Quotes by Fiona Thrust

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being. I can see no better reason for being alive.

It was the wildness of it that got me going: the primal lust, the sheer needs of two people in heat, quickly finding ways to express their sacred hunger to each other in animal passion.

To feel aroused is to feel alive. Having great sex is like taking in huge lungfuls of fresh air, essential to your body, essential to your health, and essential to your life.

I love being aroused.I relish that delicious feeling of freedom, the delirium of being naked, and my flesh being born again. It’s like I’m being made new.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of him. The way they looked so small, and cruelly forgotten, was a beautiful symbol of how much we both needed to satisfy our lusts.

It was the impatience of the way he tore my panties from my body, that really turned me on: I was all he could think of, as his lust got the better of

He was the kind of man I wanted: wild, hot, horny, and losing control. And it all pointed back to me, about how much I felt in control of him, with the power of my body.

I heard him sweeping with the broom, and then he suddenly stopped.I had obviously got his attention, and he was lo

I could feel his whole body trying to claim me, want me, own me in lust, and it made me feel so valuable and wanted. As I was bent over the table, I felt like I was the world to him, and he could think of nothing else, could feel nothing else: he was consumed with my body, dedicated to exploring my female sexual power and energy, and his desperate hitting of me with the belt felt like he would rather die, than be without the chance to connect with me in sex.

Lust, pure gorgeous lust: the sacred energy that elevates us, and makes us feel so special.

The air felt thick with the feeling between us, like it was filling the room: a room full of our carnal heat, our hot desire for each other. Both my hands were clenched on the tablecloth, bunching it tightly, as he continued to swipe the belt against my quivering ass cheeks, and I could feel his tight fist yank repeatedly on my hair.

I want you to fuck me, Chris,’ I said, lustfully whispering the words into his ear as he planted kisses on my neck. His lips were wild and yearning, eagerly devouring me.

I thought to myself how we were so wrapped up in this animal act, that he couldn’t care less about his tea shop business, and I couldn’t care less about my job. That’s real sex that is, real passion: where you abandon all your boringly sensible thoughts, and all that tediously responsible side of yourself, as you give yourself to what you know really matters more, deep in the core of you: frantic sex.

He lashed the belt against my ass again, and I was starting to feel like I was some supernatural being that was more than he was. He was just human, but I felt like something from heaven, an angel from the stars, that had come down to grace him with my presence. How beautiful lust is, when it makes you feel this way. Have you felt this yourself, do you know what I mean?

There we were, filled with pure animal need, as he pinned me to the wooden table, and cruelly whipped my naked bottom; the two of us sweaty and panting, me screaming, him grunting, our primal sexual natures overprinting the tea room’s pretence at gentility, and refinement.

He was the kind of man I wanted: wild, hot, horny, and losing control. And it all pointed back to me, about how much I felt in control of him, with the power of my body.I felt so in control of him; it was dizzying, and intoxicating.

You know, there’s no pleasure like the joy of being a sexual woman. You can take your careers, your money, your houses and possessions, and you go and throw them in a

He handed the dust pan and brush over. I knew they wouldn’t be much use in cleaning the floor. I also knew the real reason he had given them to me: so he could look furtively at me, as I bent over.That idea turned me on. I welcomed it, and decided to give him a good look at what he wanted.

He pulled my head back further, and I could hear his ragged breathing as his mouth came close to my ear, sounding so desperate for me. God, I was turned on so much…

The thought went through my mind that we should film ourselves in our sexual act, and project our frenzied copulation permanently onto the walls of the tea-room, as a lesson to wake up the boring people who drank tea here, and to show them what life was really all about.