Sexual Intimacy Quotes

“Two married partners do not just live with each other, they live in each other, neurologically speaking.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Without attachment, a naked body is merely a lifeless sex-toy.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Bengal Tigress: A Treatise on Gender Equality

“Do not seek for the best partner, but seek for the person who makes you a better version of yourself.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Let me tell you a story. There was a student who asked his teacher, what is love? The teacher said go into the field and bring me the most beautiful flower. The student returned with no flower at hand and said, “I found the most beautiful flower in the field but I didn't pick it up for I might find a better one, but when I returned to the place, it was gone.”
We always look for the best in life. When we finally see it, we take it for granted and after some time start expecting a better one, not knowing that it's the best for us.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“When two people fall in love, they not only give up their genuine authority over their own lives, but also, they become mutual authorities of the collective life that they build together.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Marriage is not a competition. Marriage is completion of two souls.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“A healthy world is made of healthy nations. A healthy nation is made of healthy families. And a healthy family can only be raised on the foundation of a monogamous relationship.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Polygamy is a luxury of the cave-people, and monogamy is an existential responsibility of the civilized society.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Cheating is an innate evolutionarily programmed desire, especially in men, but it is not a desire that cannot be controlled.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“A healthy marriage acts as the vessel of wellbeing and stability for both partners as well as the children.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“I leaned back against him, my hair splayed out across his hard chest, my head resting on his shoulder, my throat exposed.
"You feel so good," he said, his breath hot on my neck.
It was pornographic, the scene we made. Me with my knees up close to my chest, my legs spread, his fingers still working on me. Somehow the fact that he was still wearing his jeans, that I could only see the outline of his knuckles through the thin cotton of my underwear, only made it feel more so. But it was a vulnerable position, too, the way I was so open to him, the rasp of his voice in my ear. When I came it was so sudden it surprised me, my body clenching around his hand even as I grabbed his wrist, holding him there until the last of the aftershocks rippled through my body.
Finally, his hand skated back up over me, leaving a streak of wetness on my nipple from where he'd been inside me. I watched Sam's profile from under my lashes. The way his mouth parted as he rubbed that wet nipple with his thumb, the way he bit down on his lower lip.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“Adjusting her legs, he opened her thighs so that she straddled him. Her pussy was directly over his cock, instinctively recognizing the appropriate sensual route, and she spread and slumped further, dramatically increasing the explicit contact.
Tugging at the belt at his waist, he loosened it, and pushed at the lapels of his robe, exposing only his chest.
"Touch me," he said and, when she vacillated, he gripped her hand and laid it over his heart, then rasped it in a slow circle. "Like this.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“A human is the one, who would give up a thousand Cleopatras to be with the person he or she loves.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Wise Mating: A Treatise on Monogamy

“Sounds Is Love of All, the World
Sounds create soulful existence,
When the oceans tide, it is sound;
When fervency of love creates sympathy of sobbing, sighing, jubilating, and tears drops, it’s a hymn of sound and presence.
When rains, it creates symphonies that therapeutic the body and mind, it is sound.
There is sound.
When sharing a glass of wine while looking at your significant other swallow its taste,
There is sound.
When night becomes morning, noise of the birds tweak, the dogs bark, pancakes sizzling on the pan, bees gathering for honey, it is sound.
There is sound.
When listening to music for a moodily Spirit, moving rhythmically to the music, it is sound.
When coitus makes quakes, it is sound.
In durations of lovemaking; the breathing, the objects banging, the thrusting, and the instrumental tones from the mouth, the kisses, the clapping and rubbing of flesh, it all surrounds the atmosphere, it is sound.
There is sound.
When love cuddles in your significant other sleeps, and hear breathing, heart beats, maneuvering, it is sound.
There is sound.
During intensity of love at its silence and loudest, there is sound.
As penetration of love goes deep and pulls out a sound of intensity opens and reactions follow, it is sound.
There is sound.
Beauty is the penetrating sound of the verses, the Psalms, the Proverbs, the Song of Solomon, the Gospels, and overall the Holy Scriptures spoken from a fervent tongue, power of thought, and sensible recovery from what aches, in all its sound.
Sound surrounds all ways.
It is sound.
Sound is therapy to the love and Spirit, a sound mind, in all, the world is sound.”
― John Shelton Jones, Awakening Kings and Princes Volume I

“Men DO NOT emotionally process love anything close to the way that women process love.
When expressing your sincere devotion and love for a man---the best way to say it, is to put on G-string panties, and then SHOW HIM with a swallow.”
― Nannette LaRee Hernandez, Men Only Want Sex and Their Freedom™

“There is no reason to hate anybody, because we came into existence, not by hate-making, but through love-making.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

“He cupped her buttocks in his hands, lifted her up, and guided her down over his shaft with a long sigh. When he was deeply inside her, their eyes locked.
Susannah's breasts slid against his chest, both of their bodies sweat-sheened, as she rose up again, knowing instinctively what to do. He smiled faintly, guided her down again. Which is when she saw his eyes go black again with desire and she exulted. She loved this power to give and take, this humbling exchange of strength and vulnerability.
"There's a place inside you, Susannah...," he said hoarsely. "Guide me. You'll know it when you feel it. I'll hold on to you."
So she lifted up again... and slid down again... and oh, he was right. There was a place.
She moved up over him again, with a sultry smile, enjoying this new knowledge, feeling that mysterious need escalating... she held it at bay for as long as she could. Which, as it turned out, wasn't very long at all. For her body took over, found the cadence it craved, and she began to ride him in an instinctive rhythm that grew ever swifter, and he held her, his hips thrusting up to meet hers.
The world became the harsh roar of their breathing, incoherent sounds of pleasure, softly groaned words of urging. Susannah could feel her release pushing, pushing at the seams of her, roaring through her veins like a river of stars, until it flooded its banks and burst from her in an exultant cry. The unthinkable pleasure of it rocked her, shook her like a rag; she trembled and trembled from it.
Kit held on to her, his own hoarse cry following, and she could feel his seed filling her as she breathed her exhaustion against his neck. Felt his chest heaving against hers as they clung together.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“The greater a woman's difficulty in reaching orgasm, the more likely she is to be concerned about the lack of dependability of love objects. She is concerned about how transitory relationships are and how easily loved ones can be lost.”
― Dr Seymour Fisher

“The author wishes to point out that following one's True Will results in forces (energies) being released in one's body and one's environment. These forces then very often trigger astonishingly powerful magickal results. In studying the lives of persons such as are mentioned above, one sees that through persisting in following one's True Will despite incredible odds, results are frequently obtained, first in attaining the security of having a roof over one's head. Then friendships can develop as well as sexual intimacy. One begins to develop self-esteem, as one is no longer living in constant anxiety and fear. As the magickian reaches upward toward self-actualization, he or she becomes more congruent, allowing for the effortless flow of the Singular Energy through him or her.”
― Laurence Galian, 666: Connection with Crowley

“Women know in their hearts that sex should mean something.
You decide: Should love be temporary, or forever? Should it be coerced, or freely given? Is it uncommitted, or faithful? Is it lifeless, or life-giving? Is it hidden, or announced to the world? If you believe that romantic love should ultimately be a life-giving public declaration of freely given faithful love that lasts forever, then you've just described marriage vows.
Therefore the question is not: "Should a dating relationship require more than sex?" but rather, "Should sexual intimacy require more than a dating relationship?”
― Jason Evert, How to Find Your Soulmate Without Losing Your Soul

“He needed Sarah's sweet courtesy, was desperate to suffer through her virginal oohs and aahs, to bask in her fascination. The feel of her smooth hands, with those slender, questing fingers roving over him, was like a healing salve to his battered body and spirit.
She amused herself with his chest, rifling through the springy hair, exploring the ridges and valleys until her maneuvers felt as natural as breathing, as though she'd touched him just so a hundred times before.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“Turn away, if you can. Return you will with hunger peaked and primed.”
― A.E. Samaan, Shades of Vanity - Shades and Shadows of Eroticism

“His hands, deliberate now, on a mission not to reassure but to arouse, roamed her body with shocking skill; his fingers knew where to stroke and linger, how to tease soft moans from her, to make her beg. He found and savored the curves of her breasts, the peaks of her nipples, cupped and explored the warmth between her legs, until she was supple and boneless, clinging to him. And then wantonly nearly climbing him.
Time dropped away. They sank together to their knees, mouths joined, his fingers twisting in her hair and plucking out pins as it loosened; he pulled her head back to take his kisses deeper, his fingers roving her hair. Her hands on him were careful, tender, over the bruises of his chest, over his arm where the knife had slashed him. Kit closed his eyes when she touched him, as though he could hardly believe the wonder of it, and then folded his arms around her and pulled her down over him, lowering himself to his back.
"Now," he urged on a soft rasp against her mouth. "I need you, Susannah. Please let it be now."
"Yes." A breath of a word.
He rolled over with her in his arms, covering her. She cradled him with her thighs, pulling him closer, and he lifted his torso up, fitted himself to her, slid into her waiting heat. There was a quick bite of pain; Susannah took her lower lip in her teeth to stifle a gasp. But then came the extraordinary feel of him filling her, and in so doing somehow touching her body everywhere. She watched Kit's eyes close when he was deeply seated; the intensity of his pleasure seemed akin to pain.
He was still, hovering over her; for a moment they savored together the miracle of being joined at last. He opened his eyes. So blue. Smiled down at her, crookedly, with quiet, rueful amazement. Pulled back, and thrust forward again, dipped to touch his lips to hers.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“He sat up suddenly, swept her into his lap so that she sat across his thighs, and breathed into her ear, touched his tongue there, traced the whorls of it. A silver-hot shiver of sensation coursed through her body.
"Do you like that?" he murmured.
"I don't know," she half-gasped. "It rather takes... everything over."
He dragged a single finger down her throat, over the fine bones of her chest, touched it to the stiff peak of her nipple. "Proof that you most definitely like it," he confirmed in a sultry whisper. She laughed a little, then stopped abruptly, because she needed all of her faculties to enjoy what he'd begun doing to her breasts with his hands.
And then they were quiet, and with a tacit sort of agreement, everything was soft as breath, delicate. With lips, and fingertips light as air, with breath itself, she caressed him, and he caressed her. She breathed into his ear, tasted the cord of his neck while his fingers gently, maddeningly, softly, played along her spine, her waist, her belly, the nest of curls between her legs, her throat, her breasts, as though he was bringing music from the most delicate of harps. Until every cell of her vibrated with desperate need. His breath was hot, then cool, in her ear. She finally gave up exploring him and submitted, hooking her arms loosely around his neck, selfishly wanting just to take the pleasure he could give.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“And this is how he made love to her: The overwhelming, aching tenderness, the desire and reverence, in his every touch, more eloquent, more profound, than words could ever hope to be. Susannah closed her eyes and only once murmured his name, floating in the center of a bliss that had edges of flame. His hands, his mouth, seemed everywhere, everywhere, from her shoulders, to her breasts, to the round curve of her belly, relentlessly knowing, sure and delicate, setting slow fire to every cell of her until she arched and rippled beneath his touch, until she was nothing but a creature made to be touched.
And then his mouth moved between her legs, and he parted her knees so he could taste the silkiest, most sensitive part of her. Her fingers gripped the coverlet as his tongue dipped, and circled, and savored, loving her, until her blood roared in her ears, until she was nearly sobbing from the pleasure of it, until she splintered into light and sensation.
Then, at last, off came his clothes, which he did as deftly as he did everything else, and his beautiful body hovered an instant over her. She surrounded him with her thighs, pulled him to her with her arms, took him into her body. This joining always seemed never to last quite long enough to Susannah, because she could never fully be part of him, but the finite nature of it made it all the more sweeter. And this was slow, slow, too, and his eyes never left hers; he burned his love into her with his eyes. He moved, inexorably to his own release, which came for him with a sigh of her name.
He kissed her. He turned over gently, with her in his arms. They held each other, face to face.
"That's how much I love you, Susannah," he whispered.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“Ten stories of stair climbing later, you knock on her door. And there she is. Now your heart aches. Now your pulse beats strong and fast. You wrap your arms around her and kick the door closed. You are home. You lift her to your hips and carry her to bed. You don't talk because you need her lips on your lips. You don't breathe because you need her breath in your lungs. You rip off her clothes because you need her skin on your skin. She has awakened something inside you---- something wild and forever.
When it is over---- and it is many hours before you both collapse from exhaustion, because you are a stallion in bed---- you lie under the sheets and hold her in your arms.”
― Sara Desai, To Have and to Heist

“Intimacy doesn't mean sharing nudity, intimacy means sharing vulnerability.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Yaralardan Yangın Doğar: Explorers of Night are Emperors of Dawn

“Slimness is not the same as fitness,
Skinship is not the same as kinship.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Mucize Misafir Merhaba: The Peace Testament

“He slid a finger down her folds. Her panting increased in volume. Her hip movements increased in pace as she chased his finger. He found her clit and circled it with his thumb, as he pushed inside her with his middle finger. Her inner walls clasped tightly on to the digit. He groaned at the heavenly sensation. He dragged his finger in and out, savoring the feeling. Her hips moved in tandem with the movement of his finger.
Her hold on his shirt tightened when he rubbed against a spot high inside her. Her hips bucked forward. A tiny moan slipped from between her lips before she pressed her mouth shut. Not on his watch. He wanted it all.
"Don't hold back. Tell me," he demanded.
"Feels so good," she whimpered, the fucking sexiest sound he'd ever heard.
"I can make it better."
He wedged another finger inside her. And pressed gently against her clit.
He swallowed her scream with his mouth. The kiss was wild, greedy. Lips, tongue, teeth sliding, clinging, giving, demanding pleasure. She tasted like heaven, offering all the sustenance he would ever need.
Her hips picked up speed. She was so fucking tight wrapped around his fingers. How good would his dick feel inside her? Incredibly, he got even harder. As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, her hands landed on the front of his jeans. She squeezed once, twice.
He almost detonated. "Sloane. Sweetness. Please."
She didn't need his plea. Instead, she pulled his zipper down and slipped her fingers inside. He didn't have the willpower to stop her. Her hand wrapped around his dick was so fucking good. She pulled up and down, exerting the perfect amount of pressure to have him gasping as pleasure sang through his veins.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“I'm going to devour every inch of you," he growled into her ear, setting her blood on fire, incinerating any incoherent thought she might have had left. "But first..."
His cock settled against the throbbing slit of her body, and Farah was only able to produce a mewl of demand before he found his way, and slid inside with a low groan.
Hot breath brushed her cheek, but they only touched where their bodies joined.”
― Kerrigan Byrne, The Highwayman