The here and the beyond are enough, but there were a few angels for whom it was not enough: who demanded a third dimension--who sought fusions, communes, who ate each other and created sex.
...After you have done everything to please a man and he's taken his pleasure with you, all you are for him is a whore, and a whore's daughter.
Three Naughty French Novels
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...After you have done everything to please a man and he's taken his pleasure with you, all you are for him is a whore, and a whore's daughter.
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Can I kiss you?_ And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. __our kisses are like sugar woman._ He would tell her affectionately. __o sweet._ He would close in on her and then ask softly, __lease spend the night with me.
She liked his unique smell, and it turned on all five of her senses, wanting to see him naked, touch him while naked, hear him as he moaned while he made love, taste his skin, and feel his naked body as she seduced him with the trailing of hungry fingers.
Lift your hips for me, love.
Fate would never permit happiness to a man of such talent-a content poet is a mediocre one, a happy poet is insufferable.
it was dawning on me how uphill a poet's path was, and I confessed to her that if I had to be the choice between being happy or being a poet, I'd choose to be happy.