittent track record with the opposite sex, and a young woman from California standing before him who sincerely wishes to remove her dress in his honour. If love is to be defined as a genuine concern for the well-being of another person, then it must surely be deemed compatible with granting permission for an often harassed and rather browbeaten husband to step off the elevator on the eighteenth floor, in order to enjoy ten minutes of rejuvenating cunnilingus with a near-stranger. Otherwise it may seem that what we are dealing with is not really love at all but rather a kind of small-minded and hypocritical possessiveness, a desire to make one’s partner happy if, but only if, that happiness involves oneself. It’s past midnight already, yet Rabih is just hitting his stride, knowing there might be objections but sidestepping them nimbly and, in the process, acquiring an ever more brittle sense of self-righteousness. A fourth assumption: monogamy is the natural state of love. A sane person can only ever want to love one other person. Monogamy is the bellwether of emotional health. Is there not, wonders Rabih, an infantile idealism in our wish to find everything in one other being – someone who will be simultaneously a best friend, a lover, a co-parent, a co-chauffeur and a business partner? What a recipe for disappointment and resentment in this notion, upon which millions of otherwise perfectly good marriages regularly founder. What could be more natural than to feel an occasional desire for another person? How can anyone be expected to grow up in hedonistic, liberated circles, experience the sweat and excitement of nightclubs and summer parks, listen to music full of longing and lust and then, immediately upon signing a piece of paper, renounce all outside sexual interest, not in the name of any particular god or higher commandment but merely from an unexplored supposition that it must be very wrong? Is there not instead something inhuman, indeed ‘wrong’, in failing to be tempted, in failing to realize just how short of time we all are and therefore with what urgent curiosity we should want to explore the unique fleshly individuality of more than one of our contemporaries? To moralize against adultery is to deny the legitimacy of a range of sensory high points – Rabih thinks of Lauren’s shoulder blades – in their own way just as worthy of reverence as more acceptable attractions such as the last moments of ‘Hey Jude’ or the ceilings of the Alhambra Palace. Isn’t the rejection of adulterous possibilities tantamount to an infidelity towards the richness of life itself? To turn the equation on its head: would it be rational to trust anyone who wasn’t, under certain circumstances, really pretty interested in being unfaithful?
Alain de Botton (The Course of Love)
Let me tell you what real love is. It does not see faces; real love attracts the heart. It keeps the mind, body and soul intact. Many people confuse love and lust all the time; those two are not the same. Real love does not hurt and if it does hurt, it does not hurt repeatedly. Real love is confident and it does not have to be questioned. Real love is something that everyone should get the chance to experience at least for one season in his or her lifetime. It is not fair if you do not.
Nako (The Connect's Wife)
By the time the guitar solo erupted into being, Dakota had her eyes closed, her hips swaying like the breeze and Eddie lost inside a bubble with her. There was something about her all right, and it wasn't the cocktails telling him that, either.
Philip Elliott (Nobody Move (Angel City #1))
I needed a connection over anything else because, if I connected with a guy, attraction followed. Sure, I’d seen guys I’d been in lust with, who I thought were hot as hell as soon as I saw them. But if I couldn’t talk to them, hold a conversation, and chat with them, my heart wasn’t in it.
N.R. Walker (Finders Keepers)
I don’t know about this,” I whisper, pressing up against one of the cups, “it feels so wrong.”          “It’s so right, though,” he tells me.          Suddenly, my homosexual attraction is just too much to bear. Overwhelmed with lust, I drop down to my knees between them and gaze up with an erotic fire in my eyes.          “Come on,” I beg, “I want you guys to show me what the holiday spirit is all about!
Chuck Tingle (Oppressed In The Butt By My Inclusive Holiday Coffee Cups)
When you rely on following the physical attraction of someone more than following your heart, you are lust”.
Abdulazeez Henry Musa
The Bible says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Proverbs 4:23 NIV). Don’t let your heart put money or your work above your spouse and family. Don’t let your heart lust after the attractiveness of another man or woman (Proverbs 6:25). The Bible says, “If riches increase, do not set your heart on them” (Psalm 62:10 NKJV).
Alex Kendrick (The Love Dare)
He could not have got through the Sierra Nevada if she had not been sending him men and digging teams to level the road for him. No one else could have driven a road through there. He would have trusted no one else to support him, to hold the kingdom together as he pushed forwards. She could have conquered the mountains for no one else; he was the only one that could have attracted her support. What looked like a remarkable unity of two calculating players was deceptive—it was their passion which they played out on the political stage. She was a great queen because that was how she could evoke his desire. He was a great general in order to match her. It was their love, their lust, which drove them; almost as much as God.
Philippa Gregory (The Constant Princess)
Making ourselves feel solid, permanent, separate, continuous and defined – by constantly scanning the phenomenal horizon for reference points which substantiate these criteria – is a convoluted process. The phenomena of our perception will only serve us temporarily in this capacity. So if we take this course, we sentence ourselves to the continuous activity of establishing and replacing reference points. When we engage in this process, we convert our perceptual circumstances into a prison. In fact, our perceptual circumstances not only become an incarceration, but a very subtle personal torture chamber. We need to be continually on the look-out for new reference points. We need to reassess old reference points. We need to imbue ourselves with a certain pervasive nervousness. We need to foster a sense of unease about the whole process of experiencing existence. It could become unrelenting hard work in our own personal forced labour camp. In our attempts to establish reference points we react to the phenomena of our perception in three ways. We are either attracted, we are averse or we are indifferent. Attraction, aversion and indifference are usually referred to, in the translations of Buddhist texts, as lust (desire or attachment); hatred (anger or aggression); and ignorance. Although these words have a distinct application to the three distorted tendencies (usually referred to as ‘the Three Poisons’), they have connotations in English that lend them the tone of ‘the Seven Deadly Sins’. If we encounter anything that seems to substantiate our fictions of solidity, permanence, separateness, continuity, and definition – we are attracted, we reach out for it. If we encounter anything that threatens these fictions – we are averse, we push it away. If we encounter anything that neither substantiates nor threatens these fictions – we are indifferent. What we cannot manipulate, we ignore. But what is left of our responses if these three fictions dissolve? The question of what our experience would be like without attraction, aversion, and indifference poses an interesting challenge to our rationale. In fact, we cannot approach this question at all, if we approach it through conventional reasoning. Fundamentally this question deals with the nature of experience itself. If attraction, aversion, and indifference dissolve, what remains is not any ‘kind of experience’; it is simply experience – experience as such. In terms of experience as such; we are completely present, open, and free in the experience of whatever arises as a perception. Dechen, Khandro; Chogyam, Ngakpa (2014-01-14). Spectrum of Ecstasy: Embracing the Five Wisdom Emotions of Vajrayana Buddhism (p. 45). Shambhala Publications. Kindle Edition.
Dechen, Khandro; Chogyam, Ngakpa
So it is in our HEART, not in our sexualness, that we human beings think and decide how to live - even if the decision is to indulge in venery of whatever sort. A man sees the complementarity of woman and man not through the eyes of lust but in his heart. Jacob's lust for Rachel distracted him from perceiving the virtue of Leah, a virtue to complement or complete his. It's in his heart, not through the lust of his eyes, that a man sees or learns to see the complementation of woman and man. If a man is 'homosexual' or has little lust toward attractive women, this is no obstacle to his perceiving woman as his complement or helper.
Jonathan Mills (Love, Covenant & Meaning)
But it is strange and I think quite wrong that conservative Protestantism, which used to repudiate the tradition of celibacy, is now assuming that celibacy is the right way of life for a large number of men as a matter of course simply because they aren't 'heterosexual' - that is, because they lack the commitment-phobic lust that prompts other men towards all attractive women regardless of marriage covenants. Similarly, Roman Catholic authority, which used to teach that a special grace was required for a life of celibacy, now teaches that celibacy is the right way of life for such men as a matter of course, as though they were incapable of giving and receiving the love and friendship that many women seek from marriage far more than anything else
Jonathan Mills (Love, Covenant & Meaning)
Besides, I did love Luke—I did. But he wasn't the only one I wanted, and wanting isn't the same as loving. Just as I knew I loved Luke, I wasn't sure whether I loved Adair. I couldn't rule out that my attraction to him wasn't an advanced case of lust, though that's not to say it was inconsequential. Only a fool would underestimate the power of lust. Kingdoms have been won and lost, men and beasts have battled to the death over it.
Alma Katsu (The Descent (The Taker, #3))
From what I've heard, others can recall the exact time in their lives when they lost their virginity. Not so with Catholics. Ours was wrapped beneath layers of guilt. Cautiously, slowly, and hoping that God was too busy with other things to notice, our logic and lust would unravel quilts of Sunday morning sermons, catechism lessons, confessional admonitions, and parental warnings. Such apprehensive behavior would often overflow into other activities. A devout Catholic would never completely open his Christmas gifts until August. Catholics also did very well on bomb squads. By the time we got through all the wrappings, we would often discover that our virginity had simply melted away. Ask a non-Catholic when they lost their virginity and they recall a specific moment. Ask a Catholic the same question and they begin counting the years on their fingers. Sitting in the library trying to figure out mathematical equations for a statistics course. I looked up from my pad of scribblings to see Denise Meyers, a girl I vaguely knew from around school, straining to reach a book that was on one of the higher shelves. She was wearing a short skirt. Discovering a new mathematical equation: Arousal equals the distance of the short skirt above the knees times the shapeliness of the legs. Denise Meyers was a reasonably attractive girl but, under the gaze of someone being affected by "library lunacy," she looked incredibly provocative. "Library lunacy" was a state of mind reached by sitting in the library and concentrating on material so boring that, after a few minutes, even the seventy-year-old librarian begins looking good. One sure indication that your mind was slipping
John R. Powers (The Unoriginal Sinner and the Ice-Cream God (Loyola Classics))
That padam avyayam or eternal kingdom can be reached by one who is nirmāna-moha. What does this mean? We are after designations. Someone wants to become a son, someone wants to become Lord, someone wants to become the president or a rich man or a king or something else. As long as we are attached to these designations, we are attached to the body because designations belong to the body. But we are not these bodies, and realizing this is the first stage in spiritual realization. We are associated with the three modes of material nature, but we must become detached through devotional service to the Lord. If we are not attached to devotional service to the Lord, then we cannot become detached from the modes of material nature. Designations and attachments are due to our lust and desire, our wanting to lord it over the material nature. As long as we do not give up this propensity of lording it over material nature, there is no possibility of returning to the kingdom of the Supreme, the sanātana-dhāma. That eternal kingdom, which is never destroyed, can be approached by one who is not bewildered by the attractions of false material enjoyments, who is situated in the service of the Supreme Lord. One so situated can easily approach that supreme abode.
Anonymous
You won’t find this name in the Bible, but Satan is the original SweetTart distributor. Do you remember eating those candies when you were young? They are sweet on the outside and sour when you bite into them. The enemy will come with something that is good on the outside – like a legitimate, strong desire for food, sex, or achievement - offer it to you in the wrong way at the wrong time. He’ll get you to believe that his counterfeit pleasure is the only way to satisfy your emotional needs. He’ll offer sex to you from a video screen or in a perverted way, moving you away from what is good, true, loving, and wonderful, and twisting it into something that is evil and destructive in the end. It will always look and taste attractive – that is, until you bite into it. But the problem is that the sour part may not come for weeks, months, or even years. You can spend decades enjoying the sugary coating of sin, only to find out too late that when the sweetness is gone, there’s nothing left but a sour taste.
Chip Ingram (The Invisible War: What Every Believer Needs to Know about Satan, Demons, and Spiritual Warfare)
Don’t let your heart put money or your work above your spouse and family. Don’t let your heart lust after the attractiveness of another man or woman (Proverbs 6:25). The
Alex Kendrick (The Love Dare)
Standing / apart from them one wonders / what on earth is a straight woman. / 'The only love I have ever felt / was for children and other women. / Everything else was just lust, pity, self-hatred, / pity, and lust.
Maggie Nelson (The Latest Winter)
Dark, light brown and pure black skin is the most beautiful, alluring, tasty, spectacular, sexy, seductive, sweet, juicy gusto, sultry, attractive, appetizing, erotic and attractive colors in the world - the color of true love and hot, passionate, wild sex, dark and dark skin colors are the most natural, sensual, bodily, delicate shades in the world, which are so pleasing to the eyes, creating a soothing, relaxing, alluring, enamoring, exciting and bewitching effect with its amazing beauty, I awaken animal, love, lustful passion. Like Viagra, like an aphrodisiac.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Sorry if this text have any mistakes, i had some problems with translation, i just study english language. My new hot love poem for all black girls and mullato girls (light brown girls) Me pulls to you ..... so strongly attracted to you color of your skin so sexy, erotic, and very attractive and beautiful In my opinion you are the most beautiful in the all universe space, measurement, worlds My compliments, the truth, and no there is no flattery. In my opinion, this is how looks the most beautiful girl in the world. You are a very beautiful girl. You're a very sexy girl. You are perfect. You are a masterpiece. You phenomenon of beauty that can not be repeated. So juicy, so exotic. It seems to me that you have an amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe all the dimensions of all worlds, you are a supreme being supreme creation, the crown of evolution. You're beautiful melody of love. You are so beautiful, just magic. You to the point attractive sexy. What you want to do countless times having sex. I only dream if only one your kisses that blossom my soul. And from the touch of your hands on my body, and your lustful-touch for my private parts. I only dream to merge with you forever, body and soul, I only dream of an eternal, continuous sex only with you alone. I only know one thing, that I will forever love only you Only at your most beautiful, stripped the body, you want to watch and view forever. Every cell and molecule of my body and my soul is overwhelmed with love only for you. I long to be your beloved husband for all eternity and all lives, and even after death Do you desire, you are perfect. Soup-navel sexy genius. Do you like the sound of "the sound of a roaring engine sexual smart cars": VUM) VUM) vuuuuuuuuoooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmm) You paradise, you're mens happinesse. Easy, clean, gentle, heavenly delight. You dream of a lifetime. You're pretty unrealistic. On even to the extent to which she can be beautiful, it's just unbelievable. You are the best gift of fate. Before your powerful sexual charm simply irresistible. You're the most beautiful girl in the whole universe. It's a great, great. You luxurious gem. This delicate pearl skin, you sample the true human beauty and femininity. All the other girls compared to you quite simply uy) uy) uy) uy) uy), believe me you are very vip sexy girl. Most also come up on the throne of honor honored the goddess, the great pedestal. Majestic music sounds, so subtly and sensitively praising your beauty for you. In your arms a man feels in the higher realms of pleasure. Sexy regal lioness. Graceful affectionately snarling tigress. Puff) bang) bang) bang) bang) mega glue your beauty kills all competitors by felling. Amazingly beautiful. Sultry, cool and sexy-Mego. You are elite, you're a lux, you extra class Your beauty captivates the hearts of men. The queen of all men, divinely beautiful, majestic lady. Sexy kitten. Mens cumming myself in the pants, with excitement at the sight of you. My heart you certainly won. Imagine that you are on the sandy planet, and every speck of gold pure gold, these grains of sand, the golden thoughts about you and only about you. You stunned, and I from you noodle. You just incredible girl, unbelievable. You're a sex symbol. You is Brand, (dreaming about you) cool, greattbl, superebl. You're like a beautiful peacock, revealing to the people the infinite perfection of their external and internal beauty. Words gently kiss and hug. The outline playful. Queen of ardent passion, so a bit awe velvet body. You idol of femininity and nature ... anywhere in the world to find such a beautiful sight as yours, which is just crazy, captivating with their enchantments of love, and you can not escape from the past and it is impossible to pass, look pierces the tenderness of their feelings. you thermonuclear sex bomb you lux extra class. Your passionate gaze iceberg melt. A look of love, perfect beauty.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Anything you want from a woman—attraction, lust, fascination—is just an internal process that she runs through her body and her brain,” he explained as he drove. “And all you need to evoke that process are questions that make her go into her body and brain and actually experience it in order to answer you. Then she will link those feelings of attraction to you.
Neil Strauss (The Game)
opportunity for the inner darkness to reveal itself. The lust for blood, rape and destruction is very much part of power’s attraction. It is not only that men desire power so that they will no longer suffer. It is not only that they desire power so that they can overcome subjugation to want, disease and death. Power also means the capacity to take vengeance, ensure submission, and crush enemies.
Jordan B. Peterson (12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos)
She hung her head, afraid of the people they met. He looked sideways at her as they walked. There was a wonderful close down on her face near the ear that he wanted to touch. And a certain heaviness, the heaviness of a very full ear of corn that dips slightly in the wind, that there was about her, made his brain spin. He seemed to be spinning down the street, everything going round. As they sat in the tramcar, she leaned her heavy shoulder against him, and he took her hand. He felt himself coming round from the anaesthetic, beginning to breathe. Her ear, half-hidden among her blonde hair, was near to him. The temptation to kiss it was almost too great. But there were other people on top of the car. It still remained to him to kiss it. After all, he was not himself, he was some attribute of hers, like the sunshine that fell on her.
D.H. Lawrence (Sons and Lovers)
We’re more comfortable together, more in sync than we have been. What started out as a chemical thing–a lustful attraction–has given way to more, despite my best efforts.
Kendall Ryan (Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair, #2))
It was very childish humor, but one of the surest ways to recognize lovers was how easily they laughed at each other’s jokes. What he felt for Madlenka Bukovany went far beyond mere attraction. It was more than lust or admiration or friendship. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was an all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime passion. Nothing else in the world mattered. He would do anything to win her or please her, and he was certain that she felt the same about him. Neither had mentioned it. They did not need to, and must not. It was a forbidden, impossible match, and perhaps that was the very reason the madness had come upon them so quickly.
Dave Duncan (Speak to the Devil (The Brothers Magnus, #1))
Thea had never been attracted to people in that sense. There was a time in middle school when she’d wondered if something was wrong with her, if part of her heart was faulty for not lusting after this person or that, for failing to crush on someone from afar like her peers.
Erin Bowman (Immunity (Contagion, #2))
Lust can happen by accident or without our input; we can see a hot guy or gal and feel an instant attraction but that is an illusion.
Zachariah Renfro
Pulchritude is possibly the most vile standard ever set by the society to judge people. Nobody cares what's inside. Beauty depends on your complexion & the curves in your body. People are so invested in enhancing their looks that they forget to nurture the true beauty that lies under the skin. Physical beauty is temporary and paves the way for attracting short-lived attention mostly from those who worship lust. You'll never be conscious of your fugacious youth until the day you discover yourself loosing all the features you need to satisfy that evil standard. That day, you'll realize that the real "beautiful you" has always been deep inside. You'll finally be able to discern the difference between physical beauty and true beauty.
Rafsan Al Musawver
He placed the long, gold chain over her head. Then he held the turquoise between his fingers. "This is where it belongs. With you, Always." With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It wasn't just a thank-you for finding her treasured memento, but something deeper, more heartfelt, and he realized this wasn't a thank-you at all. He felt the same wolfish need, the same lustful attraction and, he was fairly certain, the same desire to take this further. He was torn between ending the kiss and wanting to prolong it, while she wrapped one leg around his, anchoring herself to him, her body moving against his in the gently ripples of the lake, up and down. Despite the wet suit and her bathing suit between them, he felt his erection rising to the occasion again. Of course, all he really needed was to see her in that bathing suit, her nipples standing out against the stretchy suite, to make his cock stir. With her body moving against his in such an erotic way, he was suffering. Their tongues were doing a slow slide together, back and around, as he kept one hand against her naked back and the other cupping her head for maximum kissing pleasure. The sun shone off the water, the heat of their bodies keeping them warm. He sure loved kissing her like this and felt like one hot SEAL wolf wrapped around a wolfish mermaid.
Terry Spear (SEAL Wolf Hunting (Heart of the Wolf, #16))
They could not be more different. Enoch received visions from the gods. He sought to raise his son with the same sense of piety and obedience. Unfortunately, Methuselah was too lustful for life and this earth. Enoch loved prayer, Methuselah loved reading cuneiform. Enoch barely noticed women, Methuselah burned with desire for every attractive woman he saw. Enoch loved the holy liturgy of worship, Methuselah loved a feast of food and good drink. Enoch spent hours of silence in the temple shrine, Methuselah spent hours worshipping the beauty of creation (and especially the gods’ most beautiful creation, the female body). Enoch was a holy man of heaven, Methuselah felt he was a profane man of earth.
Brian Godawa (Enoch Primordial (Chronicles of the Nephilim #2))
Although most of the women I interviewed felt that their sexual attractions paralleled their emotional attachments, this was not always the case. In fact, women reported that on average, the percentage of physical same-sex attractions they experienced differed from their emotional same-sex attractions by about 15 percentage points in either direction (in other words, some women were more emotionally than physically drawn to women, whereas others were more physically than emotionally drawn). A small number of women reported discrepancies of up to 40 percentage points. Like women with nonexclusive attractions, women with significant gaps between their emotional and physical feelings often faced challenges in selecting a comfortable identity label. They had to decide whether their sexual identity was better categorized by patterns of “love” or patterns of “lust,” and they had to forecast what sort of relationships they might desire in the future. Many of these women found it difficult to make these determinations. Sue, for example, felt that her attractions were riddled with contradictions: “I prefer to make out with men, but the idea of having sex with a man utterly repulses me. I would, however, like to marry a woman, and that’s who I want to make a long-term commitment to.
Lisa Diamond (Sexual Fluidity: Understanding Women's Love and Desire)
I’m a healthy gay man and I have eyes, but I was never really attracted to him. I couldn’t see him as anything but Gabriel’s brother. When you already love someone, it’s easy to control trivial lusts.” Zach
Alessandra Hazard (Just a Bit Wrong (Straight Guys #4))
I leaned up to kiss him. He inhaled sharply, freezing, but his lips parted just enough for my affection to warp into the sharp ache of lust. My gut tightened, dick hardening, and I pushed my lips against his with more force but didn’t slide my tongue into his mouth. Once I did, there would be no going back. I’d fall face-first into the abyss of my long-suppressed attraction, and I’d fuck him right here on this goddamn obstacle course. Or
Santino Hassell (Concourse (Five Boroughs, #5))
It wasn’t as simple as attraction, not even close. Attraction boiled down to looking and liking, and I knew all about that. Looking and liking had been my preferred mode of operation for years, and it had never once grabbed me by the gut and said Don’t let that woman go. Lust wasn’t the culprit either. It was something else, something that resided past the bounds of language and fully in the land of intuition.
Kate Canterbary (The Spire (The Walshes, #6))
Andy sat watching as if witnessing an X-rated movie. My protector made sure His Highness abided by E.R.O.S. guidelines, although no affirmative verbal exchanges were necessary. My Valet laid siege as the unobtrusive silent observer. He was getting aroused by the unfolding visuals of his irresolute charge under the caressing hands of this masterful male. I was deliriously excited by this attractive rogue who was now my magnetic inamorato. My enjoyment, combined with P’s sensual expertise, sent me lusting for him. I was ready for his hardness and ready to subjugate myself to his athletic sexual desires. Like a devouring spider luring his prey, P was slowly enticing me into his imperative world of risqué decadence.
Young (Unbridled (A Harem Boy's Saga, #2))
How does it feel living life every day with such attractive faces in a place where women are forced to take responsibility even for the worst outcomes that spring from other people’s lusts?
Laksmi Pamuntjak (The Birdwoman's Palate)
Rude wasn’t so much a heel who happened to be attractive as he was a 100 percent pure concentrate of machismo and self-absorption, a Lothario for his own sake. He could have any woman he wanted, but his objective was never love or even lust; it was heterosexual avidity purely for show. And he seemed not so much to objectify women as to coolly demean them. The object of his affection was solely himself. It was hardcore pornography minus the sex.*
Anonymous
Had Putin allowed Medvedev to run for reelection as president in 2012, the prospects for the Russian people and for the U.S.-Russian relationship would be far brighter. I felt that Medvedev understood Russia’s deep internal problems—economic, demographic, and political, as well as the absence of the rule of law, among others—and had realistic ideas about how to deal with them, including the need to more closely align Russia with the West and to attract foreign investment. However, Putin’s lust for power led him to shoulder Medvedev aside and reclaim the presidency.
Robert M. Gates (Duty: Memoirs of a Secretary at War)
The two attributes of passion and anger must then be maintained in a state of equilibrium, to avoid descent to the animal and bestial station, and to prevent the emergence of other reprehensible attributes. For if passion crosses the boundary of equilibrium, cupidity, greed, expectation, vileness, abjection, lust, miserliness, and treachery will appear. Equilibrium of passion consists in exercising the prop- erty of attracting benefit only to the extent of essential need, and only at the time of need. For if the soul desires more than it needs, cupidity will emerge; and if it desires before the time of need, greed will arise. If it desires to provide for the fu- ture, expectation will appear. If it desires something lowly and abominable, vile- ness and abjection will result. If it desires something elevated and pleasurable, lust will arise. If it desires to preserve something, miserliness will result. All this be- longs to the category of profligacy, and “Truly He loves not the profligate.”¹⁶ And if the soul fears that spending may cause it to suffer poverty, cowardice will arise. If the attribute of passion is, by contrast, deficient and subjugated in man’s original disposition, effeminacy, neutrality, and lowliness will result.
Najm Razi (The Path of God's Bondsmen from Origin to Return)
Your skin is so smooth. Like silk." The simple statement disconcerted her. She'd never before received a flattering compliment from a man, especially not an attractive, virile, mostly naked one, and as she stumbled for a response, he advanced like a large cat, a graceful, predatory beast like those from the jungles of Africa that she'd seen at an exhibition in London. He was so near that the fist she'd valiantly anchored to her bosom to hold the towel was pressed against his ribs. His skin was warm, and his matting of chest hair tickled the heel of her hand. She tilted away, but the mirror prevented evasion. Though she fought to appear staunch and in control, her dilemma had quickly spiraled beyond her ability to navigate. Anxiously, she licked her bottom lip, which instantly had him studying her mouth as though intent on devouring her. "Sir, you're scaring me." "How?" "I'm not certain why you're here---" "Aren't you?" His words were husky with a dangerous lust that even she, in her sheltered, virginal state, couldn't misconstrue. "---or what you propose..." "You know what I propose. I'll be very gentle if that's how you like it." With a sure finger, he traced down her cheek and across her neck, and his touch was so blistering that she felt as if she'd been burned. She flinched, and he soothed, "You don't need to be afraid.
Cheryl Holt (Total Surrender)
Attracted to her as he'd been to no other before, he was incorrigibly titillated and aroused. Though his enchantment was unsuitable and could never be acted upon, he lusted after her with a foolhardiness that was frightening. He wanted to have her and exploit her in every manner a man could possibly covet a woman. The sentiments she inspired were feral, animalistic, ungovernable, an irrepressible compulsion that was beyond his cognition or command. He couldn't fight the restless impulses she inspired nor was he inclined to; he simply desired her with a negligent impetuosity that was manic in its intensity.
Cheryl Holt (Total Surrender)
When I was in college, the lust I felt for my professors was overwhelming. It did not matter if they were men or women, attractive or unattractive, brilliant or average, I desired them deeply. I desired them because I thought they had the power to tell me about myself.
Julia May Jonas (Vladimir)
The pull between us, the electricity that stirs in the air when we’re close, am I the only one who feels that? More than lust, more than attraction, what we have is something more.
J.B. Salsbury (True North (The North Brothers, #3))
When it comes to porn, women have to be particularly aware of the effect it has on men. While studies have found that both men and women are more open to straying after viewing porn, this impacts men a lot more than women, as does relationship dissatisfaction in general. While many women can watch porn and still maintain intimacy with their partner, men struggle to do the same. Their thoughts are fixated on images more than women's are. One study found that men considered their partners less attractive after viewing sexually explicit pictures of other women. Researchers believe this is because exposure to these images causes men to undergo a kind of rewiring in their brain about what a typical naked body should look like. So while women might be able to view porn and honestly say it doesn't affect how they view their partner, they can't assume the same is true for their guy. He might not admit it or even realize it, but studies have shown this to be true and it fits with a man's highly visual nature. If a woman doesn't want another woman in her partner's thoughts, she shouldn't tolerate him watching porn - not when he's alone or even with her.
Pamela Anderson (Lust for Love: Rekindling Intimacy and Passion in Your Relationship)
And the more sexual images men and women absorb, the more they move from "subjective attraction," colored by love and the emotions, to "objective attraction," determined by an expertise in the human body that is rarely healthy to acquire. How many women begin to feel that their bodies are inadequate not intrinsically but in comparison to others? Too many.
Pamela Anderson (Lust for Love: Rekindling Intimacy and Passion in Your Relationship)