16 Quotes About Smut

We tangle and merge. Love and let go. No one will ever know her like I do. I’ve touched every inch of skin. I’ve explored every part of her being. I love her shy when I pull her to my hips, my lap. I love her present uncertainty for things she knows how to do so fucking good. I love her pink flushed skin all over. Pella Grace

What did they want from it? Lechery, smut, confirmation of their worst suspicions. But perhaps some of them wanted, despite themselves, to be seduced. Perhaps they were looking for passion; perhaps they delved into this book as into a mysterious parcel - a gift box at the bottom of which, hidden in layers of rustling tissue paper, lay something they'd always longed for but couldn't ever grasp. Margaret Atwood

Please, ” I gasped out. He just brushed his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth.“ Tamlin, ” I begged. He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and he buried himself in me with a mighty stroke. For a moment, I was nothing, no one. Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again. I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength. For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room. I frowned as he withdrew at last–but he didn’t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts. . Sarah J. Maas

..apparently "London" gave out my address! that's what they're saying..not just London, though! Brazzaville, too! ..and said that I'm a dirty pornographer..a letch besides being the most despicable traitor of the century! .. I'd make a urinal blush! that what we need is to cleanse France and the French language of this smut-writing, demoralizing, grammaclast who's sullying our sacred homeland and its literary heritage! . Unknown

We did not go about this bride thing right. I do not think women are still used to being stolen as they once were.”“ Some adjustment is to be expected.”“ It is more than that. She keeps asking for things that I do not have–her Earth clothes and something called a cheeseburger, which I recall from the mini shows as being a giant food that women enjoy eating half naked very slowly.” Kyran thought of Eve’s beautiful legs. He would very much enjoy getting her a cheeseburger. Michelle M. Pillow

I was going to break from the inside out if he didn't bend me into nameless shapes C.D. Reiss

Clearly, you don't know much about horror, he said. Horror is premised on the experience of what we do not and cannot understand, whereas what you're talking about is mere low-class smut, which every schoolboy has encountered before he's in long pants. Paul La Farge

One may, in a case of exigency, introduce the reader in to a nuptial chamber, not into a virginal chamber. Verse would hardly venture it, prose must not. It is the interior of a flower that is not yet unfolded, it is whiteness in the dark, it is the private cell of a closed lily, which must not be gazed upon by man so long as the sun has not gazed upon it. Woman in the bud is sacred. That innocent bud which opens, that adorable half-nudity which is afraid of itself, that white foot which takes refuge in a slipper, that throat which veils itself before a mirror as though a mirror were an eye, that chemise which makes haste to rise up and conceal the shoulder for a creaking bit of furniture or a passing vehicle, those cords tied, those clasps fastened, those laces drawn, those tremors, those shivers of cold and modesty, that exquisite affright in every movement, that almost winged uneasiness where there is no cause for alarm, the successive phases of dressing, as charming as the clouds of dawn, –it is not fitting at all that all this should be narrated, and it is too much to have even called attention to it. Victor Hugo

I moaned then, tilting my head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on my waist, then moved–one going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us. This–this moment, when it was him and me and nothing between our bodies …His tongue scraped the roof of my mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of me, and I gasped, my back arching. “Feyre, ” he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark solstice morning. His tongue swept my mouth again, in time to the finger that he slipped inside of me. My hips undulated, demanding more, craving the fullness of him, and his growl reverberated in my chest as he added another finger. I moved on him. Lightning lashed through my veins, and my focus narrowed to his fingers, his mouth, his body on mine. His palm pushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and I groaned his name as I shattered . Sarah J. Maas

I believe that is what they call an erection. ~ Double Teamed Gia Blue

Tamlin let out a low snarl of approval, and I bit my bottom lip as he removed his pants, along with his undergarments, revealing the proud, thick length of him. My mouth went dry, and I dragged my gaze up his muscled torso, over the panes of his chest, and then–“ Come here, ” he growled, so roughly the words were barely discernable. I pushed back the blankets, revealing my already naked body, and he hissed. Sarah J. Maas

Barbara had really missed her calling. She should have been a gynecologist. Nothing pleased her more than having her face between another woman’s legs. Elysia N. Fields

When you look at me, tease my desire with a mere gaze, it shreds the edges of my soul… ~ Ripp Collins Yvonne Nicolas

Does he know you’re with me? Does he know about me? Does he know we fuck each other in our dreams every night? ~ Ripp Collins Yvonne Nicolas

When you look at me, tease my desire with a mere gaze, it shreds the edges of my soul… Yvonne Nicolas