Lube Quotes

Let love find you. Don’t go looking for it. The best way to attract a mate is to post an ad on Craigslist titled, “Have lube, will travel.

Y’look like someone told you they’d stopped making lube.

A psycho murderer who lubed. How considerate.

Dear Lord,” began Randy, who paused for long enough that Tristan sneaked an eye open to look at him. His saw his mother’s cheek twitch with what he thought might be apprehension. “We are so grateful to be gathered here today with our family, and the family of our brother’s homosexual boyfriend, and our new little goth friend who has a gay dad, whatever the heck that is all about. We’d like to say we’re grateful this year for condoms, lube, and Ellen Degeneres, and for those guys on Queer Eye…” Randall Evan Phillips!” his mother shouted.

You think he has some bomb defusing MacGyver contraption cooked up that involves lube, condoms, and a paper clip?

The Dex Foray special involves two lubed fingers, a lot of tongue and a cigarette for afterwards.

At the end of the day, I was still a virgin, all alone in a dark room, humping a lubed-up robot.

Arik didn’t know how long he’d been in hell. Time was one never-ending, no-lube f&*k when you were in the dark and in agony.

You keep your phone under your pillow?” Kelly asked with a laugh. This was the first time they’d shared a bed while Nick was on duty. “How does it fit beside your gun and your knife and the lube?

Don't come in, Dad!" Hank said. "Believe me, I won't," Karma said with a vocal shiver. "Just…I have, um, condoms and lube." And in a mutter, "Your mother made me.

I can play the trumpet, but only if I have a sufficient quantity of anal lube.

I'm gonna need a strap-on, a dildo, some lube, condoms, and more of that tequila.

Side effects from doggie joy may include face lube and leg-humping" ~ Oberon

I don’t know. Just pick one.” “Well, there’s a lot of choice. I mean, you got your flavored, your ridged, your pre-lubed, your thin, your super-ultra-thin, your super-ultra-thin-pre-lubed, your…Huh.” “Huh what?” “Would you look at this?” he asked, examining a small box. “It says it glows in the dark.

...en route to the final destination, which was always to get trashed, wasted, hammered, crunked up, bombed, wrecked, sloshed, fried, flapjacked, fucked-up, or get plainlong fucked, laid, drained, get some ass, get some head, some skull, a lube job, get your oil changed, get some brown sugar, quiff, goo, pussy...

Ty burst out laughing when he saw it. “Is that a travel pack of lube? I didn’t even know they made those.” Zane grinned. “Where the hell have you been buying your lube?

Did I use enough lube last night?” I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes with blushing cheeks. “Don’t…don’t call it that.” “What? Lube?” he asked. I nodded and covered my mouth with my hand. He chuckled and smirked. “All right, did I use enough stuff last night?” “Mm-hmm.

Don't even think about it." Søren said as Kingsley pulled his coat and gloves off. "I'm always thinking about it." Kingsley said. "I brought the lube." "Kingsley, it's not even five in the morning yet." "You beat me this early before." "I was attempting to wake you up." "With your alarm cock?

Something just ain't right about thanking the Lord for sending you an opportunistic pretty boy who carried a string of condoms and single use packets of lube in his pocket. Still, I did it.

I have a theory that as human beings get older, chemicals are released into the brain to prepare us for the end. Sort of like how the nurse lubes your ass up before the anus-cam. It makes the whole thing a lot easier to swallow. Easier, not enjoyable.

I remember watching Morin walk away from me, the endearing gait and the butt that got lubed for science, and thinking, 'Oh my god, they're just people.

So strap on your stockings and lube your slit

Excuse me for wondering why my f*ing brothers gave you a bottle of lube.

On a scale of straighter-than-straight Jer to fluid-as-lube Kill to confused-as-shit Gareth, I wonder where Brandon King falls. Not that I’m tempted to find out. That would be crazy. Just kidding. I am crazy.

Please, please, please, I implore you, do not forget to pack lube. I’ve heard that dry vaginas can be fatal to a man’s foreskin.

So anyway, what do I do? Shall I get him a basket full of lube with a message that says ‘stick it in me?

Grab the lube, 'cause you are so going for the Fucking God button.

Toys like handcuffs, paddles, and nipple clamps?” Andrew arched a brow. “Or flavored lube, anal plugs, and edible panties?

Still, I’m a gentleman, and I’m not going to make her buy the lube.

Surprisingly, Robert's bare, lubed, thin cock didn't slide into his lover's hole easily. It stopped an inch in, jammed like Pooh in Rabbit's front door.

Didn’t Danny know the rules? You always side with the guy who warms up the lube before he jams it in your ass.

All I think about now is her amazing body wrapped around mine and broken furniture. And race car hoods and bearing alignment, assembly lubes and aligns boring. God honey, the affect you have on me is....unbelievable.

But I hate being a grandfather. It's indecent. In my mind's eye, I'm still twenty-five. Thirty-three max. Certainly not sixty-seven, reeking of decay and dashed hopes. My breath sour. My limbs in dire need of a lube job. And now that I've been blessed with a plastic hip-socket replacement, I'm no longer even biodegradable. Environmentalists will protest my burial.

The Brit's face shares a heritage with a junkyard butt-sniffing mutt. It's a hard-earned moonshine mug, dotted with a hairy mole that looks like a rat's been gnawing on it. His beard looks like a white sneeze. The teeth are jagged and out of alignment, having opened quarts at Jiffy Quick Lube for half a decade.

I confronted the grim realization that virtual sex, no matter how realistic, was really nothing but glorified, computer-assisted masturbation. At the end of the day, I was still a virgin, all alone in a dark room, humping a lubed-up toy.

I wake up and read although Nietzsche says that’s foolish. A sort of narcotic, reading. I read with my hands down the front of my pants—my mode of reading is masturbatory. Sometimes I feel guilty about my lubed fingers all over library books.

While Hannah was busy positioning the laptop and shimmying out of her shorts and a thong, I pushed off my boxers and squirted lube into my palm. I glanced at my cock. It stood stiffly from me, nine thick, smooth inches for which I didn't thank God often enough.

Love is like trying to wrestle an albino. It’s tough because they’re slippery and all lubed up with sunscreen.

I took a second to go into my bedroom and get the immense bottle of lube. I could only be so spontaneous with what I packed in my pants.

Let love find you. Don’t go looking for it. The best way to attract a mate is to post an ad on Craigslist titled, “Have lube, will travel.” ― Jarod Kintz, Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81.

I bet you didn’t know,” he said, “whenever you wanted to shower – I liked to come on the soap. ” I gaped at him. “You did what?” He gave a deep laugh then drew a long, slow breath through his mouth. Under my ass, I could feel how much remembering this was arousing him. “I used to come on the soap. I loved thinking about you rubbing my come all over your body, your nipples, your stomach….” He trailed his finger down to my pubic bone. “…Between your legs.” My breath hitched when he traced his finger down to my testicles. Just that simple touch was enough to get me going again, but I knew this arousal wasn’t merely from the physical contact. I pressed my lips tight and moaned.” “I always wondered if you ever experimented with it,” he continued, his voice now soft and husky. “Did you ever lube yourself? I loved thinking you had my come in your ass.” “Ven….” I closed my eyes when he licked my chest. “Ahh, I always knew you were a pervert but this takes perversity to a whole new level.

I struggled not to laugh at the brand-new bottle of lube in his left hand and the unopened box of condoms in his right. He watched me, his expression dark. “Just buy those?” I asked lightly. He nodded once. “Had it all worked out in your mind, did you?” He nodded again. “Have you ever fucked a man, Seven?” He shook his head, his right hand squishing the box of condoms as he tightened his grip. “And… this is what you want?” I looked at his face then, watching for any signs of doubt. There were none as he nodded again. I opened my arms. “Come here,” I said softly.

For a moment I don’t know what he’s thinking. I release his dick and place a kiss on its tip. “You okay?” He takes a slow breath. “Yeah,” he says as I tease his hole. “It’s strange.” “Can you take more?” If he says no, I’ll drop it. “Okay.” I apply some more lube and then penetrate him with the tip of my finger. “Relax for me, baby.

No more goddamn fingers. Fuck me already,” Syn hissed over his shoulder. Furi slapped Syn’s ass a few times with his hard cock. “Damn, you are a bossy bottom, aren’t you? Look at you. Aching for my cock,” Furi moaned, rubbing his sheathed cock up and down Syn’s crease. He grabbed the lube and drizzled it messily over Syn’s hole. “Damn,

Alexei’s wide shoulders and chest, coupled with the insanely powerful thighs his worn jeans struggled to contain, should have been Mike’s first clue he was looking at a goalie. And in the case of the Ice Cats, the metric ton of lube soaking into his clothes should probably have been a good hint, too. Alexei Belov was infamous for his pranks.

New Rule: Not everything in America has to make a profit. If conservatives get to call universal health care "socialized medicine," I get to call private, for-profit health care "soulless vampire bastards making money off human pain." Now, I know what you're thinking: "But, Bill, the profit motive is what sustains capitalism." Yes, and our sex drive is what sustains the human species, but we don't try to fuck everything. It wasn't that long ago when a kid in America broke his leg, his parents took him to the local Catholic hospital, the nun stuck a thermometer in his ass, the doctor slapped some plaster on his ankle, and you were done. The bill was $1.50; plus, you got to keep the thermometer. But like everything else that's good and noble in life, some bean counter decided that hospitals could be big business, so now they're not hospitals anymore; they're Jiffy Lubes with bedpans. The more people who get sick, and stay sick, the higher their profit margins, which is why they're always pushing the Jell-O. Did you know that the United States is ranked fiftieth in the world in life expectancy? And the forty-nine loser countries were they live longer than us? Oh, it's hardly worth it, they may live longer, but they live shackled to the tyranny of nonprofit health care. Here in America, you're not coughing up blood, little Bobby, you're coughing up freedom. The problem with President Obama's health-care plan isn't socialism. It's capitalism. When did the profit motive become the only reason to do anything? When did that become the new patriotism? Ask not what you could do for your country, ask what's in it for Blue Cross Blue Shield. And it's not just medicine--prisons also used to be a nonprofit business, and for good reason--who the hell wants to own a prison? By definition, you're going to have trouble with the tenants. It's not a coincidence that we outsourced running prisons to private corporations and then the number of prisoners in America skyrocketed. There used to be some things we just didn't do for money. Did you know, for example, there was a time when being called a "war profiteer" was a bad thing? FDR said he didn't want World War II to create one millionaire, but I'm guessing Iraq has made more than a few executives at Halliburton into millionaires. Halliburton sold soldiers soda for $7.50 a can. They were honoring 9/11 by charging like 7-Eleven. Which is wrong. We're Americans; we don't fight wars for money. We fight them for oil. And my final example of the profit motive screwing something up that used to be good when it was nonprofit: TV news. I heard all the news anchors this week talk about how much better the news coverage was back in Cronkite's day. And I thought, "Gee, if only you were in a position to do something about it.

Using lube has been known to make penetrative sex last longer, and even a drop in the well of a condom can make wearing one a lot more comfy.

I’m kind of a lube fiend. And I definitely don’t think I’m a sufficiently high-level sodomite for him to cruise in on saliva and a fair wind.

You should have known better than to test me, baby girl. This is what bad girls get for being dirty little sluts. A hard dick lodged deep in their ass with no lube.

Grab the lube, 'cause you are so going for the Fucking God button." (Alan to Lukas, Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells)

I fucking love you, Banner.” “I brought the lube,” “You’re going to kill me, woman.” “Only in the best way possible.

Lies smoothed the way so we could go on pretending. They were the lube of life, and we all got a little messy in the process. But

She was a ball of “do me now.” Twice. Ten times if he had the stamina and lube.

Tell me you spotted a condom tree over to the right by the stream of lube.

I remember watching Morin walk away from me, the endearing gait and the butt that got lubed for science, and thinking, “Oh my god, they’re just people.” NASA

At least your dumb ass provided me with the perfect fucking lube. Little ketchup packet. That’s what I’ll mark on your grave.” I spit.

went around my cock and he jerked up along my shaft. He gripped tight but with all the lube along my dick it just slid back and forth. He squeezed extra hard

silicone-based lube.

You’re willing to share a woman, but not your lube?” Riven says drily. Eli just shrugs. “I own the lube. I don’t own the woman.

We need to talk’ was the equivalent of ‘I’m punching you in the face with my words before I fuck you up the ass without lube and with something you won’t like.

How did I put up with seven husbands? Lube. Lots and lots of lube. And I fed them. And petted them. And sometimes took them out for walks, depending on my mood.

I decided to go for the honest answer. “My guess is I’m going to bed with a mental image of you, some lube and a box of tissues.

So, maybe I will fuck you in a vanilla manner, tonight.” More lube, this time slicking his hole. Brian gripped his thighs and lifted him. “You’re rare and hard, and entirely mine.” He

And if he does it again,” Alex snapped, aggravated with the mess all over her as she shot a look to Will, “we’ll put him in a bed between your legs, surrounded by dildos and lube next time.

God rolled the condom onto his aching cock and applied a generous amount of lube. Day got up and turned around, putting his back to God’s broad chest. God let Day position his cock at his entrance and ease down onto him at his own pace. God gritted his teeth at the perfect view of his cock being swallowed by this sexy man. “Oh my fucking god. Leo, fuck,” God groaned through gritted teeth. Leo’s

I absentmindedly picked up the dusty old tube of lube and flipped it over, curious to see if that AOL-era shit had an expiration date printed anywhere. Just as I suspected, I saw June 12, 2009. That goo was so old

I was going to say something like ‘there’s nothing vanilla about the way I plan to fuck you tonight’.” Brian opened the bottle of lube and poured some onto his hands. “But you know, real vanilla is rare and expensive.

I take my time with him, more generous than usual with the lube. Fuck, I don’t want to hurt him, and I absolutely don’t want him to hate this. I can’t help but remember my first time, how cheap it made me feel, being used by a guy who didn’t give a shit whether I enjoyed myself or not. I want this to be so good for Jamie. “One finger won’t be enough this time.” My voice is so gravelly it stings my throat. “You’ll need to get used to more before I…uh…

Have you ever been acquainted with your prostate?” He shakes his head. “Do you trust me?” Jamie nods immediately, and my heart constricts. I must be insane to push him like this, but the things I crave are at war with my better judgment. So now I’m getting off the bed to dig in my duffel for the bottle of lube I keep in there. His eyes follow the bottle when I sit back on the bed. He’s probably seconds away from saying, “Hang on, that’s just too gay for me.” So I lean down and take the tip of his erection in my mouth.

All the things I couldn’t do to my wife—in my mind, I did a thousand times to you. Bit you, spanked you, ropes, whips, lube. And in my fantasies, you’d thank me. Covered in welts and my cum, with makeup smeared on your face, you’d thank me. And then I’d fuck you again.

Finn stopped in front of the row of shelves next to it, where a carefully hand-lettered sign announced Massage Oils. Beneath it were smaller signs affixed to each individual shelf. Sensual, Therapeutic... Edible. Sector fucking Four, man, where even the lube was pretentious.

virtual sex, no matter how realistic, was really nothing but glorified, computer-assisted masturbation. At the end of the day, I was still a virgin, all alone in a dark room, humping a lubed-up robot. So I got rid of the ACHD and went back to spanking the monkey the old-fashioned way. I

Lube helps to prevent micro-tears on the delicate skin in and on the genitals, which leave us vulnerable to sexually transmitted infections. Lube also makes the friction between your vagina (or anus) and whatever is being inserted silky and comfortable, as well as aids in smooth and nongrating hand sex.

Fuck,” he gasps, arching his back. Once again I am socked with the certainty that I’m the world’s most manipulative bastard. But I’m trying to blow his mind, and I’m hoping that’s enough justification. I torture him with my tongue until he’s practically levitating off the bed. “Lift this leg,” I whisper. Drunk from my teasing, he hikes his knee without complaint, and I position him so I can reach his crease easily. I dribble some lube onto the fingers of one hand. Then I drop my head and take his cock in my mouth. When I start sucking, he gasps. But when I slide my fingers between his ass cheeks, he goes silent.

While she worked on her clothes, he walked to the small closet at the back of his office. He kept extras there. Extra guns. Extra ammo. Bulletproof vest. The tiniest bit of C-4. And an extra kit complete with lube and a still-packaged anal plug. Just the basics. What every man needed to survive the apocalypse.

Until the first petroleum well was drilled in Pennsylvania in 1859, whale oil *was* oil. In Leviathan, a fine history of whaling, Eric Jay Dolin enumerates whale Phil's manifold applications: 'It was used in the production of soap, textiles, leather, paints, and varnishes, and it lubricated the tools and machines that drove the Industrial Revolution.' In fact, its use as a lubricant impervious to extremes in temperature persisted well into the space age -- NASA lubed its moon landers and other remotely operated vehicles with sperm whale oil until the International Whaling Commission banned commercial whaling in 1986.

At three fingers, he moans loud enough to wake the dead, and I release his erection to press my palm to his mouth. “Quiet, baby.” “Wes…” He’s squirming now, pushing his ass against my probing fingers. Every time I connect with his prostate, he pants out a breath. “I need more.” He’s beautiful. Goddamn beautiful. And I’m so hard it hurts. My heartbeat takes off like it’s on a breakaway as I tear open the condom packet with my teeth. I cover myself with one hand, then pour lube on the condom to get the latex even slicker. My fingers continue to torment Jamie’s ass. “You ready for it?” I rasp. His lips part on a shaky breath. He nods.

Lies smoothed the way so we could go on pretending. They were the lube of life, and we all got a little messy in the process. But the darkest lies were the ones you told yourself. They lurked in the shadows of your subconscious, undermining you and twisting your perceptions. They hid the answers in plain sight, right when you needed them most.

An elephant walks into a bar, and the bartender asks, “What can I get for you?” The elephant replies, “Sex on the beach, please.” To which the bartender responds, “Sorry, but I’m afraid your penis is too big for me.” “That’s no problem,” the elephant says as he smiles, “how about a double shot of Don’t worry, I brought a few gallons of anal lube.

Oh God! You asked Jared for lube?" "Yeah. Why not?" "It just seems weird." He shook his head at me and smiled. "When we first met, I thought you were an uptight prep." "And now?" "Now I know you're an uptight prep." He pressed closer. "Cute, though." "I though you were a punk." "And now?" "I think you're amazing." "Zach?" "Yeah?" "Shut up a d kiss me.

Michael sank a little bit lower to the bed as I pounded his hole mercilessly. Derek rocked with us as he rode on his brother’s back. My cum was dripping out of his asshole, down Michael’s crack. Every time my dick pushed inside Michael, the extra cum added more lube. It was a sexy sight, so kinky and stimulating. I was getting close and I wanted him to cum with me.

Let me do that for you,” I whisper. I lube up my hand and reach between his legs. Wes puts both fists on the bed and leans into my body, kissing my jaw. I caress his taint, and he sighs into my ear. When I finger his crease, he lays his head on my shoulder. “That’s it,” I breathe. When I penetrate him, he freezes for a second. Then I hear him take a deep breath, and I feel him relax. He’s hot and tight and like nothing I’ve ever felt. I ease inside. He alternately fights me and then relaxes. I stop to apply a ridiculous amount of lube to my hand. And now I’m able to reach his spot. I move my finger in a beckoning motion, and he shivers against my body. Wes’s face is still buried in my neck. I like it there. I wish he’d never leave.

A small container of Rocky Road lands on the counter next to me. “I figured Rocky Road was appropriate to pave the way to brown town,” she says with a laugh. The man in front of me takes his receipt, and the cashier, a younger woman, reaches for our purchases as soon as Banner starts laughing at her own joke. The cashier’s eyes go wide when she comprehends. “Brown Town? Is that up in the foothills, Logan? I’m not sure I’ve heard of it,” a familiar voice says from behind me. Oh, for Christ’s sake. I turn around to face Mrs. Harris, her hands full with a box of tea and a bottle of melatonin, but when I open my mouth to respond, nothing comes out. Banner smiles sweetly and says, “It’s just south of Pussy Ridge. At least, I’m pretty sure it is.” I choke, and the cashier’s face turns red. “Pussy Ridge. I haven’t heard of that either. I’ll have to ask Mr. Harris to get out the Rand McNally so we can take a drive there this weekend. I do love my weekend drives.” I have no idea how Banner is keeping a straight face, but she replies, “I love a good long ride too. Especially when it gets a little rough.” The older woman smiles. “Me too. Emmy has never been a fan, though. She’s always gotten carsick at the littlest bump.” Banner finally grins. “That explains so much about her.” The cashier’s eyes are tearing up as I shove money at her before I bag the ice cream, Doritos, and lube myself. “See you later, Mrs. Harris. You’ll have to let us know how that drive goes.

His eyes are so heavy-lidded I can only see a slit of silver gleaming down at me. Then he licks his lips, and a thrill shoots up my spine. I know that look. I love that look. Wes shoves his trousers down. His thick erection slaps my abs. “I want to touch you,” I beg. “No.” His tone is commanding. It only intensifies the thrill. “Gotta hold you down so you don’t go running off again.” He gives me another lingering kiss just to drive the point home. And when he finally releases my wrists, he’s off the bed before I can reach for him. “Don’t move,” he whispers, and I go still, watching in near fascination as he charges across the room to where he dropped his wallet. He opens it, extracts one of his handy packets of travel lube, and returns to the bed. “Arms over your head.

I obey. He tosses my jeans aside and settles between my legs and grabs hold of my wrists again. With his other hand, he lubes up his dick, then guides it to the place that aches for him. “Fucking fuck me,” I beg. Humor dances in his eyes. “I’m not going to fuck you.” Now I’m groaning again. Goddamn it. If he plans on torturing me again, I really will lose my mind— “I’m going to make love to you,” he finishes. My breath hitches. Smiling, Wes drops his mouth to mine. Our lips lock at the same moment he slowly slides inside me. The burn of pleasure makes me gasp but he swallows the sound with a soft, sweet kiss that matches the soft, sweet strokes of his cock. He fills me. Completes me. My dick is an iron spike against my belly, and I struggle against the tight band of his fingers around my wrists.

it also helped that they were amazing at butt sex. Seriously. The first time had been a bit of a disaster waaaay too much lube, so much so that it'd been like a human Slip 'N Slide but every time after? Holy shit, they should've gotten awards for some of the stuff they did. Seth could be very imaginative. Nick felt bad for the people who couldn't have sex while flying. It was really somethinq else.

I will care for and protect you, nurture you, and support you, and tell you your butt is perfect in every dress and adore everything about you. I promise to love you tirelessly through perfect times and the merely fabulous times. I promise to leave you alone one week every month, for my sanity and yours. I promise to try to always put the toilet seat down. I promise to try to remember to put my dirty clothes in the hamper and replace the toilet paper when the roll is empty. I promise to use plenty of lube before trying to poke things in your bellybutton, no promise about your ears, though. In the presence of our beloved family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your godlike partner and lover. In good times and bad and in joy as well as sorrow, I give you my heart, my love, my soul. I love you, now and forever.” Conly

kick it away and run my fingers over her pussy. She’s not that wet, but I didn’t expect her to be. I squeeze some lube on my fingers and softly rub it over her pussy and up over her ass. She freaked out when I touched her there before I left to finish watching the vow ceremony, but she will learn that I own that as well, and I will have it. Even if that means she leaves me no choice but to take it. I plunge a finger into her pussy, watching to see if she reacts.

Ding! Lady Elizabeth Figgles. Her father’s a viscount and a member of Parliament, and she’s also Sam Berkinshire’s—an old schoolmate and one of my dearest friends—girlfriend. “Elizabeth? What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Sam?” “Sam can go fucking die.” She looks right at the camera. “Are you getting this? You can go fucking die, Sam! I hope your prick gets caught in a wood chipper, you cheating bastard!” “He cheated on you? Sam?” Sam’s a great guy. The kind of guy even really good guys want to be more like. He makes Abraham Lincoln look like a lying shit. “Your face right now, that’s exactly how I looked when I found out—but a hell of a lot angrier. I found receipts, knickers that weren’t mine, rubbers. Faithless, worthless son of a bitch.” She bangs the table and her nails are long enough to double as claws. “Now I want Sam to see what it feels like. So I’m going to fuck you. On television. A lot. Hopefully live. You’d better rest up, Henry. I brought lube—a whole bucket of it.” Wow. Ding!

You could say that cleaning someone else’s house was a shit job. That it was disgusting to be entangled in someone else’s habits and ways, finding nail clippings—finger and toe—and little fluffy hair nests and partly squeezed tubes of cortisone cream or even lube, all of it evidence of a life you really didn’t want to think about. But you could also just say that it was work. And that work was admirable, even if it was hard or unappealing or undersung, or often maddeningly underpaid if you were female, as Greer used to remind him.

Wes doesn’t make me wait long—in a heartbeat, his tip prods my ass, and then his big, lubed-up cock slips through the ring of muscle and plunges inside. We both groan. His hands clutch my hips, long fingers digging into my skin as he slowly pulls out, then slams back in again. “Fucking hell, Canning, I fucking love you so fucking much.” He sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, and when half his vocabulary is reduced to F-bombs, that means Wes is barely hanging on to his control. But I love it when he loses control. I know I'm in for a wild ride and holy hell does he give it to me.

Luke, meet Willy,” Micah says from behind him, his voice sounding strained. “Randy’s elf and all around pain in the ass.” “Speak for yourself, nurse boy,” Willy comes back at him with a loud laugh. “And Randy says the pain’s not so bad anymore, so ha! You know that stuff takes a lot of practice for it not to hurt every time.” Surely he’s not saying what it sounds like he’s saying? “And a lot of lube,” the elf continues. “I mean, when you’re as big as I am and all, even if Randy is a big man, he still has a tight-” Oh, he’s definitely saying it. Micah slaps his hands over his ears. “Stop it!” Willy smirks at him. “I bet you won’t call me a pain in the ass in front of somebody again.

I’ve tackled many challenges in my lifetime. The most satisfying ones were food related. Like the 2-pound burger at Fuddruckers that I had to devour in 15 minutes. Shattered it in 5 minutes and 46 seconds! Or the Blazing Challenge at Buffalo Wild Wings: eat 12 blazing wings in 5 minutes. Killed it in 57 seconds! Quaker Steak and Lube’s all-you-can- eat wings in one sitting? I may still hold the record in Madison, Wisconsin, for scarfing down 78. I’ll never forget when 6 linemen and I went to a sushi restaurant during the time of the 2011 Rose Bowl in Pasadena. We didn’t exactly take on an eating challenge, but we did get kicked out of the place when the owner ordered, “Go home now. You’ve eaten eight hundred dollars’ worth of sushi.

When he climbed back on the bed, Michaels was abruptly flipped over onto his stomach. “Yes,” he breathed. He was so used to doing the handling himself, he didn’t mind Judge taking over for a while. He heard Judge spit against his hole and aggressively rub it in, pushing his thick middle finger in, working his walls. He spit again and Michaels’ dick jerked at the sexiness of the vulgar sound and then the way Judge rubbed his saliva into his skin. He had the lube… why was he spitting on him? Oh my god. This is new. Judge was into spit, huh? Oh, very nice. Michaels wasn’t against that in the least. He imagined Judge fucking him face to face, Michaels opening his mouth begging for his spit…. “I’m ready. I’m fuckin’ ready.” Michaels hurried Judge. His cock was about to bust and he wasn’t even touching it. He reached his hand behind him and rubbed the warm moisture against his hole, spreading it onto his ass, and showing Judge that he liked this, liked bathing in his spit, liked it a lot. He heard Judge groan and swear behind him. Michaels

Don’t cry, Evie.” He rubbed his broad hands on her back, gentling her. “Those things are not true. You aren’t a whore.” She choked. “I’m here aren’t I? At Ford’s?” John always knew exactly how to hurt her. Charley held her away from him, honest intensity in his chocolate eyes. He spoke deliberately, his tone serious. “I know you’re not a whore because I don’t often get denied. Nine out of ten people, man or woman, would have fucked me on the spot when I offered it the first time.” Her mouth dropped open and for a moment she forgot her emotions. He grinned and his eyes twinkled with mischief. Balling her fist, she cuffed him on the chest. Hard. “Ouch!” “You’re an asshole.” She was laughing through her tears. “That’s your whore test?” “No! God, of course not! That’s just my you-have-a-pulse test. My whore test is much more hard-core. I can give you that one if you want. But…” He made a show of looking around the room. “We’re going to need some lube. And possibly some plastic sheeting.” He got up and opened one of the dresser drawers. “Do you have a video recorder with a wide-angle lens? And a zucchini?

For boys, sex is a part of life, a rite of passage. Boys look at porn when they’re twelve, thirteen! Boys get to have sex just as it is, just sex. Girls are taught fairy tales, they’re taught happily ever after , they’re taught sex as a consequence of marriage. Imagine seeing the world that way, as if sex isn’t a right but a rung on a ladder. We have to withhold it, can you imagine that? Because it’s so brainless and simple that if men get it too easily, they’ll just leave. Because really, how the fuck is my vagina different from any other woman’s? No, the thing that makes me different is somewhere else, literally anywhere else, but I can’t enjoy sex without some archaic sociological risk. And if you think about that it’s even worse, because look at the vagina, Aldo. It can have infinite orgasms. It doesn’t require any recovery time. It can come and come and come and what, maybe it gets dry? Lube it up again, easy. If any sexual organ is omnipotent it’s the fucking cunt but no, penises are the ones who get to decide whether a woman has value. Who let that happen? Really, Aldo, who? Maybe this is why men rule the world, because they were clever enough to convince women that virginity is precious, that sex itself should be secret, that being penetrated was sacrosanct. It’s idiotic, it’s even dumber than it is cruel and that’s the worst part. The idea that I should want sex less than you, why does that exist?

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY I sat down next to Connie at the front desk. I almost never sat down next to Connie when she wasn’t just starting to rub lotion into her hands. I watched her rub her hands together. Her hands were like lubed animals doing a mating dance. And she was hardly alone: people everywhere kept bottles of lotion in and around their desks, people everywhere that morning were just starting to rub lotion into their hands. I missed the point. I hated missing the point, but I did, I missed it completely. If I could just become a lotioner, I thought, how many other small, pleasurable gestures made throughout the day might click into place for me, and all that exile, all that alienation and scorn, simply vanish? But I couldn’t do it. I despised the wet sensation that refused to subside even after all the lotion had been rubbed in and could be rubbed in no farther. I hit that terminal point and wanted nothing more to do with something either salutary or vain but never pleasant. I thought it was heinous. That little hardened dollop of lotion right at the lip of the squirter, that was really so heinous. But it was part of the point, the whole point. Why was I always on the outside looking in, always alien to the in? As I say, Connie was not alone. In medical offices, law firms, and advertising agencies, in industrial parks, shipping facilities, and state capitols, in ranger stations and even in military barracks, people were moisturizing. They

I want you to ride me.” “Fuck.” Dex shivered from head to toe. “That’s the idea.” Sloane put his hands behind his head, and Dex crawled over him. He sat on Sloane’s thighs and wrapped his lubed hand around Sloane’s hard cock, sliding it up to the head and drawing a sharp breath from Sloane. He loved watching his partner. The heated look in Dex’s eyes, the way those plump lips were slightly parted as he slowly eased his hand down to the root, twisting as he went. Sloane closed his eyes with a moan. When Dex had slathered him up good and driven Sloane to the point where he thought he’d come, he grabbed Dex’s wrist and pulled him over. He needed to taste those lips, to claim them as his, and he started by forcing his tongue inside Dex’s mouth, his kisses hungry and needy. Gripping Dex’s ass, Sloane moved Dex onto him, pulling away from Dex’s lips long enough to demand hoarsely, “Fuck yourself on my dick.” “Oh God.” Dex shifted back and reached behind him. He took hold of Sloane’s cock, and Sloane felt it being pushed between Dex’s ass cheeks. With gritted teeth he watched Dex gradually push himself farther back onto Sloane. “Fuck. Dex,” Sloane groaned, his hands gripping fistfuls of the sheets as he felt the tightness of Dex’s ass swallowing Sloane little by little. Sloane’s brow was beaded with sweat, and he gritted his teeth until Dex was sitting on him with Sloane shoved all the way up. Dex leaned slightly forward, and Sloane ran a hand up his lover’s chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Dex

Syn pulled his boxers on and quietly left the bedroom, walking angrily to the kitchen. He turned the corner and wanted to throw a shit-fit at the sight before him. Day was standing at his stove loading some type of egg dish onto a plate before turning and setting it in front of God. God folded down one side of his newspaper, peering at Syn from behind it. “Well good morning, sunshine,” Day said way too cheerily for five-fucking-a.m. “We brought breakfast.” Syn clenched his jaw, trying not to yell at his superior officers. “Have you two lost your fuckin’ minds? Come on. It’s, it’s ... early.” Syn turned his wrist, forgetting he didn’t have his watch on yet. “Damn, you guys are always at the office, or at a crime scene, or over fucking here at god-awful hours.” “Oh, it’s early?” Day said disbelievingly. God shrugged like he hadn’t realized either. “Seriously. When the fuck do you guys sleep?” “Never,” God said nonchalantly. “When do you fuck?” Syn snapped. “Always,” Day quipped. “Just did thirty minutes ago. Nice couch by the way, real comfy, sorry for the stain.” Syn tiredly flipped Day off. “Don’t be pissed,” Day sing-songed. “A dab of Shout will get that right out.” Syn rubbed angrily at his tired eyes, growling, “Day.” “He’s not in a joking mood, sweetheart,” God said from behind his paper. “You know we didn’t fuck on your couch so calm the hell down. Damn you’re moody in the morning. Unless ... We weren’t interrupting anything, were we? So, how’s porn boy?” God’s gruff voice filled the kitchen, making Syn cringe. “First of all. Don’t fucking call him that, ever, and damnit God. Lower your voice. Shit. He’s still asleep,” Syn berated his Lieutenant, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by Syn’s irritation. “You guys could let him sleep, he’s had a rough night, ya know.” Day leaned his chest against God’s large back, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Oh damn, what kind of friends are we? It was rough, huh?” Day looked apologetic. “Yes, it was, Day. He just–” “Try water-based lube next time,” Day interrupted, causing God to choke on his eggs. “Day, fuck.” Syn tried not to grin, but when he thought about it, it really was funny. “I knew I’d get you to smile. Have some breakfast Sarge, we gotta go question the crazy chicks. You know how much people feel like sharing when they’ve spent a night in jail.” “Damn. Alright, just let me–” “Wow. Something smells great.” Furi’s deep voice reached them from down the hall as he made his way to the kitchen. “You cook babe? Who knew? I’ll have the Gladiator portion.” Furi used his best Roman accent as he sauntered into the kitchen with his hands on hips and his head high. Syn turned just as Furi noticed God and Day. “Oh, fuck, shit, Jesus Christ!” Furi stumbled, his eyes darting wildly between all of them. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” Furi looked at Syn trying to gauge exactly how much he’d fucked up just now. Syn smiled at him and Furi immediately lost the horrified expression. Syn held his hand out and mouthed to him 'it's okay.

Ten was sick of farting peppermint from Ronan using the minty shampoo as lube.