“I have as much style as a turnstile. Thrust your hips into me.”

“The jery, impeded walk of a man stuck in a turnstile, admitted, and stuck in a turnstile, admitted, and stuck in a turnstile. He said it was rheumatoid arthritis. It looked as likely to be cancer of the prostrate metastatising to his hips.”

“Oh fuck," he groaned, thrusting his cock harder against her. Grabbing her hips, he suddenly jerked her up and slid beneath her. "I want your pussy on my face." he said.~Slade”

“All my stories are webs of style and none seems at first blush to contain much kinetic matter. For me style is matter. ”

“She's beautiful,' he murmured.'She's a metre across the hips, easily,' said Julia.'That is her style of beauty,' said Winston.”

“No, by God, you’ve accused me of coldness, but howcan you, when you can feel how hot my body is againstyours? You’ve said I have none of the red-blooded passionof my sex, but you don’t know. You,” he gasped, pressingagainst her with a hard thrust of his hips, “you will know it—the depth of my passion. But you will.”