Love

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.

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• From The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007)

  You see, Randy was the first person who really listened to me. I’d stay the night at his house. He’d sleep on the bottom bunk, and I’d be on the top bunk. And I would do most of the talking. Wherever I’ve gone in my life, I’ve usually done most of the talking. Talk, talk, talk, that’s me. So Randy and I would stay awake all night, and I would talk about the girls I loved. Some of you girls are in this room. You’re women now, and I’m still a little bit in love with some of you. Ha! No, I’m not going to say who. But, hey, none of you loved me back. Not as a boyfriend. So my heart was always broken. I would talk about you, the girls I loved who did not love me back, and I would cry. I would cry hard. Randy never made fun of me for crying. He would listen and listen and listen, and he would tell me that you girls didn’t deserve my love. He’d tell me the love of my life was somewhere else in the world and that she and I would find each other. Randy was only twelve years old, and he was saying that smart and romantic stuff. But he would also give me advice. He’d challenge me. This one time, he said, “Junior, you fall in love too easy.” And, oh man, he was right about that. The thing is, whether we were talking about basketball or girls or school or anything else, Randy was the first person who always, always, always made me feel loved. Made me feel appreciated. Made me feel understood. And yeah, in the meantime he was fighting and arguing with almost everybody else. With kids and adults. But he was always good to me. And so I started to believe that I was good. I started to believe I was great. More than that, I started to believe that a little Indian boy like me could compete against white people. Do you remember how it felt to be so Indian and so poor and so powerless? And it felt like you would lose to white people? That you’d always lose to white people? Well, Randy didn’t believe that. And he wouldn’t let me believe it, either. He wouldn’t let me believe I was inferior to white people. Or to other Indians. Randy had so much faith in me. It was amazing. And it feels weird to say this. It sounds hurtful, maybe. But I think Randy’s faith in me gave me the faith to leave the reservation school and transfer to Reardan. I think about my older son. He was really sick when he was born, and he needed a lot of speech therapy and physical therapy as he grew older. For a few years, he did hippotherapy. I know that sounds like he rode hippos. Ha!

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  But when I drew nearer, to view the sleeping estray, heavens! what a sight! No! term of years, no turn of fortune could ever eraze the lightninglike impression his form made on me. Yes! dearest object of my earliest passion, I command for ever the remembrance of thy first appearance to my ravished eyes, it calls thee up, present; and I see thee now. Figure to yourself, Madam, fair stripling between eighteen and nineteen, with his head reclined on one of the sides of the chair, his hair disordered curls, irregularly shading a face, on which all the roseate bloom of youth and all the manly graces conspired to fix my eye sand heart; even the languour and paleness of his face, in which the momentary triumph of the lily over the rose was owing to the excesses of the night, gave an inexpressible sweetness to the finest features imaginable: his eyes, closed in sleep, displayed the meeting edges of their lids beautifully bordered with long eye-lashes; over which no pencil could have described two more regular arches than those that graced his forehead, which was high, perfectly white and smooth; then a pair of vermilion lips, pouting and swelling to the touch, as if a bee had freshly stung them, seemed to challenge me to get the gloves off this lovely sleeper, had not the modesty and respect, which in both sexes are inseparable from a true passion, checked my impulses. But on seeing his shirt collar unbottoned, and bosom whiter than a drift of snow, the pleasure of considering it could not bribe me to lengthen it, at the hazard of a health that began to be my life’s concern. Love, that made me timid, taught me to be tender too: with a trembling hand I took hold of one of his, and waking him as gently as possible, he started, and looking, at first a little wildly, said with a voice that sent its harmonious sound to my heart: “Pray, child, what-a-clock is it?” I told him, and added that he might catch cold if he slept longer with his breast open in the cool of the morning air. On this he thanked me with a sweetness perfectly agreeing with that of his features and eyes; the last now broad open, and eagerly surveying me, carried the surightly fires they sparkled with directly to my heart.

• From The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007)

  Drunk for a week, my father must have really wanted to spend those last five dollars. Shoot, you can buy a bottle of the worst whiskey for five dollars. He could have spent that five bucks and stayed drunk for another day or two. But he saved it for me. It was a beautiful and ugly thing. “Thanks, Dad,” I said. He was asleep. “Merry Christmas,” I said, and kissed him on the cheek. Red Versus White [image file=image_rsrc4RJ.jpg] You probably think I’ve completely fallen in love with white people and that I don’t see anything good in Indians. Well, that’s false. I love my big sister. I think she’s double crazy and random. Ever since she moved, she’s sent me all these great Montana postcards. Beautiful landscapes and beautiful Indians. Buffalo. Rivers. Huge insects. Great postcards. She still can’t find a job, and she’s still living in that crappy little trailer. But she’s happy and working hard on her book. She made a New Year’s resolution to finish her book by summertime. Her book is about hope, I guess. I think she wants me to share in her romance. I love her for that. And I love my mother and father and my grandma. Ever since I’ve been at Reardan, and seen how great parents do their great parenting, I realize that my folks are pretty good. Sure, my dad has a drinking problem and my mom can be a little eccentric, but they make sacrifices for me. They worry about me. They talk to me. And best of all, they listen to me. I’ve learned that the worst thing a parent can do is ignore their children. And, trust me, there are plenty of Reardan kids who get ignored by their parents. There are white parents, especially fathers, who never come to the school. They don’t come for their kids’ games, concerts, plays, or carnivals. I’m friends with some white kids, and I’ve never met their fathers. That’s absolutely freaky. On the rez, you know every kid’s father, mother, grandparents, dog, cat, and shoe size. I mean, yeah, Indians are screwed up, but we’re really close to each other. We KNOW each other. Everybody knows everybody. But despite the fact that Reardan is a tiny town, people can still be strangers to each other. I’ve learned that white people, especially fathers, are good at hiding in plain sight. I mean, yeah, my dad would sometimes go on a drinking binge and be gone for a week, but those white dads can completely disappear without ever leaving the living room. They can just BLEND into their chairs. They become their chairs. So, okay, I’m not all goofy-eyed in love with white people, all right? Plenty of the old white guys still give me the stink eye just for being Indian. And a lot of them think I shouldn’t be in the school at all. I’m realistic, okay?

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Here, however, under the wings of my sovereignly beloved, did the most delicious hours of my life flow on; my Charles I had, and, in him, every thing my fond heart could wish or desire. He carried me to plays, operas, masquerades, and every diversion of the town; all which pleased me, indeed, but pleased me infinitely the more for his being with me, and explaining every thing to me, and enjoying perhaps, the natural impressions of surprise and admiration, which such sights, at the first, never fail to excite in a country girl, new to the delights of them; but to me, they sensibly proved the power and dominion of the sole passion of my heart over me, a passion in which soul and body were concentered, and left me no room for any other relish of life but love. As to the men I saw at those places, or at any other, they suffered so much in the comparison my eyes made of them with my all-perfect Adonis, that I had not the infidelity even of one wandering thought to reproach myself with upon his account. He was the universe to me, and all that was not him, was nothing to me. My love, in fine, was so excessive, that is arrived at annihilating every suggestion or kindling spark of jealousy; for, one idea only, tending that way, gave me such exquisite torment, that my self-love, and dread of worse than death, made me for ever renounce and defy it: nor had I, indeed, occasion; for, were I to enter here on the recital of several instances wherein Charles sacrificed to me women of much greater importance than I dare hint (which, considering his form, was no such wonder), I might, indeed, give you full proof of his unshaken constancy to me; but would not you accuse me of warming up against a feast, which my vanity ought long ago to have been satisfied with? In our cessations from active pleasure, Charles framed himself one, in instructing me, as far as his own lights reached, in a great many points of life, that I was, in consequence of my no-education, perfectly ignorant of: nor did I suffer one word to fall in vain from the mouth of my lovely teacher: I hung on every syllable he uttered, and received, as oracles, all he said; whilst kisses were all the interruption I could not refuse myself the pleasure of admitting, from lips that breathed more than Arabian sweetness, I was in a little time enabled, by the progress I had made, to prove the deep regard I had paid to all that he had said to me: repeating it to him almost word for word; and to shew that I was not entirely the parrot, but that I reflected upon, that I entered into it, I joined my own comments, and asked him questions of explanation.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  When I recovered my senses, I found myself undressed and a-bed, in the arms of the sweet relenting murderer of my virginity, who hung mourning tenderly over me, and holding in his hand a cordial, which, coming from the still dear author of so much pain, I could not refuse; my eyes, however, moistened with tears, and languishingly turned upon him, seemed to reproach him with his cruelty, and ask him, if such were the rewards of love. But Charles, to whom I was now infinitely endeared by his complete triumph over a maidenhead, where he so little expected to find one, in tenderness to that pain which he had put me to, in procuring himself the height of pleasure, smothered his exultation, and employed himself with so much sweetness, so much warmth, to sooth, to caress, and comfort me in my soft complainings, which breathed, indeed, more love than resentment, that I presently drowned all sense of pain in the pleasure of seeing him, of thinking that I belonged to him: he who was now the absolute disposer of my happiness, and, in one word, my fate. The sore was, however, too tender, the wound too bleeding fresh, for Charles’s good-nature to put my patience presently to another trial; but as I could not stir, or walk a-cross the room, he ordered the dinner to be brought to the bed side, where it could not be otherwise than my getting down the wing of a fowl, and two or three glasses of wine, since it was my adored youth who both served, and urged them on me, with that sweet irresistible authority with which love had invested him over me. After dinner, and everything but the wine was taken away, Charles very impudently asks a leave, he might read the grant of in my eyes, to come to bed to me, and accordingly falls to undressing; which I could not see the progress of without strange emotions of fear and pleasure. He is now in bed with me the first time, and in broad day; but when thrusting up his own shirt and my shift, he laid his naked glowing body to mine... oh insupportable delight! oh! superhuman rapture! what pain could stand before a pleasure so transporting? I felt no more the smart of my wounds below; but, curling round him like the tendril of a vine, as if I feared any part of him should be untouched or unpressed by me, I returned his strenuous embraces and kisses with a fervour and gust only known to true love, and which mere lust never rise to.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Hear then, Madame, of the one deliberate fault with which I have to reproach myself.... What am I saying, a fault? It was a folly, an extravagance... there has never been one to equal it; but at least it is not a crime, it is merely a mistake, for which I alone have been punished, and of which it surely does not seem that the equitable hand of Heaven had to make use in order to plunge me into the abyss which yawned beneath me soon afterward. Whatever the foul treatment to which the Comte de Bressac had exposed me the first day I had met him, it had, all the same, been impossible to see him so frequently without feeling myself drawn toward him by an insuperable and instinctive tenderness. Despite all my recollections of his cruelty, all my thoughts upon his disinclinations toward women, upon the depravity of his tastes, upon the gulf which separated us morally, nothing in the world was able to extinguish this nascent passion, and had the Count called upon me to lay down my life, I would have sacrificed it for him a thousand times over. He was far from suspecting my sentiments... he was far, the ungrateful one, from divining the cause of the tears I shed every day; nevertheless, it was out of the question for him to be in doubt of my eagerness to fly to do his every bidding, to please him in every possible way, it could not have been he did not glimpse, did not have some inkling of my attentions; doubtless, because they were instinctive, they were also mindless, and went to the point of serving his errors, of serving them as far as decency permitted, and always of hiding them from his aunt. This behavior had in some sort won me his confidence, and all that came from him was so precious to me, I was so blinded by the little his heart offered me, that I sometimes had the weakness to believe he was not indifferent to me. But how promptly his excessive disorders disabused me: they were such that even his health was affected. I several times took the liberty to represent to him the dangers of his conduct, he would hear me out patiently, then end by telling me that one does not break oneself of the vice he cherished.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  My love, in fine, was so excessive, that is arrived at annihilating every suggestion or kindling spark of jealousy; for, one idea only, tending that way, gave me such exquisite torment, that my self-love, and dread of worse than death, made me for ever renounce and defy it: nor had I, indeed, occasion; for, were I to enter here on the recital of several instances wherein Charles sacrificed to me women of much greater importance than I dare hint (which, considering his form, was no such wonder), I might, indeed, give you full proof of his unshaken constancy to me; but would not you accuse me of warming up against a feast, which my vanity ought long ago to have been satisfied with? In our cessations from active pleasure, Charles framed himself one, in instructing me, as far as his own lights reached, in a great many points of life, that I was, in consequence of my no-education, perfectly ignorant of: nor did I suffer one word to fall in vain from the mouth of my lovely teacher: I hung on every syllable he uttered, and received, as oracles, all he said; whilst kisses were all the interruption I could not refuse myself the pleasure of admitting, from lips that breathed more than Arabian sweetness, I was in a little time enabled, by the progress I had made, to prove the deep regard I had paid to all that he had said to me: repeating it to him almost word for word; and to shew that I was not entirely the parrot, but that I reflected upon, that I entered into it, I joined my own comments, and asked him questions of explanation. My country accent, and the rusticity of my gait, manners, and deportment, began now sensibly to wear off: so quick was my observation, and so efficacious my desire of growing every day worthier of his heart. As to money, though, he brought me constantly all he received, it was with difficulty he even got me to give it room in my bureau; and what clothes I had, he could prevail on me to accept of on no other foot, than that of pleasing him by the greater neatness in my dress, beyond which I had no ambition.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Had those of the house had the least observations on me, they must have remarked something extraordinary from the discomposure I could not help betraying; especially when at dinner mention was made of the charmingest youth having been there, and stayed breakfast. “Oh! he was such a beauty!... I should have died for him!... they would pull caps for him!...” and the like fooleries; which, however, was throwing oil on a fire I was sorely put to it to smother the blaze of. The fluctuations of my mind, the whole day, produced one good effect: which was, that, through mere fatigue, I slept tolerably well till five in the morning, when I got up, and having dressed myself, waited, under the double tortures of fear and impatience, for the appointed hour. It came at last, the dear, critical, dangerous hour came; and now, supported only by the courage love lent me, I ventured, a tip-toe, down stairs, leaving my box behind, for fear of being surprized with it in going out. I got to the street door, the key whereof was always laid on the chair by our bed side, in trust with Phœbe, who having not the least suspicion of my entertaining any design to go from them (nor, indeed, had I, but the day before), made no reserve or concealment of it from me. I opened the door with great ease; love, that emboldened, protected me too: and now, got safe into the street, I saw my new guardian angel waiting at a coach door, ready open. How I got to him I know not: I suppose I flew; but I was in the coach in a trice, and he by the side of me, with his arms clasped round me, and giving me the kiss of welcome. The coachman had his orders, and drove to them. My eyes were instantly filled with tears, but tears of the most delicious delight; to find myself in the arms of that beauteous youth, was a rapture that my little hear swam in; past or future were equally out of the question with me; the present was as much as all my powers of life were sufficient to bear the transport of, without fainting. Nor were the most tender embraces, the most soothing expressions wanting on his side, to assure me of his love, and of never giving me cause to repent the bold step I had taken, in throwing myself thus entirely upon his honour and generosity. But, alas! this was no merit in me, for I was drove to it by a passion too impetuous for me to resist, and, I did what I did, because I could not help it. In an instant, for time was now annihilated with me, we were landed at a public house in Chelsea, hospitably commodious for the reception of duet parties of pleasure, where a breakfast of chocolate was prepared for us.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  And here, Madam, I ought, perhaps, to make you an apology for this minute detail of things, that dwelt so strongly upon my memory, after so deep an impression; but, besides that this intrigue bred one great revolution in my life, which historical truth requires I should not sink from you, may I not presume that so exalted a pleasure ought not to be ungratefully forgotten, or suppressed by me, because I found it in a character in low life; where, by the by, it is oftener met with, purer, and more unsophisticated, than among the false, ridiculous refinements with which the great suffer themselves to be so grossly cheated by their pride: the great! than whom, there exist few amongst those they call the vulgar, who are more ignorant of, or who cultivate less, the art of living than they do; they, I say, who for ever mistake things the most foreign to the nature of pleasure itself; whose capital favourite object is enjoyment of beauty, wherever that rare invaluable gift is found, without distinction of birth, or station. As love never had, so now revenge had no longer any share in my commerce in this handsome youth. The sole pleasures of enjoyment were now the link I held to him by: for though nature had done such great maters for him in his outward form, and especially in that superb piece of furniture she had so liberally enriched him with; though he was thus qualified to give the senses their richest feast, still there was something more wanting to create in me, and constitute the passion of love. Yet Will had very good qualities too: gentle, tractable, and, above all, grateful; silentious, even to a fault: he spoke, at any time, very little, but made it up emphatically with action; and, to do him justice, he never gave me the least reason to complain, either of any tendency to encroach upon me for the liberties I allowed him, or of his indiscretion in blabbing them. There is, then, a fatality in love, or have loved him I must; for he was really a treasure, a bit for the Bonne Bouche of a duchess; and, to say the truth, my liking for him was so extreme, that it was distinguishing very nicely to deny that I loved him.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  There can be no limit to my power over you. Remember, that you won’t be much better than a dog, or some inanimate object. You will be mine, my plaything, which I can break to pieces, whenever I want an hour’s amusement. You are nothing, I am everything. Do you understand?” She laughed and kissed me again, and yet a sort of cold shiver ran through me. “Won’t you allow me a few conditions—” I began. “Conditions?” She contracted her forehead. “Ah! You are afraid already, or perhaps you regret, but it is too late now. You have sworn, I have your word of honor. But let me hear them.” “First of all I should like to have it included in our contract, that you will never completely leave me, and then that you will never give me over to the mercies of any of your admirers—” “But Severin,” exclaimed Wanda with her voice full of emotion and with tears in her eyes, “how can you imagine that I—and you, a man who loves me so absolutely, who puts himself so entirely in my power—” She halted. “No, no!” I said, covering her hands with kisses. “I don’t fear anything from you that might dishonor me. Forgive me the ugly thought.” Wanda smiled happily, leaned her cheek against mine, and seemed to reflect. “You have forgotten something,” she whispered coquettishly, “the most important thing!” “A condition?” “Yes, that I must always wear my furs,” exclaimed Wanda. “But I promise you I’ll do that anyhow because they give me a despotic feeling. And I shall be very cruel to you, do you understand?” “Shall I sign the contract?” I asked. “Not yet,” said Wanda. “I shall first add your conditions, and the actual signing won’t occur until the proper time and place.” “In Constantinople?” “No. I have thought things over. What special value would there be in owning a slave where everyone owns slaves. What I want is to have a slave, I alone, here in our civilized sober, Philistine world, and a slave who submits helplessly to my power solely on account of my beauty and personality, not because of law, of property rights, or compulsions. This attracts me. But at any rate we will go to a country where we are not known and where you can appear before the world as my servant without embarrassment.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Brown did not soon provide me with the essential specific. In short, I had all the air of not being able to wait the arrival of my lord B——, though he was now expected in a very fews days: nor did I wait for him, for love itself took charge of the disposal of me, in spite of interest, or gross lust. It was now two days after the closet scene, that I got up about six in the morning, and leaving my bedfellow fast asleep, stole down, with no other thought than of taking a little fresh air in a small garden, which our back parlour opened into, and from which my confinement debarred me, at the times company came to my house; but now sleep and silence reigned all over it. I opened the parlour door, and well surprised was I at seeing, by the side of a fire half-out, a young gentleman in the old lady’s elbow chair, with his legs laid upon another, fast asleep, and left there by his thoughtless companions, who had drank him down, and then went off with every one but his mistress, whilst he stayed behind by the courtesy of the old matron, who would not disturb or turn him out in that condition at one in the morning; and beds, it is more than probable there were none to spare. On the table still remained the punch bowl and glasses, stewed about in their usual disorder after a drunken revel. But when I drew nearer, to view the sleeping estray, heavens! what a sight! No! term of years, no turn of fortune could ever eraze the lightninglike impression his form made on me. Yes! dearest object of my earliest passion, I command for ever the remembrance of thy first appearance to my ravished eyes, it calls thee up, present; and I see thee now.

• From Manhunt (2022)

  She slipped inside at the other woman’s husky “Beth?” and saw Indi sit up in her bed, huge shoulders naked and smooth in the moonlight, ribbed green bedspread held to her breast with one hand. “What is it? Is something wrong?” “No,” said Beth. “Can I sit?” Indi patted the edge of the bed and Beth sank down, one leg under her and one still touching the warped floorboards. “I’ve been running around after Fran for three years,” she said, tearing up the moment she began to speak. “I kept thinking I was in love with her. Maybe I was. Am. But I think mostly I just wanted her to … make me real, the way you’re real when the beautiful people look at you, and talk to you, and let you fuck them. “And then Corinne took me into the woods, and I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d die out there without even getting to say goodbye.” She let out a little sob, then held up a finger to silence Indi as the other woman opened her mouth, probably to say something comforting. “Let me finish, or I’ll never get it out.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you, Indi, and I want to go where you go, whether it’s here or wherever, and rub your stupid tiny feet and fuck you every fucking day.” She stammered to a halt, unable to meet Indi’s eyes, unable to think anything but that she’d broken the rule. She’d offered herself as though someone might want her, as though she didn’t have to wait to be asked before her touch transmuted from invasion to caress. And then Indi’s arms were around her and she was falling back into the tangled sheets and blankets under the other woman’s soft, enveloping weight. Indi’s lips found hers. Their teeth clicked awkwardly together for a moment before their tongues met, gliding over bone and the soft ridges of their palates. Beth gripped fistfuls of Indi’s sides. She twisted and pressed her lips to the older woman’s neck, running her tongue along the velvet crease where it met her buried collarbones. You feel so good, she thought, palming one of Indi’s breasts and tweaking the dark nipple between thumb and forefinger. It stiffened. A muffled groan against her shoulder. I don’t care if you love me, as long as I get to be with you. Indi pushed two fingers past her lips and Beth’s eyelids fluttered with the sleepy ecstasy of that sense of fullness. In and out. Drool running down her chin as she moved to follow Indi’s hand, to prolong the slow fucking of her mouth. Her breath came in shallow pants.

• From The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007)

  How does one author touch so many different people at so many different points in their lives? Alexie’s brilliance lies in his ability to speak truth to power with humor, grace, and love. He loves the characters he brings to the page, and, by extension, we fall in love with them, too. Two pages in, I told my son we could move on to his comic book if he wanted. “Nah,” he said. “Keep reading.” After a moment, he smiled and said, “I think this book is going to be good.” We read long past his bedtime. For me, moving back into Junior’s world felt like visiting an old friend. For my son and for so many of you coming to this story for the first time, I know this book will be revisited often and, most of all, loved deeply. —Jacqueline Woodson There is another world, but it is in this one. W.B. Yeats The Black-Eye-of-the-Month Club [image file=image_rsrc4RJ.jpg] I was born with water on the brain. Okay, so that’s not exactly true. I was actually born with too much cerebral spinal fluid inside my skull. But cerebral spinal fluid is just the doctors’ fancy way of saying brain grease. And brain grease works inside the lobes like car grease works inside an engine. It keeps things running smooth and fast. But weirdo me, I was born with too much grease inside my skull, and it got all thick and muddy and disgusting, and it only mucked up the works. My thinking and breathing and living engine slowed down and flooded. My brain was drowning in grease. But that makes the whole thing sound weirdo and funny, like my brain was a giant French fry, so it seems more serious and poetic and accurate to say, “I was born with water on the brain.” Okay, so maybe that’s not a very serious way to say it, either. Maybe the whole thing is weird and funny. But jeez, did my mother and father and big sister and grandma and cousins and aunts and uncles think it was funny when the doctors cut open my little skull and sucked out all that extra water with some tiny vacuum? I was only six months old and I was supposed to croak during the surgery. And even if I somehow survived the mini-Hoover, I was supposed to suffer serious brain damage during the procedure and live the rest of my life as a vegetable. Well, I obviously survived the surgery. I wouldn’t be writing this if I didn’t, but I have all sorts of physical problems that are directly the result of my brain damage. First of all, I ended up having forty-two teeth. The typical human has thirty-two, right? But I had forty-two. Ten more than usual. Ten more than normal. Ten teeth past human.

• From Manhunt (2022)

  She squeezed his hand and shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know,” he said. “It’s okay.” “What happened to the men in the guest house?” asked Indi, accepting the joint from Steph and taking a dainty little hit. “Oh, the locks and air filters all seized up when the castle’s generators blew,” said Zia. “They must have suffocated, but a girl I met who came over on the Saffron Spirit from Aberdeen a few years ago said when she and her friends went to pick the place over, they heard something scratching at the walls from the inside.” Beth and Indi walked down the beach hand in hand, Fran and Robbie a few dozen yards ahead of them. The crumbling wall of the old fort, raised during the Revolution, lay on their left while the river sighed in and out over the slate and the dark sand on their right. “What do you think they’re talking about?” asked Indi. Beth shrugged. “How hard it is to be conventionally attractive?” Indi laughed. She caught a glimpse of motion in the shadow of the ruined wall. A dimpled white curve of backside. A dark hand gliding over it to slide a finger up into its crack, and a soft, hitching sigh of pleasure that the wind stole as it whipped in off the river. Zia and Steph? She smiled. Her father had always said salt air was the best aphrodisiac, no matter how often she begged him not to say “aphrodisiac.” He’d been matter-of-fact about sex. “Try a man out before you marry him,” he’d said to her more than once. “Leave chastity to the Christian girls.” And she had. As her body bloomed and swelled she threw it at whoever would condescend to take it. First to the boys at high school who’d fuck her, but not hold her hand, then to the white girls at Dartmouth- Hitchcock who let her eat them out and told her that her skin was like caramel or coffee or sandalwood, though they never called her beautiful. Not exactly. She’d married Vikram during her residency more out of despair than anything else, accepting his tedious conversation and whining, needling methods of manipulation as a fair price to pay for his willingness to be seen with her in public. She remembered how he’d pissed and moaned when she told him Fran was coming to stay in the spare room over the garage. She’s a family friend, Vik. Our mothers taught at the same high school and she’s transitioning, having a rough time at home.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "'Yes, I am wrong. You love me. I see it now. You do not despise me because I am here, do you?' "'Ah! if you could only read in my heart, and see how madly I love you, darling!' "And she looked at him with longing, passionate eyes. "'Still you think me light, don't you? I am an adulteress!' "And thereupon she shuddered, and hid her face in her hands. "He looked at her for a moment pitifully, then he took down her hands gently, and kissed her. "'You do not know how I have tried to resist you, but I could not. I am on fire. My blood is no longer blood, but some burning love-philtre. I cannot help myself,' said she, lifting up her head defiantly as if she were facing the whole world, 'here I am, do with me what you like, only tell me that you love me, that you love no other woman but me, swear it.' "'I swear,' said he, languidly, 'that I love no other woman.' "She did not understand the meaning of his words. "'But tell it to me again, say it often, it is so sweet to hear it repeated from the lips of those we doat on,' said she, with passionate eagerness. "'I assure you that I have never cared for any woman so much as I do for you.' "'Cared?' said she, disappointed. "'Loved, I mean.' "'And you can swear it?' "'On the cross if you like,' added he, smiling. "'And you do not think badly of me because I am here? Well, you are the only one for whom I have ever been unfaithful to my husband; though God knows if he be faithful to me. Still my love does not atone for my sin, does it?' "Teleny did not give her any answer for an instant, he looked at her with dreamy eyes, then shuddered as if awaking from a trance. "'Sin,' he said, 'is the only thing worth living for.' "She looked at him rather astonished, but then she kissed him again and again and answered: 'Well, yes, you are perhaps right; it is so, the fruit of the forbidden tree was pleasant to the sight, to the taste, and to the smell." "They sat down on a divan. When they were clasped again in each other's arms he slipped his hand somewhat timidly and almost unwillingly under her skirts. "She caught hold of his hand, and arrested it. "'No, Réné, I beg of you! Could we not love each other with a Platonic love? Is that not enough?' "'Is it enough for you?' said he, almost superciliously.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  When by chance I happened to be close to her on the way back, she secretly pressed my hand. Her glance was so radiant, so full of promised happiness, that in a moment all the torments of these days were forgotten and all their wounds healed. I now am aware again of how much I love her. * * * * * “My friend has complained about you,” said Wanda to-day. “Perhaps she feels that I despise her.” “But why do you despise her, you foolish young man?” exclaimed Wanda, pulling my ears with both hands. “Because she is a hypocrite,” I said. “I respect only a woman who is actually virtuous, or who openly lives for pleasure’s sake.” “Like me, for instance,” replied Wanda jestingly, “but you see, child, a woman can only do that in the rarest cases. She can neither be as gaily sensual, nor as spiritually free as man; her state is always a mixture of the sensual and spiritual. Her heart desires to enchain man permanently, while she herself is ever subject to the desire for change. The result is a conflict, and thus usually against her wishes lies and deception enter into her actions and personality and corrupt her character.” “Certainly that is true,” I said. “The transcendental character with which woman wants to stamp love leads her to deception.” “But the world likewise demands it,” Wanda interrupted. “Look at this woman. She has a husband and a lover in Lemberg and has found a new admirer here. She deceives all three and yet is honored by all and respected by the world.” “I don’t care,” I exclaimed, “but she is to leave you alone; she treats you like an article of commerce.” “Why not?” the beautiful woman interrupted vivaciously. “Every woman has the instinct or desire to draw advantage out of her attractions, and much is to be said for giving one’s self without love or pleasure because if you do it in cold blood, you can reap profit to best advantage.” “Wanda, what are you saying?”

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  But you are my slave, my—” She suddenly leaped up; the furs slipped down, and she threw her arms with soft pressure about my neck. “My beloved slave, Severin, oh, how I love you, how I adore you, how handsome you are in your Cracovian costume! You will be cold to-night up in your wretched room without a fire. Shall I give you one of my furs, dear heart, the large one there—” She quickly picked it up, throwing it over my shoulders, and before I knew what had happened I was completely wrapped up in it. “How wonderfully becoming furs are to your face, they bring out your noble lines. As soon as you cease being my slave, you must wear a velvet coat with sable, do you understand? Otherwise I shall never put on my fur-jacket again.” And again she began to caress me and kiss me; finally she drew me down on the little divan. “You seem to be pleased with yourself in furs,” she said. “Quick, quick, give them to me, or I will lose all sense of dignity.” I placed the furs about her, and Wanda slipped her right arm into the sleeve. “This is the pose in Titian’s picture. But now enough of joking. Don’t always look so solemn, it makes me feel sad. As far as the world is concerned you are still merely my servant; you are not yet my slave, for you have not yet signed the contract. You are still free, and can leave me any moment. You have played your part magnificently. I have been delighted, but aren’t you tired of it already, and don’t you think I am abominable? Well, say something—I command it.” “Must I confess to you, Wanda?” I began. “Yes, you must.” “Even if you take advantage of it,” I continued, “I shall love you the more deeply, adore you the more fanatically, the worse you treat me. What you have just done inflames my blood and intoxicates all my senses.” I held her close to me and clung for several moments to her moist lips. “Oh, you beautiful woman,” I then exclaimed, looking at her. In my enthusiasm I tore the sable from her shoulders and pressed my mouth against her neck. “You love me even when I am cruel,” said Wanda, “now go!—you bore me—don’t you hear?” She boxed my ears so that I saw stars and bells rang in my ears. “Help me into my furs, slave.” I helped her, as well as I could. “How awkward,” she exclaimed, and was scarcely in it before she struck me in the face again.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "On the morrow, when we met again, all traces of fatigue had passed away. We rushed into each other's arms and smothered ourselves with kisses, for nothing is more an incentive to love than a short separation. What is it that renders married ties unbearable? The too-great intimacy, the sordid cares, the triviality of every-day life. The young bride must love indeed if she feels no disappointment when she sees her mate just awakened from a fit of tough snoring, seedy, unshaven, with braces and slippers, and hears him clear his throat and spit—for men actually spit, even if they do not indulge in other rumbling noises. "The husband, likewise, must love indeed, not to feel an inward sinking when a few days after the wedding he finds his bride's middle parts tightly tied up in foul and bloody rags. Why did not nature create us like birds—or rather, like midges—to live but one summer day—a long day of love? "On the night of this next day Teleny surpassed himself at the piano; and when the ladies had finished waving their tiny handkerchiefs, and throwing flowers at him, he stole away from a host of congratulating admirers, and came to meet me in my carriage, waiting for him at the door of the theatre; then we drove away to his house. I passed that night with him, a night not of unbroken slumbers, but of inebriating bliss. "As true notaries of the Grecian god, we poured out seven copious libations to Priapus—for seven is a mystic, cabalistic, propitious number—and in the morning we tore ourselves from each other's arms, vowing everlasting love and fidelity; but, alas! what is there immutable in the ever-changing world, except, perhaps, the sleep eternal in the eternal night." "And your mother?" "She perceived that a great change had been wrought in me. Now, far from being crabbed and waspish, like an old maid that cannot find rest anywhere, I was even-tempered and good-humoured. She, however, attributed the change to the tonics I was taking, little guessing the real nature of these tonics. Later, she thought I must have some kind of liaison or other, but she did not interfere with my private affairs; she knew that the time for sowing my wild oats had come, and she left me complete freedom of action." "Well, you were a lucky fellow." "Yes, but perfect happiness cannot last long. Hell gapes on the threshold of heaven, and one step plunges us from ethereal light into erebian darkness. So it has ever been with me in this chequered life of mine. A fortnight after that memorable night of unbearable anguish and of thrilling delight, I awoke in the midst of felicity to find myself in thorough wretchedness.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  In our calmer intervals Charles gave the following account of himself, every tittle of which was true. He was the only son of a father, who, having a small post in the revenue, rather overlived his income, and had given this young gentleman a very slender education: no profession had he bred him up to, but designed to provide for him in the army, by purchasing him an ensign’s commission, that is to say, provided he could raise the money, or procure it by interest, either of which clauses was rather to be wished than hoped for by him. On no better a plan, however, had his improvident father suffered this youth, a youth of great promise, to run up to the age of manhood, or near it at least, in next to idleness; and had, besides, taken no sort of pains to give him even the common premonitions against the vices of the town, and the dangers of all sorts which wait the unexperienced and unwary in it. He lived at home, and at discretion with his father, who himself kept a mistress; and for the rest, provided Charles did not ask him for money, he was indolently kind to him: he might lie out when he pleased, any excuse would serve, and even his reprimands were so slight, that they carried with them rather an air of connivance at the fault, than any serious control or constraint. But, to supply his calls for money, Charles, whose mother was dead, had, by her side, a grandmother, who doated upon him. She had a considerable annuity to live on, and very regularly parted with every shilling she could spare, to this darling of her’s, to the no little heart-burn of his father; who was vexed, not that she, by this means, fed his son’s extravagance, but that she preferred Charles to himself; and we shall too soon see what a fatal turn such a mercenary jealousy could operate on the breast of a father. Charles was, however, by the means of his grandmother’s lavish fondness, very sufficiently enabled to keep a mistress, so easily contented as my love made me; and my good fortune, for such I must ever call it, threw me in his way, in the manner above related, just as he was on the look-out for one. As to temper, the even sweetness of it made him seem born for domestic happiness: tender, naturally polite, and gentle-manner’d; it could never be his fault, if ever jars, or animosities ruffled a calm he was so qualified every way to maintain or restore.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  I kneeled down and seized her hands. “Once more I beg you to become my wife, my true and loyal wife; if you can’t do that then become the embodiment of my ideal, absolutely, without reservation, without softness.” “You know I am ready at the end of a year to give you my hand, if you prove to be the man I am seeking,” Wanda replied very seriously, “but I think you would be more grateful to me if through me you realized your imaginings. Well, which do you prefer?” “I believe that everything my imagination has dreamed lies latent in your personality.” “You are mistaken.” “I believe,” I continued, “that you enjoy having a man wholly in your power, torturing him—” “No, no,” she exclaimed quickly, “or perhaps—.” She pondered. “I don’t understand myself any longer,” she continued, “but I have a confession to make to you. You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood. I am beginning to like the things you speak of. The enthusiasm with which you speak of a Pompadour, a Catherine the Second, and all the other selfish, frivolous, cruel women, carries me away and takes hold of my soul. It urges me on to become like those women, who in spite of their vileness were slavishly adored during their lifetime and still exert a miraculous power from their graves. “You will end by making of me a despot in miniature, a domestic Pompadour.” “Well then,” I said in agitation, “if all this is inherent in you, give way to this trend of your nature. Nothing half-way. If you can’t be a true and loyal wife to me, be a demon.” I was nervous from loss of sleep, and the proximity of the beautiful woman affected me like a fever. I no longer recall what I said, but I remember that I kissed her feet, and finally raised her foot and put my neck under it. She withdrew it quickly, and rose almost angrily. “If you love me, Severin,” she said quickly, and her voice sounded sharp and commanding, “never speak to me of those things again. Understand, never! Otherwise I might really—” She smiled and sat down again. “I am entirely serious,” I exclaimed, half-raving. “I adore you so infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you, for the sake of spending my whole life near you.” “Severin, once more I warn you.” “Your warning is vain. Do with me what you will, as long as you don’t drive me away.” “Severin,” replied Wanda, “I am a frivolous young woman; it is dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power. You will end by actually becoming a plaything to me.