Being self-indulgently delighted by your own phrases

I have read so many books that there is no way I could assume that anything I wrote is originally mine.

With that said, here is what I'd like to submit:

"With the armor of your love for me, and the sword of your faith in me, I would take on Satan himself!"
 
"I pushed such foolishness out of my head and my tongue into hers."

I believe that type of sentence is called 'zeugma'. Very nice!
Thanks again for the new fact. I love learning new things 😊. There really is a word for everything I guess.

The story my line is taken from is another attempt at the male voice and - drum roll - doesn’t feature Emily Miller! I know, right?

Up to 9,000 words. Will probably be around 12,000 when finished. So my first medium-length story in some time. It’s been fun writing, not sure how good it will be, but I learnt some stuff along the way, including about zeugmas (if that is the plural).

Em
 
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'The discussion continued for some time, with growing respect for each other, about various of the literary arts. About whether zeugma could function as a legitimate rhetorical device in an inflected language.'
 
I had a ton of fun with my Mickey Spillane spoof BTB, Incorporated. One passage, about a client's reception to the PI's news of proof of his wife's infidelity:

"He quivered. He'd known what was coming, and he'd had three days to prepare for it, and still he shook like a baby in the hands of a psychotic day care provider."
 
From my story, The White Room:

"My fingers danced over Chloe's clit, playing her like a classical violin; producing a symphony of moans, squeals and gasps."

I actually thought it quite cheesy when I first wrote it. And maybe it is. But I was writing a romantic coupling as opposed to a fuck fest and wanted something more poetic.
 
Damn, I have a LONG list of lines that have some impact. Some I am proud but I don't believe I can explain them here, but most often I share such lines with another guy who is a HUGE fan of my universe, so the latest share was:
the woman was given the D with strength and capitalization.

There is more to that, and a lot more lines. This one did also hit home in other ways:
“Coffee and IT guys. The great needs of the universe.”
 
From my story, The White Room:

"My fingers danced over Chloe's clit, playing her like a classical violin; producing a symphony of moans, squeals and gasps."

I actually thought it quite cheesy when I first wrote it. And maybe it is. But I was writing a romantic coupling as opposed to a fuck fest and wanted something more poetic.
A woman in my younger days actually said that to me once. "That moves me. You play my body like a violin." I write about it in this story: Memory and Loss, Part 3. It's a bitter sweet tale of a woman coming out of a broken marriage.
 
"My fingers danced over Chloe's clit, playing her like a classical violin; producing a symphony of moans, squeals and gasps."

From Double Stopping, my collaboration with CuriousAnnie:

At first, she seems to understand what I want, eating her opening cadenza into my cunt, broad noble strokes splayed laterally across my wet lips. Then a playful ad lib on my clit and an excruciatingly exquisite hairpin diminuendo, leaving me gagging for more. I cannot help but hum her part as she plays me like a maestra.

But then she goes too fast. "No Jade," I insist, unable to resist quoting the prodigy. "Moderato, nine-eight, pianissimo; like it's written."

That's the great thing I remember about fucking Jade, she gets rhythm.
 
I confess, I'm not above borrowing a phrase from literature,

"There was too much to be thought, and felt."
 
"On a subconscious level, we were unknowingly being drawn into each other. Like magnets, where the attraction is weak, from a distance, but getting stronger, as they moved closer."
 
I guess I can play this game too. This will be in my next story, which should be posted in a week or so.

"That was a problem; she had a number of what are now called red flags, one of which was that she had just banged a complete stranger, namely me."
 
I wish I could draw, because I'm writing a character that I adore and that I have such a clear visual picture for and I wish, wish, wish I could capture her pose and expression and likeness in this scene.
I can't draw either, at least not people. Sometimes you can find online photos, although those have no real connection to the character. Thus I only use them for myself.

But if you can see her in your mind's eye, you can describe her in your words, which is what we're all trying to do here. In fact, her dialogue (including internal dialogue) is probably the majority of what you need to do.
 
I’ve found myself using alliteration recently. I know it’s neither big nor clever, but it’s sometimes fun.
I love alliteration, almost as much as I love dirty talk. They work well together, in the right (usually outrageous) context. From my Snow White fairy-tale The Princess and the Cuntsman:

"FUUUUUCK!" screams the Queen in delight, as she feels her posterior penetrated by three twirling curling unseen digits. Her own hand furiously rubs her Courtly Clit, edging herself closer and closer to her climax, as she screams: "Now plunge thy prick into my Royal Rectum, make me come over thy Fucking Fenestration. Go on, Mirror, ram that Fiefly Fuckstick in and out of my cunted shithole, split me in two with thy Peasant Prick, thy Captive Cock!"

Immediately the Queen feels something huge and stiff pressing against her butthole -- followed by the punch, the scrape, the squeeze of the Mirrorly Manhood filling her up. "FUCK YEA!" she screams. "Squirt all thy cream deep in my Domineering Dirtpipe, Motherfucking Mirror. Fucking drown me in Servile Semen whilst I come all over thy Magic Manhood. And then tell me that I am the Fucking Fairest in the Land!"
 
The moan escaping each of us was the sound sex would make if it had a voice, as we closed our eyes to savor the sensations of our joining.
 
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