Hand in hand, they would fall backward.” 5. He was with her now, peering into an abyss, and they saw how the scree plunged down through the cloud. It was not easy, for he was being drawn back and he had to resist … She was calling to him, inviting him, murmuring in his ear. It was a temptation to leap into clear space now, but he was a man of the world and he could walk away and wait. He was in an unhurried, reconnoitering mood, with time to go to a rocky edge and take a glimpse of the near-vertical scree down which he would shortly have to thrown himself. He imagined himself strolling on a smooth, rounded mountain summit, suspended between two higher peaks. It is common enough at such times to fantasize arriving in a remote high place. “They began to make love against the library shelves which creaked with their movement. He gentles his hand, so I’m brought back from the brink … I come instantly again and again, falling apart beneath him … then I’m building again … I climax anew, calling out his name.” 4. My legs begin to stiffen as I push against his hand. His tongue mirrors the actions of his fingers, claiming me. His other hand scoops my hair off my head and holds my head in place. “He leans down and kisses me, his fingers still moving rhythmically inside me, his thumb circling and pressing. But Andre seemed more mature to me, his flesh was not so spare, he already had less hair and I liked going to sleep bundled up next to him with my buttocks against his belly, telling him we were a perfect fit.” 3. He was taller, more wiry, and one of those men who isolate the action of the pelvis from the rest of the body, who thrust without smothering, supporting their torso with their arms. Ringo’s body was very different from Andre’s, and I liked it better. “Ringo came and took his place on top of me, while the third boy, who was more reserved than the other two, rested on one elbow beside us and ran his hand over my upper body. She shuddered against him, her legs quaking, and when he finally slowed to look up at her, he saw her hair was a wild tumble, and her face was glowing.” 2. He thrust one finger inside her, crooking it and hitting her in the spot that turned her moans into one long, high-pitched orgasm. She grabbed his hair, yanked and pulled him closer as he’d told her to do. She was quite an instrument to play, so finely tuned, and if he touched her right, she made the most glorious sounds - raw, intense, absolutely delicious noises of pleasure as he plundered her with his tongue. “He drove his tongue inside her, setting off another shattering moan that was music to his ears. I’ve gathered up the sexiest excerpts from some of the books I’ve read -just an FYI you may want to have access to a cold shower before getting started on these. TV and movies sex scenes are okay, but there’s something even better about the descriptive language authors use to set the mood to make the steamy passages to really come to life. But they’re very entertaining and the authors have a really skillful, steamy, romantic, arousing sex writing. The sex scenes in erotica books are literary fiction. literally! Erotica taps into all kinds of human emotions. It’s always orgasmic, vagina-blowing, cock-swelling fantastic and it will blow your socks off…. The truth is that erotica is an amazing form of literature. When we finally learn what has pushed her over the edge, it feels like just one more terrible event in the sad life of a young girl who doesn't deserve so much woe.If you’re under the impression erotica novels are cheesy and boring, you’re in for a pleasant surprise. And though Tracey's breakdown is compelling, there is little else to see scenes with her psychiatrist, for example, which could have been fascinating, devolve into screaming and swearing. It's fantastic performance, but painful at times to see, and Page is not matched by either the supporting cast, or the profanity-laden script, which substitutes expletives for nuance. Tracey is unraveling, slowly at first, but after a series of horrific encounters it becomes clear that her hold on reality is tenuous, and slipping. Second, Tracey is a girl with no refuge - not at school, where she is bullied and belittled, nor at home where her violent father and emotionally absent mother create an environment of rules and discipline, but little love. It's an interesting gimmick, but can also be distracting, forcing the viewer to focus on two or more images when the mesmerizing Page demands complete attention as a disturbed teen who is coming apart. First, it uses a split-screen format, showing multiple perspectives of every scene. The Tracey Fragments can be tough to watch for two reasons.
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