“See, I thought gay sex would be all different and weird, but it was just like having sex with a woman, except way hotter. I guess you can't believe stuff you see on the Internet, because you know, the hot gay sex I had last night was totally awesome, and nobody like, put their entire hand in my butt." Doug stood and walked over to Stephen, who was shoving a bagel into a Ziploc bag. "Anyway, hold on, here he is," Doug said into the phone, and then held it out towards him. "It's your mom.”

“I love you," Sam said, and set his mouth against hers, and broke off the kiss because he had to say it again. "I love you."Lucy's trembling fingers came to his lips, caressing them gently, "Are you sure? How do you know it's not just about sex?""It is about sex...sex with your mind, sex with your soul, sex with the color of your eyes, the smell of your skin. I want to sleep in your bed. I want you to be the first thing I see every morning and the last thing I see at night. I love you the way I never thought I could love anyone.”

“While I do not have a boyfriend, I do have a friend who is homosexual and I once asked him "Do you ever think about having sex with me because you are gay?" to which he replied "Do you ever think about having sex with Rosie O'Donnell because you are straight? Same thing.”

“Driving a hot car is a lot like sex to me, or a lot like I keep thinking sex should be: A total body experience, overwhelming, to all the senses, taking you places you've never been, packing a punch that leaves you breathless and touches your soul. The Viper was way more satisfying then my last boyfriend.”

“Here," I said, the morning after the lazy, stupid Derek incident, as I intercepted Camden on his way to his locker shortly before the first-period bell and dragged him into an empty physics lab. I handed him three problem sets with the words PECKER and BALLS written all over them in multicolored highlighters, plus pictures of stick-figure people having sex in different positions. "This is to force your douche-bag friends to copy over the stuff in their own handwriting before they hand it in. There's no way I'm letting us get caught just because our clients get lazy." I crossed my arms and stared at him, daring him to get mad.He didn't. He just looked at the papers, surprised, then looked at me. "That's actually a really good idea," he said, sounding impressed."I know," I said."And these pictures you drew are weirdly hot.""I don't disagree," I said. "By the way, I'm charging you for the highlighters I bought."I think he might've said "I love you" as I walked out of the classroom, but the hallway was noisy, so I couldn't be sure.”

“Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery.”“Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?” murmured Doug.“Well,” I told Doug, “I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out.”Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded.“Then I said—not knowing who he was—that I’d be Seth Mortensen’s love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books.”