Dirty Wet Quotes & Sayings
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Top Dirty Wet Quotes
You shudder beneath the orange glow, the wet reptile streets, while heading back to the muted torture of your dirty room, where some cruel memory sours the walls, viciously, like wisps of a flaming hell. — Brian Alan Ellis
Later, I was in a bathroom stall. Eric was on his knees. My dick was in his mouth, my head back against warm ceramic tile that shook with the beat of the music. My fingers were in his hair and everything was hot and wet. I grunted a warning and he backed away, jacking me until I came on the dirty floor. He stood up and kissed me while he jerked himself off. He sighed into my mouth. He tasted like stale beer and mint. He came on his hand. I felt raw. "Thanks," he said, zipping up his pants. "That was great." "Sure," I said, because I was unsure of what else to say. "You too." And then he left. I — T.J. Klune
When I'm around you all I can think about is touching you. Tasting you. Having you. I want to push you against that car, pull off your jeans, your T-shirt. Spread you naked against the metal. Stroke you till you're so wet you're dripping. Then push my cock inside you. Make you come so hard you scream. — Jackie Ashenden
Now, gorgeous girl. What dirty little secret were you going to tell me? Let me know when I'm getting warm." His thumbs drew lazy circles on the insides of her knees. "Were you going to tell me that you woke up after our night together, all tight and wet for me, wishing I was still there to take care of you? — Tessa Bailey
Use a pegboard and some s-hooks to hang utensils along a wall. Most ovens get really dirty over time due to continuous use. Make a solution with a few tablespoons of vinegar, baking soda and dish washing soap. Spread this with a sponge along your oven surfaces and keep it for a while. Then use a clean wet sponge to wipe the dirt away. Garbage bins often acquire a stagnant smell after using them a few times. This is because despite using garbage bags, there could be leakage. Next time you clean out your dustbin, put in the garbage bag and then place some newspaper balls at the bottom. Put in your trash over this newspaper since it will absorb any such leaks. Organize everything in a systematic way so that you know where to grab them from next time. — Matthew Jones
But usually not. Usually she thinks of the path to his house, whether deer had eaten the tops of the fiddleheads, why they don't eat the peppermint saprophytes sprouting along the creek; or she visualizes the approach to the cabin, its large windows, the fuchsias in front of it where Anna's hummingbirds always hover with dirty green plumage and jeweled throats. Sometimes she thinks about her dream, the one in which her mother wakes up with no hands. The cabin smells of oil paint, but also of pine. The painter's touch is sexual and not sexual, as she herself is ... When the memory of that time came to her, it was touched by strangeness because it formed no pattern with the other events in her life. It lay in her memory like one piece of broken tile, salmon-coloured or the deep green of wet leaves, beautiful in itself but unusable in the design she was making — Robert Hass
Dirty days hath September
April June and November
From January up to May
The rain it raineth every day
All the rest have thirty-one
Without a blessed gleam of sun
And if any of them had two-and-thirty
They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty."
"April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. — William Shakespeare
Are you fucking kidding me? How do you get this wet? Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. I don't even ... ohhhhh God. It's all over your legs. Oh baby, I'm gonna fuck you so hard. — Charlotte Stein
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia.
"Your new school uniform," she said.
Harry looked in the bowl again.
"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet. — J.K. Rowling
But at the end of the white board, the edge, where you'll come down with your weight to make it send you off, there are two areas of darkness. Two flat shadows in the broad light. Two vague black ovals. The end of the board has two dirty spots. They are from all the poeple who've gone before you. Your feet as you stand here are tender and dented, hurt by the rough wet surface, and you see that the two dark sports are from people's skin. They are skin abraded from feet by the violence of the disappearance of people with real weight. More people than you could count without losing track. The weight and abrasion of their disappearance leaves little bits of soft tender feet behind, bits and shards and curls of skin that dirty and darken and tan as they lie tiny and smeared in the sun at the end of the board. They pile up and get smeared and mixed together. They darken in two circles. — David Foster Wallace
Sliding my fingers back inside of her, I shuddered when she clenched her muscles around my fingers. Once my fingers were soaked again, I held them up to her mouth so that she could taste, too. Her eyes widened and pooled with lust as she licked our come from my fingers. "Damien! It's so dirty ... but I'm so wet right now. Fuck me with your tongue!" I moaned from the look on her face alone. "Nothing we do together will ever be dirty baby. This is love. — Ella Fox
Ma and God
God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your fork."
God gave us voices--Ma says, "Don't scream."
Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.
But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.
God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your hanky."
God gave us puddles--Ma says, "Don't splash."
Ma says, "Be quiet, your father is sleeping."
But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.
God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Put your gloves on."
God gave us raindrops--Ma says, "Don't get wet."
Ma says be careful, and don't get too near to
Thoses strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.
God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Go wash 'em."
But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.
And I ain't too smart, but there's one thing for certain--
Either Ma's wrong or else God is. — Shel Silverstein
Oh, is my baby's little pussy finally getting wet?" He put his hand on her knee.
She tried to cross her legs. "Yes, and it's a lot. It feels very messy."
He could smell her now. Bending over and presenting her ass had done something for her. So had dirty talk. Yeah, he could talk dirty. "Messy is good. I want that pussy dirty and ripe when I start to eat it. — Lexi Blake
Jesus Christ, you're soaking wet. Seriously, have you been going around with all this between your legs? I can feel it through fucking flannel, honey. Oh my God, I can feel it through flannel, he said, the first words almost steady and sure and the last ones like nothing she'd ever heard before. — Charlotte Stein
He has wet dreams and moans dirty things about chest hair."
"That was one time." Okay, more like six times. — T.J. Klune
I'm good at doing the laundry. At least that. And it's a religious experience ... Water, earth, fire-polarities of wet and dry, hot and cold, dirty and clean. The great cycles-round and round-beginning and end-Alpha and Omega, amen. — Robert Fulghum
Dear brother,
I feel what Pa and Ma instinctively think about me (I don't say reasonably).
There's a similar reluctance about taking me into the house as there would be about having a large, shaggy dog in the house. He'll come into the room with wet paws - and then, he's so shaggy. He'll get in everyone's way. And he barks so loudly.
In short - it's a dirty animal.
Very well - but the animal has a human history and, although it's a dog, a human soul, and one with finer feelings at that, able to feel what people think about him, which an ordinary dog can't do.
And I, admitting that I am a sort of dog, accept them as they are.
Vincent van Gogh to his brother Theo, Nuenen, 15 December 1883 — Vincent Van Gogh
You throw a sponge into a sink full of dirty water and it'll soak up several times its weight and hold onto it. Throw something less porous, like a stone, into a sink full of dirty water, and it'll still get wet. Pull it out and it feels about the same, weighs about the same, but there's a slight change in texture, a film over it, and droplets of water are still settled into the minuscule pits and crevices of the stone. Even as a child, I recognized hypocrisy and prejudice at play, but I was also at my most impressionable and, inevitably, whether I liked it or not, I retained bits of it. — Brianna Karp
The things we need most are the things we have become most afraid of, such as adventure, intimacy, and authentic communication. We avert our eyes and stick to comfortable topics. We hold it as a virtue to be private, to be discreet, so that no one sees our dirty laundry. We are uncomfortable with intimacy and connection, which are among the greatest of our unmet needs today. To be truly seen and heard, to be truly known, is a deep human need. Our hunger for it is so omnipresent, so much apart of our life experience, that we no more know what it is missing than a fish knows it is wet. We need more intimacy than nearly anyone considers normal. Always hungry for it, we seek solace and sustenance in the closest available substitutes: television, shopping, pornography, conspicuous consumption - anything to ease the hurt, to feel connected, or to project an image by which we might be seen or known, or at least see and know ourselves. — Charles Eisenstein
Never had I felt so much the slave as when I scoured those stone steps each afternoon. Working against time, I would wet five steps, sprinkle soap powder, then a white doctor or a nurse would come and, instead of avoiding the soppy steps, walk on them and track the dirty water onto the steps that I had already cleaned. To obviate this, I cleaned but two steps at a time, a distance over which a ten-year-old child could step. But it did no good. The white people still plopped their feet down into the dirty water and muddled the other clean steps. If I ever really hotly hated unthinking whites, it was then. Not once during my entire stay at the institute did a single white person show enough courtesy to avoid a wet step. — Richard Wright
I sucked a huge breath of air into my collapsed lungs. Once I could breathe again, I examined Ren's back. His white shirt was dirty and torn, and his skin was scratched and bleeding in several places. I took a wet shirt from the bag to clean his scratches, while removing little pieces of gravel embedded in his skin.
When I was finished, I grabbed Ren around the waist in a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I whispered against his chest quietly but firmly, "Thank you. But don't ever ... ever ... ever do that again!"
He laughed. "If I get results like this, I surely will do it again."
"You will not!"
Ren reluctantly let me go, and I began mumbling, complaining about tigers, men, and bugs. He seemed very pleased with himself for surviving a near-death experience. I could practically hear him chanting to himself: I overcame. I conquered. I'm a man, etc, etc. I smirked. men! No matter what century they're from, they're all the same. — Colleen Houck
Hail, follow, well met, All dirty and wet: Find out, if you can, Who's master, who's man. — Jonathan Swift
Ohhhhh Je-sus you're wet. Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby. Are you serious with this? It's all over your legs."
She blurted the words without thinking.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Before trying to do something mitigating, like closing her legs. Doing so proved hard, however, with him almost between them and his big hands refusing to move from her thighs.
And he looked so ... so incredulous too.
"Don't be sorry. Don't. You should know it's hot as fuck that you're like this. Seriously." He paused. Seemed to consider, before continuing. "You always like this? — Charlotte Stein
Wherever you are," he said low and steady as I wrote his name, knee to crotch, "I own you. I own your filthy mouth. I own your dirty mind. When you get wet thinking about fucking, it's mine. Every drop from you. I own your every thought. You are my property. — C.D. Reiss
Women never look so well as when one comes in wet and dirty from hunting. — Robert Smith Surtees
So what's up, you dirty boy?' she teases on the escalator. 'Shit, I don't know where to start.' 'I'll drag it out of you.' She slips her dry little hand into my bunch of wet finger-meats, and coaxes me through the crowd. 'We'll check for my cousin, then maybe grab a juice, get private.' A juice. Grab a private juice. What a woman. — D.B.C. Pierre
According to Mattress Mattie you couldn't make money in bed by yourself, so I had no choice but to get wet and dirty. — Liliana Hart