Pinched Nerve Quotes

Was he laughing? The nerve of him. The situation called for extreme measures. So, with all the skill I could gather, I stretched down until my hand reached his backside and pinched his butt. Yep. I, Lina Martín, had just pinched Aaron Blackford’s butt.

Again and again workers told me that they are under tremendous pressure not to report injuries. The annual bonuses of plant foremen and supervisors are often based in part on the injury rate of their workers. Instead of crating a safer workplace, these bonus schemes encourage slaughterhouse managers to make sure that accidents and injuries go unreported. Missing fingers, broken bones, deep lacerations and amputated limbs are difficult to conceal from authorities. But the dramatic and catastrophic injuries in a slaughterhouse are greatly outnumbered by less visible, though no less debilitating, ailments: torn muscles, slipped disks, pinched nerves.

Product Warning If this book were a medication with a label, it would read something like this: Side Effects Include but Are Not Limited to renewed sense of self-esteem increased motivation in all areas of life You may also lose weight, fall in love, leave a bad marriage, create a better one, have closer relationships with your family, or find the job of your dreams. Some Users Have experienced a kick in their step a swing in their hips a twinkle in their eye Hair-tossing (commercial-style) is common, but seek medical attention if you pinch a nerve or can’t stop doing it.

Crutches may be a pain in the (pinched nerve back) ass to use, but damn, they are handy when your dog pushes open the bathroom door while you are contemplating life. They're also handy to turn on lights just out of your reach, and to threat your husband with if he doesn't fetch you a Fresca because you are a poor, pathetic little thing huddled under a Snuggy, unable to walk without bellowing profanities at the top of your lungs, thereby scaring your dogs, the fat squirrel stuffing his face on the deck, and the manic depressive goats that live three houses down.

His quick eyes seemed to miss nothing, and she couldn’t hide the motion of her fingers squeezing the fabric of her skirts. His gaze rose back to her face, lingering on her lips, then meeting her eyes. Even giving away her nerves with the telltale sign of her pinched fingers, she refused to look away. “Andreas, I think I’ve fallen in love.” “Roman.” There was a wealth of unspoken meaning in that one word, so darkly uttered. But Roman’s too-beautiful mouth crooked, head cocked, eyes watching.

Thai prostitution was a haven for the men and a nuisance for the women. The streets of Phuket were outlined with bars ready to nourish thirsty sailors with euphoric intoxication to smother their pinched nerves from their personal lives deteriorating in their six-month absence. Thailand truly lived up to its port reputation. Hundreds of bikini-clad prostitutes littered the strip. Slim and petite, their narrow hips and flat chests appeared to be the appropriate age for the pink plaid schoolgirl skirts, dress shirts, ties, and pigtails intended to entice pedophilic eroticism. They wore heavy coats of pastel liquid shadow that clashed against their yellow tinted tans. They awkwardly wiggled to a nauseating blend of techno and Reggaeton as cotton-haired granddaddies lustfully gawked at them. Any Caucasian male cannot trek a block without the treatment of a pop culture heartthrob with a trail of Thai teens at his heels. “Wan hunnet baaht!” they taunt in a nasal screech. “Wan hunnet baht and I suck yo cock!” The oriental beauties cup their fists and hold them to their mouths as they wiggle their tongues against their cheeks to provide a clear visual for their performance skills. It’s easy to dismiss the humanity in Thai prostitutes. Their splotchy, heavily accented English allows the language barrier to muffle signs of intellect. They’re overtly sexual in their crotch bearing ensembles, loud and vulgar invitations, and provocative dancing that makes even corner butcher shops feel like Vegas strip clubs. Swarms of them linger in front of bars holding cardboard signs scribbled with magic marker that offer a blow job with the first beer purchased. Their eyes burn into passing tourists, with acute radar for creamy, sun-flushed complexions and potbellies - signals of the deep pockets of white male privilege.

And new physical problems are arising almost daily. I'm getting problems from a painful trapped nerve in my shoulder, where my rucksack strap has been pinching it, and I can't straighten my arm above shoulder level - soon I will be limping like Richard III. By now my back is covered with eczema, the result of a perpetually sodden shirt and rucksack pressed against it day after day in this heat. In one place my pack has rubbed a painful hole in my skin through the eczema; carrying my rucksack was unpleasant before, but now it is purgatory. This eczema must be partly due to eating bad food for so long - I never had this problem at home. I'm expecting my teeth and hair to start falling out before long, and I've got more or less a permanent acid indigestion from eating so much junk. Week after week I've lived on lukewarm Coca-Cola, stale buns and doughnuts, slurps, green bananas, powdered milk and far too many cigarettes. With all the rubbishy food and sugar soft drinks I've been consuming, I'll see the east coast through a hypoglycaemic haze.

I’m hoping he comes back with a broken arm.” Oren packed a pinch of tobacco into the bowl of the pipe with his thumb. “Then I won’t have to be the one to break it when he finally gets up enough nerve to touch Lily.” “Oren!” Lily scolded through a smile. Good thing Oren didn’t know Connell already had touched her—even if it had only been brief. “I see the way that man’s been looking at you,” Oren mumbled, adding another layer of tobacco. “Even a blind man could see that he can’t keep his eyes off you.” Her inexperienced heart flushed with pleasure at Oren’s words. “Connell McCormick’s a good boy.” Vera wiped her arm across her forehead, brushing her frazzled hair into greater disarray. “I haven’t met too many boys as good as Connell.” Lily had to agree. She’d never known a man like Connell—someone so thoughtful and considerate. “All I have to say is he’s lucky I haven’t poked out his eyeballs yet for all the liberty he’s takin’ looking at Lily.” “He’s attracted to her,” Vera retorted, never afraid to give Oren the guff he deserved. “You can’t blame the boy. Lily’s probably the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.” “Well, ’course she is.” Oren packed a last layer into his pipe.

Her nerves were stressed to the max. Allison had left the day before and had promised to text her when she arrived at her house five hours to the north. She hadn't remembered, but Jessica had sent a text and Allison had responded that she'd made it okay. Jessica didn't blame Allison for forgetting; she imagined she was busy catching up with her parents and little sister. She resolved to get over the pinch of jealousy she felt at the other girl's home life. It wasn't as if Jessica didn't want Allison to have a family, after all, most everyone else did.

When he was braced alcoholically for his classes, there was never a passable female student that he had not considered hungrily and, properly loaded, approached. Even complaisant girls, however, either froze or fled at their professor's greedy but classical advances. An unexpected goose or pinch on the bottom as they were mounting the stairs ahead of him, a sudden nip at the earlobe as they bent over the book he offered, a wild clutch at thigh, or a Marxian (Harpo) dive at bottom, a trousered male leg thrust between theirs as they passed his seat to make them fall in his lap, where he tickled their ribs - all these abrupt overtures sent them flying in terror. Brought to his senses by their screams, Kellsey retreated hastily. Some of the more experienced girls, after adjusting their skirts, blouses, coiffures, and maidenly nerves, realized that this was only a hungry man's form of courtship. They reminded themselves that old, famous, and rich men played very funny games, and they prepared themselves for the next move. But Kellsey, repulsed, became at once the haughty, sardonic, woman-hating pedant, leaving the poor dears a confused impression that they were the ones who had behaved badly, and sometimes, baffled by his subsequent hostility and bad grades, they even apologized.

Baltsaros let out a sudden sharp breath and his brow furrowed, eyes locked on Jon’s. Tom had obviously found the nerve to do as he was asked and let out a soft grunt as he thrust his hips forward slowly against the captain. A sound caught in Jon’s throat, and he nodded quickly. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Fuck him deep, Tom.” Jon couldn’t explain to himself why he needed to make them do this, only that it ate up some of the anger and shame that he was carrying around like lead in his belly. It was as if he needed to restore some of the power and control that had been ripped from him. He lifted himself up on one elbow to watch Tom and Baltsaros; the first mate’s side glistened with sweat as he fucked the captain slowly with brows pinched together and eyes closed with his efforts. Jon reached out and placed a hand on Tom’s ass, coaxing him to move faster. “This is for you, not for him,” he said, and found that though he was sated, the sight of Tom ploughing into Baltsaros had his cock again at half-mast. “Gods, that’s gorgeous. Don’t hold back… Do you like fucking him? Do you like having your cock in his ass?” Tom let out a small moan and fucked the captain harder, curling his arm around Baltsaros’s chest possessively; though he didn’t reply, he sighed a word. “Da.” Jon touched himself, teasing the head of his cock as Tom worked himself closer using Baltsaros’s body. He lay back down and saw that Baltsaros had closed his eyes.

Ruxs gripped Green’s rigid length, slowly stroking the base while he licked around the head. Sucking and nibbling lightly on the sensitive nerves. “Damnit.” Green moaned, wanting to thrust deeper into Ruxs’ sexy mouth. He cupped his hand on Ruxs’ jaw, the other hand on the back of his head. He pushed, wanting Ruxs to take him deeper, wanting Ruxs to put in more work. He could feel the flat of that warm tongue sliding up and down his shaft, the noises Ruxs made while he sucked him driving him insane with desire. He pushed some more and heard Ruxs gag and Green almost came right then. “Fuck yeah.” He pushed Ruxs head down again. His lover didn’t fight him. He went down, trying to take as much in as he could, choking when he had taken only half of Green’s length. “Shit. Yes. Choke on my cock, baby.” Green watched Ruxs’ every move. Felt his throat working under his palm. “That’s it, deeper. Ahhh.” Ruxs couldn’t take Green all the way down, but how hard he was trying was making Green’s toes curl and his spine tingle. Ruxs choking and spitting on his dick was a crazy fuckin’ turn-on for him. Ruxs gagged hard, pulled off him coughing and cursing like he was angry. “Fuck. Chris. Big fuckin’ dick.” Ruxs jerked him fast and hard, bending back down and sucking on the head. “Gonna make me come, babe. Shit. Just like that.” Green’s thighs flexed and his balls drew up tight against him. He reached under Ruxs’ body and pinched both of his nipples, hard, twisting them, enjoying the sharp crying sound Ruxs made around his dick. Green squeezed his eyes shut, his orgasm ravaging his body as he threw his head back, cursing in a low, growling timber. “Fucking, coming.” The first jolt from him had white lights dancing behind his eyelids. He let go of Ruxs’ abused nipple, gripping the back of his neck with both hands, forcing him down again. A powerful tremor shook him as he released more and more into that sexy mouth. Ruxs gagged again and Green saw his come leaking out of Ruxs’ mouth. He took his thumb and shoved it back in. His thumb and cock, spreading Ruxs’ plump lips. He held back his shouts as much as he could. But damn. Ruxs had him crazy with lust. Seeing and hearing Ruxs gag trying to take him deep, watching his come flood his mouth. Fuck! He’d never seen anything more erotic. 

Some of the guys I've been with, they've tried to pin me down. They wanted to box me into the details, the wheres and whens and hows of our togetherness, and it always pinched my nerves that they needed to map out a plan for feelings. Other guys, they seemed totally content to let me prance in and out of their lives, relieved that they didn't have to agree to future plans, no concert tickets for a show later that summer, no prom tickets months in advance.

His weight lifted, and his hand reached between her thighs, stroking and opening her. She felt a nudge, an adjustment as he aligned himself, then steady pressure at her entrance. He was so hard, his flesh like steel, but he was gentle and controlled, taking his time. She gasped as her muscles gave way and the broad tip pushed inside, stretching her, keeping her open. He held still, his hands stroking her hips and bottom. All her nerves tingled and sparked in anticipation, knowing how good it was going to be. She pressed back against him, and he sheathed himself in a slow, wet plunge, all the way inside, deeper than she'd ever been filled before. He went in at just the right angle, pressing where she most wanted. Her body gripped him, or tried to, except the invasion was so thick, her muscles only fluttered and throbbed instead of clenching down. She felt almost as if she were at the brink of release. And to her astonishment... she was. She was about to tip over into a sea of mind-dissolving pleasure. "Wait," she heard Keir say through the clamor of her heartbeat. His hands were on her hips, keeping her close and tight. For some reason it aroused her intolerably, knowing he was trying to stop her from climaxing. She tried to drive herself back on the hard shaft inside her, unable to get enough of its even though she was stretched to the limit. Raising up on her forearms, she writhed and pushed desperately against him. Keir's husky laugh caressed her ears as he leaned over her. He held her hips snugly against his, allowing only a sense of motion, a subtle grinding that wasn't nearly enough. Very gently, he closed his teeth on the side of her neck and soothed it with his tongue. "Tell me how good it feels," he whispered. Merritt fought for the breath to reply. "It feels too good. I want to come... I want to spend... oh, please, Keir..." "Spend," he repeated, and smiled against her shoulder. "I like that word for it." He withdrew just an inch, and rolled his hips upward. "Aye, I want your pleasure. Spend it all on me." She sobbed and squirmed, able to feel the motion of him deep in her belly, but it wasn't enough. "Harder. Please." The rhythmic drives grew longer, more aggressive. "No one else could ever feel this good to me," he said. "No other woman in the world. Only you." He reached beneath her to cup the round weights of her breasts, and began to pinch and tug at her nipples. Not sharply but not softly, the little flashes of discomfort somehow magnifying her pleasure. His hand slid down her front and between her thighs, finding the taut peak of her sex. The gently massaging fingers, the steady pumping, set off an explosion of pleasure that spread to every part of her body and kept unfolding and renewing itself. The release was so powerful, it left her dazed and too weak to move. She was only vaguely aware of Keir's climax, the quiet growl he pressed against her skin, the rough shudders that ran though him.

GV-26 Chinese Point name: Shui Gou;29 English translation: “Water Trough;” Special Attributes: It is the intersection point of the Large Intestine Meridian and the Governing Vessel. It is also listed as one of the 36 Vital Points in the Bubishi; Location: Below in the nose and a little above the midpoint of the philtrum; Western Anatomy: The superior labial artery and vein, the buccal branch of the facial nerve, and a branch of the infraorbital nerve are present; Comments: This point can be struck or pinched. In a situation in which it is necessary to control an individual GV-26 can be pinched between the thumb and the forefinger with great effect. A strike should be aimed upward at a 45-degree angle. This strike, if thrown with force, will also hit GV-25.

Conventional medical training had taught me that these pains were primarily due to a variety of structural abnormalities of the spine, most commonly arthritic and disc disorders, or to a vague group of muscle conditions attributed to poor posture, underexercise, overexertion, and the like. Pain in the legs or arms was presumed due to compression (pinching) of nerves. However, it was not at all clear how these abnormalities actually produced the pain. The rationale for the treatment prescribed was equally perplexing. Treatment included injections, deep heat in the form of ultrasound, massage, and exercise. No one was sure what these regimens were supposed to do, but they seemed to help in some cases. It was said that the exercise strengthened the abdominal and back muscles and that this somehow supported the spine and prevented pain.

Sofia just stared at me and I shook my head, turning back towards my door as Roxy mumbled something against my chest. “Forget it,” I muttered, my gut twisting as I failed him again. “You know,” Sofia said softly behind me. “Everyone says Darius Acrux is heartless and cold blooded just like the Dragon he turns into. But you’re not, are you?” I gave her a flat look over my shoulder but she carried on anyway. “You actually give a shit about other people, don’t you? You want to protect them, look after them…” Her gaze fell on the unconscious girl in my arms like that was proof and I growled at her. “Is there a point to your inaccurate analysis?” Sofia had the nerve to roll her fucking eyes at me. “I’ll message you my number. You can tell Phillip to message me whenever he likes.” I raised an eyebrow at her in surprise and she threw a final look at Roxy in my arms before turning and heading away from us. I unlocked my door awkwardly while still holding her and headed inside, kicking it closed behind me as I dropped her bag and crossed the wide space towards the bed. Roxy’s head lolled back against my shoulder and her hair hung over my arm. She was still soaking wet and I hadn’t realised how much she’d been shivering as I’d walked here but now I could feel the tremors of her body where it was pressed to mine. I quickly used my water magic to pull every bit of moisture from her clothes and hair then pushed some warmth from my body into hers. She drifted near to consciousness as she stopped shivering and shifted in my arms, mumbling something incoherent as she pressed her cheek to my chest. My heart thumped a little harder than usual and I cleared my throat uncomfortably as I lowered her down onto the bed. Her brows pinched and she started mumbling something again as I released her. I pulled her shoes off and tossed them on the floor and she kicked out at me, forcing me to step back. “I can do it myself, Darcy,” she muttered, still slurring. “You shouldn’t have to look after me like this.” Before I could stop her, she lifted her hips up, pulled her skirt off and threw it at me. She still hadn’t opened her eyes and I didn’t think she was really awake at all. The gold panties she wore matched the bra which I could still see as her buttonless shirt had fallen open. I tried not to stare at her, I really tried but I couldn’t stop looking at her bronze skin, her narrow waist, the swell of her breasts as they rose and fell in time with her deep breaths... Fuck it’s like someone picked apart my deepest desires and brought every fantasy I’ve ever had to life. Why did it have to be her? Why did I have to lust after one of the only people in the whole of Solaria who I could never have? I knew I was going to have to marry a Dragon Shifter one day but that didn’t stop me from having other women. But this one would never be mine in any way. She hated me more viscerally than I thought anyone else ever had. And I couldn’t even blame her. I’d hate me too if I was her. What we’d done to her, what I’d done... it was necessary but I still didn’t like it. I was supposed to be working with the other heirs to get rid of them and instead here I was protecting her like I'd lost my fucking mind. (Darius POV)

Just as I was pulling over he started shifting in his seat, and I glanced over to see him pulling a slim black wallet out. Jesus. I pulled over to the curb in front of the square white stone home. “Don’t.” His silence was deafening as he sat there, duffel on his lap, one hand on the car door, and the other holding a slim coffee-colored leather wallet. “I’m giving you a ride as a favor. I don’t want your money,” I explained to him carefully. He started to pull out a bill from his wallet regardless. “Hey, I’m not joking. I don’t want your money.” Kulti started to shove a fifty at me. “Here.” I reached up and cupped his hand, crushing the bill between us. “I don’t want it.” “Take it.” He pushed against me. I pushed back. “No.” “Stop being stubborn and take the money,” Kulti argued, his face exasperated. Well if he thought he was the only one getting aggravated, he was dead wrong. “I said no. I don’t want it. Just get out.” It was his turn to start with the one-word replies. “No.” Screw this. I put some muscle behind it and slowly started pushing our hands back toward him. Well I made it two inches before he realized what I was doing and then began pushing back, only he was stronger and he advanced more than two inches. “Quit it. I’m not joking. Take your money.” I grunted a little, putting more weight into my push, almost futilely. Those green-brown eyes flicked up to with an even look that had annoyance written all over it. “I said I would pay you—“ “I don’t want your money, you hardheaded ass—“ Oh dear God. I stopped pushing the second I realized what I said. It must have been so unexpected that he wasn’t paying attention because the next thing that I knew, he was punching me in the shoulder. It didn’t hurt at all. But for some reason, instinct had me saying “oww” anyway. We both looked like we’d violated the other. Like I’d backstabbed him for saying ‘oww’ and I’m sure I looked at him like I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to hit me. Sure it was an accident, and an accident that didn’t hurt on top of that, but… “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, looking down at his hand like he couldn’t believe what he’d done. I opened my mouth and then I closed it. Reiner Kulti had just punched me in the shoulder. I had driven him home, argued with him over how I didn’t want his money, and then he punched me in the shoulder. I closed my eyes, pinched my nose and burst out laughing. “Get outta here,” I said when I started laughing harder. “I didn’t mean to—“ I threw my head back against the headrest and felt myself shake with how stupid this was. “I know. I know you didn’t. But just get out, it’s fine. I need to get to work before you punch me in the other shoulder.” “This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “It was an accident.” Suddenly I stopped laughing and snapped right back at him, “I know it was, jeez. I was just messing with you.” I gave him a wide-eyed look. “A joke, do you know what that is?” I mean, I’d already gone for calling him a hardheaded ass, and he hadn’t thought twice about it, but that might have been because he’d punched me immediately afterward. “Yes, I know what a joke is,” he grumbled back. Whether it was because I was tired of this shit, his shit or whatever, I found myself caring less and less who he was and how I should probably treat him differently. Maybe not totally, but at least a little bit. “I’m happy to hear that.” I scooped the fifty bucks that had fallen on my lap after the meeting of his fist and my shoulder and tossed it at him. “I really do need to get to work though, so…” I tipped my head in the direction of the door at his side, indifferent to how rude I was being. Did he look confused that I was kicking him out? I think so but he didn’t argue, and he took the wadded-up money and held onto it as he got out of the car. Straightening up, he held the door in one hand and looked inside. “Thank you.” Finally. I blinked at him and nodded. “You’re welcome.” Just like that, he shut the door.

There is a silent scream, which tears through the veins, separating the muscles, pinching the nerves, yet the body seems to remain immobile.

My hair flips over my shoulders, and boobs hiding them some of my shy blush faces I remember it all, now A compounding ache nails at my fragile body into my young heart, and more cries drop onto my shirt and through me. ‘I’m still only yours.’ I scream in class as I run out the door looking for him, yet here am I, at this point, I don’t know. This is not my school and those girls are not my girls. I may be dreaming this yet I do not, I feel it all! Uniform though it’s a low-slung, protected whisper, it sounds loud in my ears, I hear the call-out within me, and it was him, yet through me, I never stopped loving him and only him. I want him to know that leaving him left me as broken as he still seems to be, even if I feel as if I have died every day, we have been apart. (Night in his room) Discovering everything with my fingers. But he’s not here I think yearningly. I run my hands over my boob, I do it all the same as always, pausing to feel the erect nipples under my timid, I softly circle my razed hands and then flat fingers over the hills that are the only mine, and touch the beautiful scratchiness within me like when he unzips me down there and blows on my belly and mon into it with every feeling. I pinch the strain that I have down there asking if it’s all good, ‘I don’t mind, he said.’ Like he was with my hair coming all around me and my body at that time it was down past my ass. Steadfastly, between my thumb and forefinger he plays with me and my hair and hands, the sweet biting and scratching as we do a thing in bed, a silent cry I might make for being happy, it makes me want more… and more what can I say I am a teen girl. Courageous now I slip my right hand into my sleep shorts, where I instantly, join with his body for sex. I never thought about anything, not even a condom, he can pull out. With my eyes shut I evoke his touch, running through me like come out of me, and whipping it with my undies that he keeps, my finger plummeting on his chest, when we ride for it, them into him sucking off slick and wet desiring as he having sex with me onto. With my hot breath, I can almost feel his teeth on my lady's lip, sucking my clit, my jaw, and his on my lid skin, the same with him. The other hand is working my left nipple and boob, massaging like his fingers down below, and squeezing them and there and shaking it some too, nerve-wracking my tender nipple, at this point from all the suckage.

The Bergen County Medical Examiner’s Office looked like a small elementary school. It was one level, red brick, right angles, and as unassuming a building as one could construct, but then again, what did you want in a morgue? The waiting room chairs were molded plastic and about as comfortable as a pinched nerve. Myron had been here once before, not long after Jessica’s father had been murdered. The memory was not a pleasant one.

In this regard, the delicate cell bodies, dendrites, and axons are like the many other fluid-filled tubes within the body. The quality of their function is susceptible to changes in pressure, distortion, viscosity. Their need for constant irrigation is acute: If fresh oxygen is held back from a neuron for merely three to five seconds, it is rendered completely unexcitable.4 And necessary substances must circulate inside the cell as well as around it. If a long dendrite or axon is pinched, closing its length off from the rest of the cell’s fluid, the excitability of the isolated branch quickly decays and eventually the pinched axon or dendrite will atrophy. You can park a truck on top of an electrical wire and it will continue to work nicely. It will work, in fact, until it is completely severed. In contrast there are many intermediate stages of malfunction in a nerve short of this final breakage—or lesion—most of them having to do with the relative effectiveness of the delivery and circulation of nutritional fluids and the adequate flushing of toxins and wastes. These intermediate malfunctions do not normally stop the system; they just make it less efficient. They confuse sensations, cloud thoughts, disturb the precision of our muscular efforts, make us numb in some spots, unaccountably sensitive in others, eliminate responses, force compensations. Insofar as effective bodywork can be of direct benefit to the circulation of bodily fluids, it can help to support the actual metabolic bases of nerve function, and this benefit is above and beyond the question of the value of any actual sensations it may produce.