You Make Me So Wet Quotes & Sayings

Just after midnight, I text my parents who live in Florida: Please tell me you didn't help elect him.

No reply.

The next morning, New York City wakes up with a wet, gray yawn. The air is thick with mist. The city moves at a slower, muffled pace. New Yorkers rarely make eye contact; today isn't much different, except when eyes meet, they lock for a moment in shared grief. Everyone's shoulders bend forward, the world weighing heavier on them than it did yesterday.

The sidewalks and the coffee shops are quiet. Even the subway paces through its underground veins in somber silence. My husband tells me: "The city hasn't been this quiet since 9/11."

- Melissa Lirtsman — Erin Passons

I'll tell him that if he hopes to get any kind of a long lasting relationship with you he better do more than make your panties wet. — Milly Taiden

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

The minute that guy walked inside the front doors, Cody sat back and just stared. He was tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome with all that brawn and a killer smile. When he'd come to the bar and focused on Cody, training those amber eyes his way, Cody hardened to painful degrees. It had taken everything to keep himself nonchalant because that same man who currently rubbed about seventy-five percent of his body against Cody was his wet dream walking. Someone that could make him lose his mind and quite possibly his morals just to get a single taste. — Kindle Alexander

And your words ... "
"Tell me about my words."
"They make me crazy."
"Which ones, specifically?"
"All of them. Any of them."
"So mostly 'and', and 'when', and 'if'."
It's another challenge, ten hurdles high. I can clear it, though. I can.
"No. Mostly 'sex' and 'pleasure' and the way you just said 'wet'."
"Like it excites me."
"Yes. Exactly, yes."
"Like I want you to tell me all about that slippery seam between your legs, and how eager you must be to have someone lick their way over it."
"Oh, God, yes."
"And how I would, if I were there. I'd kiss your pussy until you forgot every little sliver of that restraint, play with your nipples to make them so pretty and stiff, slide my fingers inside you just as I think you might be doing now. Are you? — Charlotte Stein

Shit! Raine, if you do that again, I'm going to come all over you."
"I'm sorry!"
"Don't be," I growled, nuzzling against her nipple with my lips. "It feels so good ... your little hand trying to hold on to me."
"I still don't know how you're going to fit," she whispered, stroking me slowly again.
"I'm going to make you come," I told her. "Then you are going to be so wet and ready for me, I'm going to just slide right into you. — Shay Savage

Ride me. You're so tight and wet. I'm going to fill up that pretty little pussy and make it mine. In you. So that the whole god damn world knows you're mine. — Vi Keeland

We're friends?"
"Are we?"
I smirk at her. "Would you rather I said 'former lovers? Or maybe soon-to-be-lovers-again?"
She smirks back. "In your dreams."
"Fuck, yes. Absolutely in my dreams. The wet kind." I reach over and cover her knee with my palm. "How about we make those dreams a reality — Sarina Bowen

I just feel so guilty." Her stinging eyes burned with fresh tears. "I don't know why I can't ... I can't..."
"Make love to him?"
She nodded.
"Let him see you?"
She nodded again, tears sliding down her face. She mopped them up with the wet tissue she'd wadded in her fist.
"Are you scared he won't love you anymore, after he's seen how you look now?" her dad asked gently.
"No."
"Are you scared he won't be attracted to you anymore? That he won't want to be your lover?"
"No."
"What are you scared of, Vanka?"
"I don't feel the same way about myself, now. I don't even know how to explain it. I'm not ashamed. I don't feel ugly. But the way I was, who I was when we ... when we fell in love, I'm not that person, now."
"You're not in love with him anymore?"
"I am," her voice broke on a sob. "So in love. Like I never knew it could be. I thought I loved David. I thought I loved Mark. But, god, Dad, the way I love Galen... — Varian Krylov

People say that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. This is why unsolicited advice should be left to the professionals, because if life gives you lemons but doesn't also give you a whole lot of sugar, you're going to end up with some pretty awful-tasting lemonade. You might as well advise people that if life gives them a bag of wet sand they should make a stained glass window. — Cuthbert Soup

Blue was standing over her, shaking out his wet hair like an annoying blue dog. Beads of water clung to the muscle of his chest. He was wiry, not buff like Henley, but his body made up for size with definition.
Nothing could make up for his personality.
"Stop dripping on me," Mira snapped. — Sarah Cross

I've wanted to see you wearing nothing but my ring since I bought it for you. Knowing that, like the ring I put on your finger, I'm the only one. The only one who will ever see you in nothing but my ring. The only one who will wake up to your beautiful face every day for the rest of my life. The only one who will make love to you. The only one who will make babies with you." I watched his eyes get wet. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you are carrying my child. — Aurora Rose Reynolds

The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars. One of the basic and difficult lessons every artist must learn is that even the failed pieces are essential. X-rays of famous paintings reveal that even master artists sometimes made basic mid-course corrections (or deleted really dumb mistakes) by overpainting the still-wet canvas. The point is that you learn how to make your work by making your work, and a great many of the pieces you make along the way will never stand out as finished art. The best you can do is make art you care about - and lots of it! — David Bayles

Tell me the truth," he rasps. "Admit it made you hot. It made you wet. You are coiled so tight I could slide my hand down your panties and make you come before you could tell me to stop. — Sarah Castille

Everyone is born a freak," notes Hayley. "Every newborn baby, wet and hungry and screaming, is a fresh-hatched freak who wants to have a good time and make the world a better place ... Most teenagers wind up in high school. And high school is where the zombification process becomes deadly. — Laurie Halse Anderson

When it's the two of us and that pussy of yours is soft, swollen, and wet, I'll be the one in control. I'll have you wherever and whenever I want - in my bed, on my desk, on the floor right now if I want to. I'm going to own that sexy body of yours so thoroughly that you're going to beg for my cock, because it's going to be the only thing in the world that you want. And once I'm buried balls deep in you and you are filled with me, I'm going to make you come apart in the best way possible. Do you understand? — Avery Flynn

Our one employee came warily out of the back. He was always skittish with me, and if Lizzy wasn't around, h made a point of keeping his distance. I think he was expecting me to make a pass at him. He was seventeen, had stringy black hair,bad skin, and probably weighed a buck five soaked wet. I didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't my type. — Marie Sexton

Trying to make the Gospel relevant is like trying to make water wet. — Matt Chandler

God, I love your skin."
"My skin?" She glanced uncomprehendingly at her own arm when he rose from nibbling at her. "It's brown."
"It's melted chocolate and coffee with cream, exotic as the fucking desert, and so damn erotic. I have wet dreams about you naked on my sheets, your skin smooth and hot from the sun's rays."
She swallowed, chest heaving. "You make me sound edible."
He purred. "You are. — Nalini Singh

Trying to make bits uncopyable is like trying to make water not wet. The sooner people accept this, and build business models that take this into account, the sooner people will start making money again. — Bruce Schneier

She was also wearing brown high-heeled boots, the kind that don't make sense.

Boots are for working, for walking through wet mud, for keeping feet from getting shredded by brokenglass and falling machine parts.Boots with spiked heels were just as practical as sandals with steel toes — Penny Reid

Blood fountained in an arterial spray that wet her face, turned the cherry blossoms black, but she was already shoving the blade into his heart and twisting it into so much pulp ... 'Will she be able to make him rise from this?' she asked Raphael, her voice without inflection, without mercy. Slater didn't deserve her emotions, didn't deserve anything but the cold hand of a long-delayed justice. — Nalini Singh

I might cry tomorrow, but I may be smiling the day after. That's enough. That's the way life is. If I don't lose hope - tomorrow will come.Tomorrow will come if we don't lose hope ... I learned that from Nana.But rainy days still make my cheeks wet with tears, even now. It was pouring, on that rainy day. — Ai Yazawa

Love, is a Bloody Razor Blade
Love came like fire from above
and disappeared like a wet dream,
underneath a leaky kitchen sink
For weeks it went drip, drip, drip ...
until it could be, eventually fixed
It took a long time to depreciate
all the things I never had to say
But there are only so many things
that make sense at the end
The rest is merely X-Acto knife love, and
Love, is a bloody razor blade — Phil Volatile

Maybe that's a haiku, maybe not, it might be a little too complicated," said Japhy. "A real haiku's gotta be as simple as porridge and yet make you see the real thing, like the greatest haiku of them all probably is the one that goes 'The sparrow hops along the veranda, with wet feet.' By Shiki. You see the wet footprints like a vision in your mind and yet in those few words you also see all the rain that's been falling that day and almost smell the wet pine needles."

(The Dharma Bums, Chap. 8) — Jack Kerouac

We're human. We all occasionally wet ourselves. No one is really better than anyone else. We're just all trying to make it through the year as best we can. We screw up sometimes. We succeed sometimes. We laugh. We cry. We go on.
Those are the things we should really share with each other this holiday season, right, if we dare send a letter? We should share the truth. We should share the insanity. — Wade Rouse

We (believers) still have the presence of sin, nay, the stirrings and workings of corruption. These make us to have many a sad heart and a wet eye. Yet Christ has thus far freed us from sin; it shall not have dominion. There may be the turbulence, but not the prevalence of sin ... (Sin) may get into the throne of the heart and play the tyrant in this or that particular act of sin, but it shall never more be as a king there. — Samuel Bolton

I want to stick my cock into your pussy. Don't worry - I'll get you nice and ready first. Open you up with my fingers, make sure you're so wet and hot that when you wrap around me, it'll feel like I'm fucking a goddess because you're goddamn perfect, London. I can't wait to feel your cunt squeezing me. Lick your clit, taste you . . . It'll be good between us. You know it will. — Joanna Wylde

i)
We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.

The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.

ii)
Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.

Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over & over
perhaps because you own
so few of them

iii)
A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?

iv)
Does the body lie
moving like this, are these
touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?

Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.

It is only
here or not here. — Margaret Atwood

Do you have any idea how much it turns me on, knowing something of mine has been cradling your sweet pussy all day long?" Without warning, he thrust two thick fingers inside her with just enough force to make her cry out, bring her up on her toes. He didn't move them, only held them there, high and tight inside her. Ruby's head fell forward on a moan that was equal parts frustrated and relieved. He'd finally filled her. But she needed so much more from him, and he seemed determined to take his time. "You walked around with your naughty secret all day, didn't you? Did you think of me while you sat in class wearing my underwear? Did the thought of me get you all wet, baby?" His thrust his fingers deeper. "Answer me or you'll get no more. — Tessa Bailey

Kyrie ... you taste so good, Kyrie. I'm going to lick your sweet, perfect pussy until you beg me stop, but I won't stop. I'll keep licking you until you can't take it anymore, and then, when you've come so hard and so many times that you think you're about to die, I'll make you come again. Have you ever come so many times you passed out, Kyrie? That's what I'm going to do to you. Right now. Tonight. I'm going to eat your sweet wet little pussy until you pass out. — Jasinda Wilder

Apparently she was beyond words so she pushed the card into his hands. He looked down. Blinked. Blinked again before stumbling back into a chair. Did he just wet himself? Ah, who cared? He was holding four tickets to the Yankees vs. Red Sox at Yankee Stadium for this Friday and they were without a doubt the best seats in the stadium.
His eyes shifted from Haley to the tickets and back again before he made a split second decision and made a run for it. He didn't make it five feet before his little grasshopper tackled him to the ground and ripped the card from his hands.
He spit grass out of his mouth. "Fine. You can come with me I guess," he said, earning a knee to the ribs. — R.L. Mathewson

It takes between three and six hours to make each snowball, depending on snow quality. Wet snow is quick to work with but also quick to thaw, which can lead to a tense journey to the cold store. — Andy Goldsworthy

In her dreams the Hawk would be waiting for her by the sea's edge; her kilt-clad, magnificent Scottish laird. He would smile and his eyes would crinkle, then turn dark with
smoldering passion.
She would take his hand and lay it gently on her swelling abdomen, and his face would blaze with happiness and
pride. Then he would take her gently, there on the cliff's edge, in tempo with the pounding of the ocean. He would
make fierce and possessive love to her and she would hold on to him as tightly as she could. But before dawn, he would melt right through her fingers. And she would wake up, her cheeks wet with tears and her hands clutching nothing but a bit of quilt or pillow. — Karen Marie Moning

I don't know if there is actually more rain here in England, or if it was just that the rain seemed to be so deliberately annoying. Every drop hit the window with a peevish Am I bothering you? Does this make you cold and wet? Oh, sorry. — Maureen Johnson

A pony who lives outdoors usually has healthy skin and hair and does not need to be groomed daily, except to get him clean for riding and for special occasions. He should be checked over and have his feet picked out every day, whether he is ridden or not, and his eyes, nose and dock should be cleaned. In some parts of
the country, he should be checked for ticks, especially in his mane and tail. Besides that, he will only need currying and brushing with the dandy brush to make his coat smooth. The body brush will not do much good on a pony that rolls every day, and you do not want to remove the natural grease and scurf from his coat, as it protects him from getting wet and cold. After riding, sweat marks should be brushed out or rubbed out with a towel.
Controlling — Susan E. Harris

You dress her in a wet T-shirt and make her carry the bags? Damn, Cade, I like how you roll - Rok — Kresley Cole

He stepped close to her; she could feel his breath on her neck. "Eve, you make me not want to die."
She turned to see his face. "I didn't want to be this, and now it's all I am."
He put his hands on her cheeks. The look on his face did her in. He was kind, caring, and mourning her losses. Tears wet his cheeks. Eve felt a very deep sob choke her. If he was mourning, so could she.
He pulled her into his arms. "Cry. It's okay. Cry."
Eve felt her knees give. He caught her and carried her to his couch. He petted her hair and let her empty her pain and guilt onto his chest. He kissed the top of her head. For the first time, his actions toward her seemed to have no sexual intent whatsoever.
Eve let go of a rope she'd clung to for too long. And she fell. She fell right into him. Wrong or right, she gave up judging. Her lips found his, and he kissed her gently, not demanding any more than she was willing to offer. — Debra Anastasia

When the rains make your feathers wet, don't sit and cry and don't wait for your wet feathers to get dry before you start to fly; start flying and your wet feathers will start drying! — Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

If you make any money, the government shoves you in the creek once a year with it in your pockets, and all that don't get wet you can keep. — Will Rogers

Al Gore, best described by CNN sound tech Mark A. as "amazingly lifelike"; Steve Forbes, with his wet forehead and loony giggle; G.W. Bush's patrician smirk and mangled cant; even Clinton himself, with his big red fake-friendly face and "I feel your pain." Men who aren't enough like human beings even to hate-what one feels when they loom into view is just an overwhelming lack of interest, the sort of deep disengagement that is often a defense against pain. Against sadness. In fact, the likeliest reason why so many of us care so little about politics is that modern politicians make us sad, hurt us deep down in ways that are hard even to name, much less talk about. It's way easier to roll your eyes and not give a shit. You probably don't want to hear about all this, even. — David Foster Wallace

Every spring in the wet meadows and ditches I hear a little shrilling chorus which sounds for all the world like an endlessly reiterated "We're here, we're here, we're here." And so they are, as frogs, of course. Confident little fellows. I suspect that to some greater ear than ours, man's optimistic pronouncements about his role and destiny may make a similar little ringing sound that travels a small way out into the night. It is only its nearness that is offensive. From the heights of a mountain, or a marsh at evening, it blends, not too badly, with all the other sleepy voices that, in croaks or chirrups, are saying the same thing. — Loren Eiseley

I used to flirt with fundamentalism, and I had this idea that creation was something that happened. Now I see creation as something that is happening. Hundreds of millions of stars are still being born every day. Creation is an ongoing process. The Artist has not yet cleaned out the brushes. The paint is still wet. Human beings are the small clumps of clay and breath, and we have been handed brushes of our own, like young artist apprentices. The brushes aren't ours, nor the paint or canvas, but here they are in our hands, on loan. What shall we make? — Michael Gungor

When the beer came, I dipped a finger in it and wet down each corner of the paper napkin to anchor it, so it would not come up with the mug each time and make me appear ridiculous. I — Charles Portis

I didn't wake from these dreams crying. I woke shrieking. Paul grabbed me and held me until I was quiet. He wetted a washcloth with cool water and put it over my face. But those wet washcloths couldn't wash the dreams of my mother away. Nothing did. Nothing would. Nothing could ever bring my mother back or make it okay that she was gone. Nothing would put me beside her the moment she died. It broke me up. It cut me off. It tumbled me end over end. — Cheryl Strayed

The Fire Bug flared up at that. "You want to know what bugs me?" it said indignantly. "Nobodaddy's friendly about fire. Oh, it's fine in its place, people say, it makes a nice glow in a room, but keep an eye on it in case it gets out of control, and always put it out before you leave. Never mind how much it's needed; a few forests burned by wildfires, the occasional volcanic eruption, and there goes our reputation. Water, on the other hand! - hah! - there's no limit to the praise Water gets. Floods, rains, burst pipes, they make no difference. Water is everyone's favorite. And when they call it the Fountain of Life! - bah! - well, that just bugs me to bits." The Fire Bug dissolved briefly into a little cloud of angry, buzzing sparks, then came together again. "Fountain of Life, indeed," it hissed. "What an idea. Life is not a drip. Life is a flame. What do you imagine the sun is made of? Raindrops? I don't think so. Life is not wet, young man. Life burns. — Salman Rushdie

When I fuck you the first time, sweetheart," he murmured, nuzzling her neck, "we're gonna need a bed, 'cause I want to take it slow. So slow that by the time I slide my cock inside you, there won't be an inch of your body I haven't claimed. And when I make you come, you'll be so fucking wet and ready, you're gonna scream my name. — Sarah Castille

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

Wet milling (to produce starch) is an energy-intensive way to make food; for every calorie of processed food it produces, another ten calories of fossil fuel energy are burned. — Michael Pollan

His pride demanded he make her pay, make her weak for him, make her beg shamelessly for a mere touch. He wanted her hot and soaking wet, bearing the mark of his whip - no, his cane. He wanted to hear her call him her Master. — April Vine

You always trade blood for joy. It's always a deal struck in the wet and the dark. Al didn't make the rules. He just dances to the song that's playing. — Catherynne M Valente

Exploring and colonizing Mars can bring us new scientific understanding of climate change, of how planet-wide processes can make a warm and wet world into a barren landscape. By exploring and understanding Mars, we may gain key insights into the past and future of our own world. — Buzz Aldrin

Tell me not to kiss you, Jessica. Tell me right now. And best you make me believe you mean it," he warned softly, a breath from her lips. "Don't kiss me." She wet her lips. "Try again," he said flatly. "Don't kiss me." She swayed toward his body, a magnet to steel. "Try again," he hissed. "And best 'ware, woman, 'tis your last chance." Jessi took a deep breath. "Don't." Another deep breath. "Kiss me?" He laughed, a cocky, rich purr of a sound. — Karen Marie Moning

All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep his covenant."] The original Hebrew word that has been translated "paths" means "well-worn roads' or "wheel tracks," such ruts as wagons make when they go down our green roads in wet weather and sink in up to the axles. God's ways are at times like heavy wagon tracks that cut deep into our souls, yet all of them are merciful. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Does it hurt now?" he asked, his tone rough and seductive.
"No." She shook her head again and sighed, trying to pretend his touch didn't make her uncomfortably wet.
He grinned. "So...what's with the heavy breathing? — Eden Summers

Her armpits were still slightly wet & she examined them one by one. No hair. This was one of her greatest assets over her sister who had underarm hair.Her slender arms & long legs were also free of hair. She had only a little bit of pubic hair, she noticed. It must be terrible to have lots of ugly underarm & thick coarse arm & leg hairs that you had to shave off daily, she thought. A bit more pubic hair, she wouldn't mind, she decided. But they tended to tickle men's nostrils & make them sneeze.[MMT] — Nicholas Chong