Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 224 of 344 · 20 per page

• From The Decameron (1353)

  They had already a pretty while enjoyed this satisfaction when it chanced that two young companions, named the one Folco and the other Ughetto, whose fathers were dead, leaving them very rich, fell in love, the one with Maddalena and the other with Bertella. Restagnone, noting this (it having been shown him of Ninetta), bethought himself that he might make shift to supply his own lack by means of the newcomers' love. Accordingly, he clapped up an acquaintance with them, so that now one, now the other of them accompanied him to visit their mistresses and his; and when himseemed he was grown privy enough with them and much their friend, he called them one day into his house and said to them, 'Dearest youths, our commerce should have certified you how great is the love I bear you and that I would do for you that which I would do for myself; and for that I love you greatly, I purpose to discover to you that which hath occurred to my mind, and you and I together will after take such counsel thereof as shall seem to you best. You, an your words lie not and for that to boot which meseemeth I have apprehended by your deeds, both daily and nightly, burn with an exceeding passion for the two young ladies beloved of you, as do I for the third their sister; and to this ardour, an you will consent thereunto,[233] my heart giveth me to find a very sweet and pleasing remedy, the which is as follows. You are both very rich, which I am not; now, if you will agree to bring your riches into a common stock, making me a third sharer with you therein, and determine in which part of the world we shall go lead a merry life with our mistresses, my heart warranteth me I can without fail so do that the three sisters, with a great part of their father's good, will go with, us whithersoever we shall please, and there, each with his wench, like three brothers, we may live the happiest lives of any men in the world. It resteth with you now to determine whether you will go about to solace yourself in this or leave it be.' [Footnote 233: _i.e._ to the proposal I have to make.]

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Agilulf, King of the Lombards, as his predecessors had done, fixed the seat of his kingship at Pavia, a city of Lombardy, and took to wife Theodolinda[155] the widow of Autari, likewise King of the Lombards, a very fair lady and exceeding discreet and virtuous, but ill fortuned in a lover.[156] The affairs of the Lombards having, thanks to the valour and judgment of King Agilulf, been for some time prosperous and in quiet, it befell that one of the said queen's horse-keepers, a man of very low condition, in respect of birth, but otherwise of worth far above so mean a station, and comely of person and tall as he were the king, became beyond measure enamoured of his mistress. His mean estate hindered him not from being sensible that this love of his was out of all reason, wherefore, like a discreet man as he was, he discovered it unto none, nor dared he make it known to her even with his eyes. But, albeit he lived without any hope of ever winning her favour, yet inwardly he gloried in that he had bestowed his thoughts in such high place, and being all aflame with amorous fire, he studied, beyond every other of his fellows, to do whatsoever he deemed might pleasure the queen; whereby it befell that, whenas she had occasion to ride abroad, she liefer mounted the palfrey of which he had charge than any other; and when this happened, he reckoned it a passing great favour to himself nor ever stirred from her stirrup, accounting himself happy what time he might but touch her clothes. But, as often enough we see it happen that, even as hope groweth less, so love waxeth greater, so did it betide this poor groom, insomuch that sore uneath it was to him to avail to brook his great desire, keeping it, as he did, hidden and being upheld by no hope; and many a time, unable to rid himself of that his love, he determined in himself to die. And considering inwardly of the manner, he resolved to seek his death on such wise that it should be manifest he died for the love he bore the queen, to which end he bethought himself to try his fortune in an enterprise of such a sort as should afford him a chance of having or all or part of his desire. He set not himself to seek to say aught to the queen nor to make her sensible of his love by letters, knowing he should speak and write in vain, but chose rather to essay an he might by practice avail to lie with her; nor was there any other shift for it but to find a means how he might, in the person of the king, who, he knew, lay not with her continually, contrive to make his way to her and enter her bedchamber.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  He was steadily becoming more crude and demanding. His impostor wife unconsciously edged forward a little to escape his hard thrusts, but he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, forcing her body back and obliging her to stay put unless she wished to suffer further pain. She cried out again, but he seemed not to hear her. If anything, he was becoming even more ruthless with each of her cries. She thrashed about desperately, trying to lessen the blow of each punishing thrust, but again, her attempts only incited him further. Tears streamed down her face as she was obliged to remain still and withstand the relentless onslaught. She hated Mr. Wolfe; though an irrepressible yearning possessed her in spite of her discomfort and anger. She wondered how Mrs. Wolfe was able to withstand this rough mating, even as she was reaching between her legs to enhance her own pleasure. She was slowly becoming conscious of her other senses, and particularly she was aware of a sound that had been echoing in her eardrums. It was a foreign sound, low and base and harsh; mere whispers and grunts but with the tone and inflection of longing and horror and shame. The disquieting sound had been echoing in her ears for some time now. But what was it? Suddenly she was filled with revulsion. It was her! It was the sound of her own voice, half whispering and half grunting out her surreptitious wish, again and again. “Harder,” she heard herself moan. “Harder, harder, I want it harder!” How long had she been repeating that shameful directive through her struggles and tears? How much more could she take? Yet even fully conscious of it she couldn’t seem to stop; she just kept choking out the words “Harder…I want it harder.” Mrs. Fox felt like a woman possessed. Her desire was controlling and overpowering her. Her initial horror over what she was doing had halted her sensations for but a moment, then they returned with twice the strength. She didn’t know what to do. She was terrified that it would end before she had had enough. “Please, oh, please,” she was begging and sobbing now, “don’t stop! You mustn’t stop.” Through her sobs she continued to pleasure herself, even as her poor aching body flinched and cowered from his fierce riding of her. And she realized that this was how she knew it would be with Mr. Wolfe. She could hardly account for her desire for him, but she still wanted more! She clung to the bed in an attempt to hold her ground against his pounding, and she knew now that it was she who egged him on with her frenzied mantra “Harder, harder.” She wished she could stop herself. This was madness. But even so, her trembling fingers kept rubbing and rubbing and her lips kept repeating, “Harder, harder, harder!”

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  * Hap a breakdown or something? ° inquired Puddle brightly, as at three o’clock Stephen slouched into the schaolroom. ‘ No — but Mrs. Crossby’s dog had a fight. She got bitten, so I drove her back to The Grange.’ Puddle pricked up her ears: ‘ What’s she like? I’ve heard rumours — ° ‘Well, she’s not at all like them,’ snapped Stephen. There ensued a long silence while Puddle considered, but con- sideration does not always bring wise counsel, and now Puddle made a really bad break: ‘She’s pretty impossible, isn’t she, Stephen? They say he unearthed her somewhere in New York; Mrs. Antrim says she was a music-hall actress. I suppose you were obliged to give her a lift, but be careful, I believe she’s fearfully pushing.’ Stephen flared up like an emotional schoolgirl: ‘I’m not go- ing to discuss her if that’s your opinion; Mrs. Crossby is quite as much a lady as you are, or any of the others round here, for that matter. I’m sick unto death of your beastly gossip.’ And turning abruptly she strode from the room. ‘ Oh, Lord!’ murmured Puddle, frowning. 5 Tuar evening Stephen rang up The Grange. ‘ Is that Upton 25? It’s Miss Gordon speaking — no, no, Miss Gordon, speaking from Morton. How is Mrs. Crossby and how is the dog? I hope Mrs. Crossby’s hand isn’t very painful? Yes, of course I’ll hold on while you go and inquire.’ She felt shy, yet unusually daring. THE WELL OF LONELINESS 149 Presently the butler came back and said gravely that Mrs. Crossby had just seen the doctor and had now gone to bed, as her hand was aching, but that Tony felt better and sent his love. He added: * Madam says would you come to tea on Sunday? She’d be very glad indeed if you would.’ And Stephen answered: * Will you thank Mrs. Crossby and tell her that I'll certainly come on Sunday.’ Then she gave the message all over again, very slowly, with pauses. * Will — you thank — Mrs. Crossby — and tell her- Pl] certainly come -— on Sunday. Do you quite understand. Have I made it quite clear? Say I’m coming to tea on Sunday.’ CHAPTER 17 I L; was only five days till Sunday, yet for Stephen those five days seemed like as many years. Every evening now she rang up The Grange to inquire about Angela’s hand and Tony, so that she grew quite familiar with the butler, with his quality of voice, with his habit of coughing, with the way he hung up the receiver.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  “If you don’t want your nightdress to be destroyed, remove it now,” the Beast said at last. His tone was matter-of-fact, but his manner was strained, as if he was struggling to maintain control. His voice was gruff, and so deep as to be barely able to transmit human language. His presence engulfed and overwhelmed me. His gaze hypnotized me. His breath burned me. There was nothing that I could perceive remaining of the mild friend I had shared so many suppers with. And yet, as I stared into the Beast’s eyes, mesmerized, a new sensation was rapidly creeping up from deep within me, mingling with the fear. Utterly motionless, except for my throbbing heart, I contemplated my predicament (meanwhile, as I stood pondering, the foregoing sensation persisted and grew, so that I felt strangely excited and excitable). In this state, I saw the situation only superficially, and reasoned to myself accordingly: What power had I to resist the Beast? Indeed, resistance seemed unlikely while the Beast stood towering ominously over me, silently waiting for me to obey his command. What he was capable of, were I not to comply, I didn’t dare speculate. The Beast who stood over me at that moment appeared ready to pounce at my slightest movement. And yet, vaguely, I suspected the Beast would make every effort to submit to my will, were I to try to escape him. All the time that I stood there deliberating, which seemed to me like hours, but more likely was mere seconds, I was plagued with that gnawing excitement that had been steadily growing within me, and haven’t I as much as admitted already that I was not desperate for the scenario to end? With a sudden motion, I hastily removed my nightdress, lest my resolution wane. I stood waiting with much agitation for the Beast’s next move, but he merely stared at me in silence for what seemed to me an interminable amount of time. I wondered if he could hear my frantic heart; its echo was thundering loudly in my own ears. The Beast slowly lifted his huge hand and lightly caressed my face. I gasped in shock when I felt it. It was so rough as to almost inflict pain with the slightest touch. The Beast’s eyes flared with momentary anger, but then quieted as he studied me with troubled eyes. “I do not want to hurt you, Beauty,” he murmured. “It is you who controls the destiny of us both.” I could not grasp the meaning of his words. His presence was slowly overpowering me, enveloping and entrapping me in its dangerous power. It seemed as if he were warning me of something. Had he said that I was in control? Should I stop him? I wondered. Could I still stop him? I felt too weak to move.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  A few yards to one side of her, Cinderella could make out the darker shadows of a forest. Thinking to hide in these woods, she warily took one step in the direction of the shadows. She stood very still for a moment and listened. Knowing that her husband was somewhere out there in the darkness, listening, waiting, preying on her, sent a sharp thrill right through her. She resisted the urge to bolt for the woods and very cautiously took another step. Again she listened but there was no sound. She lifted her foot to take yet another step toward the woods. But quicker than a wild beast, the prince had her, snatching her by the arm and pulling her to him, so that Cinderella came up against him quite abruptly. Before she even comprehended her situation enough to scream, he was crushing her lips with his. Her whole body shuddered against his, and feeling her tremble, he lifted his mouth from hers to search her face. In his eyes there was no more anger, only desire. Her eyes reflected that desire, so he kissed her again, but with much more gentleness this time. The prince moved slowly this time, first carefully laying out a place for Cinderella, then removing her clothes and finally, removing his own. He tentatively put his hands on her, at first simply touching her skin, and spreading out his fingers so she could become accustomed to his warm hands on her cool flesh. His hands roamed deliberately over her body, coddling and loving her first, then becoming more demanding as he rediscovered the places that brought him the most pleasure. He leaned over Cinderella and kissed the tips of her breasts as his hands moved over her belly and down between her legs. She arched her hips and moaned. But the prince’s hand suddenly became brusque and even offensive as he rubbed her brutally. Something in the back of Cinderella’s mind recoiled and then came alive. No; she would not let this opportunity pass away from her! She boldly took hold of her husband’s hand and stopped his thoughtless chafing. After a brief moment, having got his attention, she placed his hand correctly between her legs, pressing the tips of his fingers into that one particular place that she had always wished he would touch. She moved his fingers very slowly over her flesh in the way it felt best, and with just the right amount of pressure. She sensed his initial shock, but hadn’t he, too, shocked her on many such occasions? The prince allowed Cinderella to lead his hand, trying his best to halt his tendency to grab and plunge, and realized suddenly that he had only been making cursory efforts to touch her there in an attempt to get himself into her, and take her, like some rutting bull.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  “Well then,” he said with a smile. “Just so you know, if you’re going to have a fighting chance of getting any kind of declaration from me, you’re going to have to do it from over there.” He flicked his thumb in the direction of the oversize bed that stood in the middle of the room. Mouse bit her lip as she looked toward the bed. She had been thinking the very same thing. And why not? She would not mind sampling pleasures from the cat who had managed to get the best of her up to this point. Cat almost groaned out loud as he read her thoughts from the expression on her face. Perhaps he should have taken what he could have from her as his slave. But no, that would never satisfy him. He wanted this mouse forever as his playmate and rival. He stepped nearer to her and lifted her chin. His eyes locked with hers. Determined to win her heart he lowered his lips to hers. Determined to win the game she met his lips with fervor. Now she could at last give in to the desire that had been growing within her throughout their little game. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his. As long as she didn’t speak, everything would be all right. In one easy sweep, Cat lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He wanted to remove his clothes and feel her softness against his skin, but needed the advantage of remaining clothed for as long as possible. He also wanted her to be completely relaxed and at ease, so he prudently dimmed the light. He leaned over her on the bed and very adeptly removed the little ragged cloth she wore. Then he resumed kissing her, while his hands aggressively explored her naked flesh. Although his hands and lips were sending thrills throughout her body, somewhere in a far back corner of her consciousness Mouse could hear a repeated warning, but it was too distant to make out at first. As she struggled to regain control of her mind, it slowly occurred to her that she should not be passively allowing him to seduce her like this. She should be seducing him. After all, she didn’t just want to avoid losing the bet; she wanted to win. She wanted to see him on his hands and knees, groveling before her, just as she had been forced to do before him. She raised herself up and pushed her hands against his chest in an effort to force him onto his back on the bed. When he complied, she slowly began to remove his clothes. His body was so beautiful in its masculinity that she could not help but wonder if by undressing him she was not harming her own cause more than his.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  TWO YOUNG GENTLEMEN LODGE THE NIGHT WITH AN INNKEEPER, WHEREOF ONE GOETH TO LIE WITH THE HOST'S DAUGHTER, WHILST HIS WIFE UNWITTINGLY COUCHETH WITH THE OTHER; AFTER WHICH HE WHO LAY WITH THE GIRL GETTETH HIM TO BED WITH HER FATHER AND TELLETH HIM ALL, THINKING TO BESPEAK HIS COMRADE. THEREWITHAL THEY COME TO WORDS, BUT THE WIFE, PERCEIVING HER MISTAKE, ENTERETH HER DAUGHTER'S BED AND THENCE WITH CERTAIN WORDS APPEASETH EVERYTHING Calandrino, who had otherwhiles afforded the company matter for laughter, made them laugh this time also, and whenas the ladies had left devising of his fashions, the queen bade Pamfilo tell, whereupon quoth he, "Laudable ladies, the name of Niccolosa, Calandrino's mistress, hath brought me back to mind a story of another Niccolosa, which it pleaseth me to tell you, for that therein you shall see how a goodwife's ready wit did away a great scandal. In the plain of Mugnone there was not long since a good man who gave wayfarers to eat and drink for their money, and although he was poor and had but a small house, he bytimes at a pinch gave, not every one, but sundry acquaintances, a night's lodging. He had a wife, a very handsome woman, by whom he had two children, whereof one was a fine buxom lass of some fifteen or sixteen years of age, who was not yet married, and the other a little child, not yet a year old, whom his mother herself suckled. Now a young gentleman of our city, a sprightly and pleasant youth, who was often in those parts, had cast his eyes on the girl and loved her ardently; and she, who gloried greatly in being beloved of a youth of his quality, whilst studying with pleasing fashions to maintain him in her love, became no less enamoured of him, and more than once, by mutual accord, this their love had had the desired effect, but that Pinuccio (for such was the young man's name) feared to bring reproach upon his mistress and himself. However, his ardour waxing from day to day, he could no longer master his desire to foregather with her and bethought himself to find a means of harbouring with her father, doubting not, from his acquaintance with the ordinance of the latter's house, but he might in that event contrive to pass the night in her company, without any being the wiser; and no sooner had he conceived this design than he proceeded without delay to carry it into execution.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The lady, on her part, set out with her maid and repaired to her farm, where, as soon as the night was come, she made a show of going to bed and sent the maid away to sleep, but towards the hour of the first sleep, she issued quietly forth of the house and betook herself to the bank of the Arno hard by the tower, where, looking first well all about and seeing nor hearing any, she put off her clothes and hiding them under a bush, bathed seven times with the image; after which, naked as she was, she made for the tower, image in hand. The scholar, who had, at the coming on of the night, hidden himself with his servant among the willows and other trees near the tower and had witnessed all this, seeing her, as she passed thus naked close to him, overcome the darkness of the night with the whiteness of her body and after considering her breast and the other parts of her person and seeing them fair, bethought himself what they should become in a little while and felt some compassion of her; whilst, on the other hand, the pricks of the flesh assailed him of a sudden and caused that stand on end which erst lay prone, inciting him to issue forth of his ambush and go take her and do his will of her. Between the one and the other he was like to be overcome; but, calling to mind who he was and what the injury he had suffered and wherefore and at whose hands and he being thereby rekindled in despite and compassion and carnal appetite banished, he abode firm in his purpose and let her go.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The damsels, seeing the fish cooked and having taken enough, came forth of the water, their thin white garments all clinging to their skins and hiding well nigh nought of their delicate bodies, and passing shamefastly before the king, returned to the house. The latter and the count and the others who served had well considered the damsels and each inwardly greatly commended them for fair and well shapen, no less than for agreeable and well mannered. But above all they pleased the king, who had so intently eyed every part of their bodies, as they came forth of the water, that, had any then pricked him, he would not have felt it, and as he called them more particularly to mind, unknowing who they were, he felt a very fervent desire awaken in his heart to please them, whereby he right well perceived himself to be in danger of becoming enamoured, an he took no heed to himself thereagainst; nor knew he indeed whether of the twain it was the more pleased him, so like in all things was the one to the other. After he had abidden awhile in this thought, he turned to Messer Neri and asked him who were the two damsels, to which the gentleman answered, 'My lord, these are my daughters born at a birth, whereof the one is called Ginevra the Fair and the other Isotta the Blonde.' The king commended them greatly and exhorted him to marry them, whereof Messer Neri excused himself, for that he was no more able thereunto. Meanwhile, nothing now remaining to be served of the supper but the fruits, there came the two damsels in very goodly gowns of sendal, with two great silver platters in their hands, full of various fruits, such as the season afforded, and these they set on the table before the king; which done, they withdrew a little apart and fell to singing a canzonet, whereof the words began thus: Whereas I'm come, O Love, It might not be, indeed, at length recounted, etc.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  [106] Now the same judgment is to be formed about the end of society as a whole as about the end of one man. If, therefore, the ultimate end of man were some good that existed in himself, then the ultimate end of the multitude to be governed would likewise be for the multitude to acquire such good, and persevere in its possession. If such an ultimate end either of an individual man or a multitude were a corporeal one, namely, life and health of body, to govern would then be a physician’s charge. If that ultimate end were an abundance of wealth, then knowledge of economics would have the last word in the community’s government. If the good of the knowledge of truth were of such a kind that the multitude might attain to it, the king would have to be a teacher. It is, however, clear that the end of a multitude gathered together is to live virtuously. For men form a group for the purpose of living well Footnote together, a thing which the individual man living alone could not attain, and good life is virtuous life. Therefore, virtuous life is the end for which men gather together. The evidence for this lies in the fact that only those who render mutual assistance to one another in living well form a genuine part of an assembled multitude. If men assembled merely to live, then animals and slaves would form a part of the civil community. Or, if men assembled only to accrue wealth, then all those who traded together would belong to one city. Yet we see that only such are regarded as forming one multitude as are directed by the same laws and the same government to live well. [107] Yet through virtuous living man is further ordained to a higher end, which consists in the enjoyment of God, as we have said above. Consequently, since society must have the same end as the individual man, it is not the ultimate end of an assembled multitude to live virtuously, but through virtuous living to attain to the possession of God.

• From Fragments (7)

  First her hairs, which downward flow. Paint thou soft, dark-brown, unbraided; If thy wax so much can show, Let them be with perfume sated. 'Twixt her cheek and ebony hair Paint like ivory her forehead; 'Twixt her eyes paint not too rare Of her brows the hair nor florid. J25 Lyric Songs of the Greeks Let thy picture just as she Show her eye-brows well united; Only let this hidden be, Near the eye-lids barely sighted. Paint her glance like fiery flame, Like Athena's brightly gleaming; Winsome be it all the same. Just like Cytherea*s seeming. Paint her cheeks and paint her nose, Roses with white milk commingling; Lips so each like Pitho's shows E'er itself with kisses tingling. O'er her chin and marble neck Let all Graces seem to hover. For the rest, her body deck And with purplish garments cover. Yet a little let appear, Of her beauteous form a token. 'Tis enough: I herself see here. Soon, O wax, thou wilt have spoken. TO THE YOUNGER BATHYLLUS (i6) My friend Bathyllus, I beseech, Paint just as I thee now shall teach. Give to his hair a glossy sheen. And let it be all black within, 126 Anacreontea But at its edges sunny white. His noble locks do not bind tight: Though gathering each disordered curl, To flow at random them unfurl. Below his forehead soft as dew Be eye-brows dark like serpents blue. His eyes with black shall brightly glow, And yet complacent calmness show: A mixture of Ares, battle-lord, And Cytherea thus afford. The former shall inspire with fear, With kindly hope the latter cheer. His downy cheek paint thou like rose. So that it like red apples glows; A blush as though of modesty — I see thou canst — put on for me. As to his lips, I scarcely know What mould thou shouldst on them bestow. Well, let them soft and tender be. On them may we Persuasion see. Thus showing all these charms, the wax Doth speak aloud, yet voice it lacks. An ivory throat paint 'neath his face. More than Adonis full of grace. His hands, his breast, let them suggest The hands of Hermes and his chest. His abdomen like Dionys, Like Polydeuces paint his thighs; And then the parts that lie above Depict so that they challenge love. But how thy art is niggardly! I fain his back would also see: 127 Lyric Songs of the Greeks 'Twere better far to show that too, And not, begrudging, hide from view. Why of his feet shall aught I say? Whatever thou wilt receive as pay. Apollo, whom thou seest, take down. And with Bathyllus win renown. If e'er in Samos thou appear, Paint Phoebus like Bathyllus here. A LOVE SONG (17-18) Give me to drink, to drink give me, Of Bromius, women, ceaselessly: Already now I am moaning, .Overcome with heat, and groaning. To deck my head bring flowery wreaths Of vine; my forehead bums and seethes.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  I turned my head and gave a meaningless sigh. At that instant my unusually fevered breath became mingled with hers. My lips were covered by something heavy and greasy. Our teeth crashed together noisily. I was afraid to open my eyes and look. Then she grasped my cheeks firmly between her two cold hands. After a moment Chieko pulled away and I partially raised myself. There we were glaring at each other in the gloom. It was common knowledge that Chieko's sisters were loose women. Now I realized clearly that she must have the same blood in her veins. But there was an inexplicable and singular feeling of affinity between the passion that was blazing in her and the fever of my illness. I sat up straight and said: "Once more!" In this way we continued our endless kisses until the houseboy returned. She kept saying: "Only kissing, only kissing. . . ." I did not know whether or not I had experienced any sexual desire during those kisses. However that may be, since what is called a first experience is a kind of sexual feeling in itself, it would probably be useless to draw a distinction in this case. It was no use to try to single out from the drunken emotions of that moment the usual sexual element of the kiss. The important thing was that I had become a "man who knows kisses." And all the time that we were embracing each other I had thought of nothing but Sonoko, exactly like a boy who is served some delicious sweet away from home and immediately wishes he could give some to his younger sister. From then on all my daydreams were focused on the idea of kissing Sonoko. This was my initial and also my most serious miscalculation. At any rate, as I continued thinking of Sonoko, this first experience gradually became ugly in my eyes. When Chieko called me on the telephone the next day I lied and told her I was returning immediately to the arsenal. I did not even keep our promised rendezvous. I blinded myself to the reality of the fact that I felt unnaturally cold toward her simply because I had derived no pleasure from those kisses, and assured myself instead that they seemed ugly only because I was in love with Sonoko. This was the first time I used my love for Sonoko as a justification for my true feelings. Sonoko and I exchanged photographs like any boy and girl in their first love affair. She wrote saying she had put mine in a locket and hung it over her breast.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Snow White was positively trembling with shock and delight. “Choose your prince,” she heard one of them whisper close to her ear. But she remained silent, for she could not bear the thought of losing so much as one of the magnificent princes that stood before her. The princes did not question her silence. Instead, they knowingly removed their clothes, which had been all but torn to shreds in their transformation. Next, they set out to remove Snow White’s nightdress, and it quickly disappeared as a flurry of fourteen agile hands set to action. Relieved of the impediment of her gown, the hands were now free to caress her flushed, trembling body thoroughly, seeking out every curve and dimple and peak, and finding all her hidden places. The hands explored her fully, lingering here and there, but leaving no single part of her untouched. Meanwhile their lips devoured hers in turn. But the hungry mouths grew too impatient to wait idly for a turn at Snow White’s lips, so they sought out other places to kiss. Feverishly Snow White moaned and writhed as the hands and lips of the seven princes consumed every part of her. She shivered as she felt the sharp teeth of one prince nip carefully at her breast, while another prince gently suckled at the other. One tongue slid down the length of her belly as another wriggled its way into her body at the juncture between her legs. Another set of lips took hers in a deep and lingering kiss. Snow White was so overcome with excitement and desire that it was a struggle to keep breathing, and for a moment she feared she might lose consciousness. She floundered near delirium as she anxiously waited for what would come next. Perceiving her quandary and the remedy for it, the princes gently positioned Snow White’s body so that she could receive her first prince, a beautiful man with golden hair and eyes of the deepest blue. He kissed her tenderly as he slowly came into her. Snow White cried out in irrepressible ecstasy, utterly beside herself with the pleasure she felt. You mustn’t think that the other princes remained idle in the meantime. One prince held up her right leg while another prince held up her left. A third prince kissed her lips while two more kissed and licked her breasts. They all watched the fair prince take Snow White, patiently waiting for their own turn, and she had to close her eyes for a moment just to catch her breath. Just as Snow White was approaching the height of her pleasure with the gentle blond prince, the men who held her legs opened them wider and higher so that the prince could thrust himself deeper within her. This maneuver quickly had its effect, and all eyes watched the pair as they submitted to the last rushes of pleasure.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  But suddenly Cinderella desired her husband to join her in this pleasure. In her mind she had conjured an image and she wanted to experience it with her other faculties. So she took the prince by the hand and led him to their bed. Without a word she removed his clothing, leisurely enjoying his hard muscular form as she did, and then finally pushing him gently down on the bed. His body was hard and straining as he willingly complied with her will. She positioned herself beside him in an arrangement that left him no doubt what she intended. She rolled to one side and bent one leg enough to open herself to him, even as she took his entire hardness into her mouth. He clutched her buttocks in his hands and pulled her into his face, as his tongue easily found her tender pleasure spot and resumed its stroking. Cinderella had never enjoyed having the prince in her mouth quite so much. It had been tiresome, in the past, working over him, trying to please without knowing if she should go faster or slower, or when it was enough. Now she simply relished the feel of him in her mouth, and didn’t worry about how she performed, because she suddenly realized that it was all so much easier for him to enjoy. So she simply let herself get pleasure from him now, caressing him with her tongue and lips as she marveled at his male hardness. It made her feel exceedingly erotic, to simply suckle and leave it to him to move in and out of her mouth as he pleased. It sent thrills through her when his thrusts forced her mouth to open wider, or when she felt him pressing into her throat. And all the while he never stopped working her with his tongue, so she quite thoroughly lost herself in the sensations of having her mouth and throat opened wide and filled by him, while he kept feeding upon her private parts. Further and further Cinderella sank into herself, even as she experienced the most intimate joining she had ever shared with her husband. She simply lost consciousness of anything unrelated to her own sensual pleasure. Lips and tongues were for licking and sucking. Legs were for opening wide, so eager eyes could look inside. Skin was for touching; every part, every cell seemed to be screaming with a mounting pressure to reach that tingling release. This was, at that moment, what she was living for. It rushed toward her and enveloped her. Then in the next instant it was gone again. And yet there was a milder pleasure that lingered.

• From Fragments (7)

  Gently like a frightened fawn Newly born, a suckling tender. Through the forest which doth wander, When its homed mother is gone. 100 Anacreon TO A SWALLOW (69) Charming swallow, let thy sound Of sweet melody rebound. HIDDEN REEFS (70) O'er reefs beneath the waters buried By the swift wind my ship is carried. MIDST LAUREL AND OLIVE (71) A waving back and forth there is seen Midst dark-leaved laurel and olive green. THE COTTABUS GAME (72) In the Sicilian cottabus he dashes Out from his wrist the wine-drops with loud splashes. - GOOD AT QUOITS (73) Targelius says adroit Art thou to pitch the quoit. lOI Lyric Songs of the Greeks AT THE THALYSIA (74) In ofiering first-fruits of the harvest-yields He mocks again those with the dark-blue shields. PERSUASION (75) Nor had Persuasion, silver-gleaming, Ever before on earth been beaming. FEARLESS (76) Though with no bolt the double door he closes, Yet he in peace and quietude reposes. UNRELENTING (77) Unrelentingly Didst thou act toward me. A CHALLENGE (78) The one who likes to fight May fight — it is his right. 102 Anacreon DECEITFUL (79) A base deceiver he Of us would gladly be. STUNNED (80) And now my mind Is stunned and blind. DESPONDENCY (81) Would that I die: no other way I see That ever might me from these troubles free. DISHONORABLE (82) Dishonorable thus It is nor like to us. DEFAMED AMONG NEIGHBORS (83) Thou wilt give me an evil name, And midst my neighbors me defame. 103 Lyric Songs of the Greeks THE MISCHIEVOUS AND THE PORTER (84) With the porter at the door The mischievous are at war. MODEST STRANGERS (85) Ye seem like modest strangers who desire No more than shelter and hospitable fire. RETURNING FROM THE WASH (86) Up from the river everything Gleaming and shining- white I bring. LIKE A SPARTAN MAID (87) She, like a Spartan maid, Aside her tunic laid. MULES (88) Mules first by Mysian men, 'tis said, Were from mare-covering asses bred. 104 Anacreon ELEGIES NOT MINE IS LOVE OF STRIFE OR BATTLE (89) Him do I love not, who, at the wine-bowl sitting and drinking. Speaks of naught but strife, ever of tearful war speaks. But much more the one who mingles with gifts of the Muses Aphrodite's glad gifts, ever inspiring good cheer, IN SPITE OF MYSELF (90) 'Tis in no way to my liking, yet doubt I not to await thee. NO MORE VISITS (91) To that Thracian maid now no more visits I pay. EPIGRAMS AGATHON (92) « Agathon, terribly mighty, who died for his city Ab- dera, 105 Lyric Songs of the Greeks All his townsmen bewailed, when they his body did bum; For no other young man like him by blood-thirsty Ares Ever yet has been slain ih the dread eddies of war. TIMOCRITUS (93) This is the tomb of the warrior Timocritus, mighty in battle: Ares the best never spared, but spared the cow- ards far more.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  But this transference of my love to persons in a different a ge group was also related to a more fundamental change in the nature of my love. Just as before, I kept this new feeling hidden in my heart, but to my love for the savage there had now been added a love for the graceful and gentle. Along with my natural growth there was developing in me something like a guardian's love, something akin to boy-love. Hirschfeld divides inverts into two categories : androphils, who are attracted only by adults; and ephebophils, who are fond of youths between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one. I was coming to understand the feelings of the ephebophils. In ancient Greece a young man was called an ephebe from the age of eighteen to twenty, while receiving military training; the term is derived from the same Greek word appearing in the name of Hebe, daughter of Zeus and Hera, cupbearer to the gods on Olympus, wife of the immortal Hercules, and symbol of the springtime of life. There was a beautiful boy, not yet seventeen, who had just entered higher school. He had a light complexion, gentle lips, and perfectly curved eyebrows. I had learned that his name was Yakumo. His features appealed to me greatly. Without his being aware of it, he began presenting me with a series of gifts, each consisting of a full week of pleasure. The section monitors of the senior class, of whom I was one, gave commands by weekly turns at morning assembly, morning calisthenics, and afternoon drill. (This latter, as required in higher school in those days, consisted of about thirty minutes of naval gymnastics, after which we would shoulder tools and go to dig air-raid trenches or to mow grass.) My turn for giving commands came around every fourth week. Even our school, for all its fastidious ways, appeared to be succumbing to the rude fashions of the times, and with the arrival of summer we were ordered to strip to the waist both for morning exercises and for naval gymnastics in the afternoon. The order of events was for the monitor first to give the commands for morning assembly from the platform. Then when assembly was over he would give the command "Jackets off!"

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  She realized suddenly that she had paused in her own attack while trying to defend herself from his. She struggled desperately to gather her senses and concentrate on what had to be done. She grasped him with her lips, licking and sucking him furiously in an attempt to match the pleasure he was showering on her. He was taken aback by her vigorous assault, and his tongue paused as he tried to regain control, but only for a moment. They both shuddered and moaned from the pleasure they suffered at the hands of the other. But neither would allow the other to be satisfied, for that would render them powerless. Instead, they repeatedly brought each other to the very precipice of release and then stopped short, hoping that the other one would make the plea that would end their torment. Cat was so aroused that Mouse could taste his pleasure, which had been seeping out in small salty drops, the excess from that which had been building up within him and was now bursting to get out. Cat, too, when pulling away from Mouse’s tiny, aching membrane, would pause to submerse his tongue in her wetness, reveling in the effect he was having on her. She was so close, he knew. If he could hold out a little longer, he could enjoy these pleasures with her forever. But he realized he had to do something quick if he was going to win. He could feel himself losing control. Stopping abruptly to change his course of action, he raised himself up over her and spread her legs wide. Her cry, when he thrust himself into her, delighted him nearly to the point of surrendering to her then and there and confessing his desire to have her. He knew it was extremely dangerous, to take her this way when he himself was so excited, but it was his only chance. He was still physically stronger than her, even if she was his sexual equal. With that in mind he bit his lip and took the upper hand in the contest, forcing her excitement to grow. He placed his hand on the spot he had previously held with his tongue and rubbed gently as he drove himself relentlessly into her. Mouse was so close. Her face was flushed, and she was panting for air. Every muscle in Cat’s body strained as he struggled to maintain control, and all the while he watched her every motion with rigor. “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. The moment had come. He saw the vulnerability in her face as she approached her weakest point, and he hated himself for doing it, even as he abruptly stopped the motions that she now wanted more than ever and pulled himself all the way out of her.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  It took her body a few minutes to recover from the shock of the day’s upheaval, but finally, she began to lose herself in the princess’s softness. Pretty soon the two were just as engrossed in each other as they had been that night by the stream. Unable to endure being only a spectator for another moment, the prince gently pushed his wife away from her lover and knelt between the goose girl’s legs. He stared into his wife’s face. “Touch her.” His wife reached down and touched the goose girl uncertainly with her fingers. The prince watched her fingers play along her opening, and he pressed against them gently, forcing her to be more intimate. He bent over to kiss his wife’s lips as he did so. With his lips still touching hers, he whispered, “Tell me what she feels like.” She shuddered as a myriad of overpowering emotions clamored within her. Seemingly of their own accord, her lips whispered the true response to his question. “Soft, wet,” and after a short pause, she added, “warm.” He pulled himself away from his wife so that he was once again facing the goose girl, but his eyes never left hers. The goose girl watched them both with interest, opening her legs wide and moaning lightly. He said to his wife, “Open her for me.” The maid felt a momentary pang of jealousy. But in the next instant she thought, What right have I to be jealous, when I have taken all of this and more from the princess already? Furthermore, how can I feel jealous for one that which I love? For she realized that she still loved the princess, and silently vowed that she would never betray her again. Without further delay, the maid readied the goose girl for her husband’s entry. She trembled under the influence of the many sensations mingling within her, and at length she was aware of her own throbbing need as she watched her husband slowly take the goose girl to mate. The goose girl moaned as she accepted from the prince the same pleasure he had given his wife so many times before. The prince watched his wife’s face as she watched him, and it enhanced his pleasure. The maid could not take her eyes from the image before her. When she saw the goose girl’s flushed face she understood perfectly the pleasure she was feeling. And at last she was aware of how the goose girl had suffered because of her. Without realizing her action, the maid reached out her hand and touched the goose girl’s face, running her finger across her lips. Her hand slowly moved down, tracing the curve of her jaw and lower still, to caress a soft breast.

• From Post Office (1971)

  “Crazy bitch!” I said. She laughed and then we kissed, our heads moving back and forth. She began to sob again. I pulled back and said, “DON’T!” We kissed again. Then I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, placed her on the bed, got my pants and shorts and shoes off fast, pulled her pants down over her shoes, got one of the shoes off, and then with one shoe off and one on, I gave her the best ride in months. Every geranium plant shook off the boards. When I finished, I nursed her back slowly, playing with her long hair, telling her things. She purred. Finally she got up and went to the bathroom. She didn’t come back. She went into the kitchen and began washing dishes and singing. For Christ’s sake, Steve McQueen couldn’t have done better. I had two Picassos on my hands. 16 After dinner or lunch or whatever it was—with my crazy 12-hour night I was no longer sure what was what—I said, “Look, baby, I’m sorry, but don’t you realize that this job is driving me crazy? Look, let’s give it up. Let’s just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little. Let’s go to the zoo. Let’s look at animals. Let’s drive down and look at the ocean. It’s only 45 minutes. Let’s play games in the arcades. Let’s go to the races, the Art Museum, the boxing matches. Let’s have friends. Let’s laugh. This kind of life is like everybody else’s kind of life: it’s killing us. “ “No, Hank, we’ve got to show them, we’ve got to show them ...” It was the little small-town Texas girl speaking. I gave it up. 17 Each night as I got ready to go on in, Joyce had my clothing laid out on the bed. Everything was the most expensive money could buy. I never wore the same pair of pants, the same shirt, the same shoes two nights in a row. There were dozens of different outfits. I put on whatever she laid out for me. Just like mama used to do. I haven’t come very far, I thought, and then I’d put the stuff on.