The sun wouldn’t go down. We didn’t want it to. But it wouldn’t have listened if we did. The rocks we skipped into the lake burned our soft hands. Sunburnt and laughing we left in the evening.
the woman was laying in her clothes on the bed. When I had made contact with her at the conference first, the only way you could describe her was sultry. Her aura exuded confidence, but something else too. You could tell she wanted something. That something was me. We’d taken a cab from the conference to the hotel room. And now here we were, her on my bed.
David Burke
The sultry taste of her lips brought him to his knees, his resolve breaking and his commitment to himself broken. Mark leaned into Rebecca, cupping his large hands around her face and pulling her close.
salty and humid, hamburgers and amusement parts and sticky lip gloss and fast cars and
jane
sickly sweet sultriness slides thru ur veins,
leaves splinters stuck in your thighs
creases your tongue
bleeds thru every opening
you’ve ever had
branches out of your eyes
into the sick morning. stinging
your pores with the delight
of withdrawal. they cant save you now,
ur pockets spell out. dissatisfied
Summer
Long hair hung over her bare back like satin drapes, and thin strands fell over her heavy lidded eyes like smoke-stained thread. She was lean and lightly muscular like Tonia, but unlike her mother’s stocky build, Zia was a towering willow, firm yet flexible in the breeze.
Charlotte Keynes
The way I turn my cheek
to face the sun
and I slowly
look up at you
the way I laugh
so slightly
so softly
that the wind barely
carries it to your ears
The toss of my hair
the rhythm of my step
enchanting
Leah
The young woman’s eyelids lowered and her legs crossed, the short shirt stretching around her thighs. Vincent Stewart stared at her openly, a blush rising to his face.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. Stewart?” She asked, her voice soft.
For cryin’ out loud. Okay, okay. I’ll do it. Sultry. It’s a word, okay. That’s what it is. And it will probably be used above mostly in a sentence that has something to do with sex.
Jim Ranger
The day was warm. Hot. Moist? No, not quite. What was the word to describe it, the way the mirage shimmered in the air above the hot black slab of concrete? What was that compilation of letters on the tip of his tongue? The heat and the dampness and the…what was it? It was so close, the way a star seems close.
Shifra
The heat of the desert was overwhelming.
He didn’t know why they’d opted to vacation in Africa of all places. Neither of them had any interest in Africa; Mariam only pretended to, and even then it was a superficial pretending, the kind they used to impress their friends at cocktail parties. And neither of them could stand the heat. Especially not heat like this–sultry, and overwhelmingly dry, where it felt like there was sand everywhere, especially in places you couldn’t reach.
Sultry. I was not sultry. Cana was sultry and, to be honest, she was overbearing at times. I, however was not sultry. If Will called me sultry again, I was going to hit him. Repeatedly. Will just liked to piss me off and all his little ‘friends’ had picked up on it as well.
Victoria
The woman was sultry, and the night was just as steamy. Standing outside the nightclub she wore a red dress smoking a cigarette, the city lights hitting her tanned-skin further added to her seduction ability.
T.J.Legler
How can I avoid writing about sultry?
I have been actually. Really, truly.
To take breaks
Lust poetry
Are those my veins you were speaking of?
I think so
I love that lust
The quiet tapping of her heels caught my attention. My eyes found their way and followed her as she made her way toward me, her hips swinging with every step. The fellas around me turned their heads as she walked on by, sending death glares my way once they realized her attention was on me. Soon she was in front of me. The tight fabric of her button down shirt was tucked into her pencil skirt and raised a little as she leaned over and placed her hands on my desk.
Kay
The woman had a sultry look on her face as she lounged on the couch in a sheer nightgown. Her daughter had passed through the room several times now, trying not to take more than a glance at her mother. The girl had promised herself that this would be the last trip to the kitchen, scared of crossing paths with the man her mother was waiting for, but she was hungry.
that word that they use nowadays, swag, he looked like he had it. he walked in cocky as hell and acted so slick and sultry as if he didn’t care about anything at all. it was sickening to even watch, and she hoped she never had to meet him.
The sun wouldn’t go down. We didn’t want it to. But it wouldn’t have listened if we did. The rocks we skipped into the lake burned our soft hands. Sunburnt and laughing we left in the evening.
the woman was laying in her clothes on the bed. When I had made contact with her at the conference first, the only way you could describe her was sultry. Her aura exuded confidence, but something else too. You could tell she wanted something. That something was me. We’d taken a cab from the conference to the hotel room. And now here we were, her on my bed.
The sultry taste of her lips brought him to his knees, his resolve breaking and his commitment to himself broken. Mark leaned into Rebecca, cupping his large hands around her face and pulling her close.
salty and humid, hamburgers and amusement parts and sticky lip gloss and fast cars and
sickly sweet sultriness slides thru ur veins,
leaves splinters stuck in your thighs
creases your tongue
bleeds thru every opening
you’ve ever had
branches out of your eyes
into the sick morning. stinging
your pores with the delight
of withdrawal. they cant save you now,
ur pockets spell out. dissatisfied
Long hair hung over her bare back like satin drapes, and thin strands fell over her heavy lidded eyes like smoke-stained thread. She was lean and lightly muscular like Tonia, but unlike her mother’s stocky build, Zia was a towering willow, firm yet flexible in the breeze.
The way I turn my cheek
to face the sun
and I slowly
look up at you
the way I laugh
so slightly
so softly
that the wind barely
carries it to your ears
The toss of my hair
the rhythm of my step
enchanting
The young woman’s eyelids lowered and her legs crossed, the short shirt stretching around her thighs. Vincent Stewart stared at her openly, a blush rising to his face.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. Stewart?” She asked, her voice soft.
The red lips
Curled hair
Stretched skirt
Speak volumes
But look closer
In here eyes
Here’s what you seek
Sultry
For cryin’ out loud. Okay, okay. I’ll do it. Sultry. It’s a word, okay. That’s what it is. And it will probably be used above mostly in a sentence that has something to do with sex.
The day was warm. Hot. Moist? No, not quite. What was the word to describe it, the way the mirage shimmered in the air above the hot black slab of concrete? What was that compilation of letters on the tip of his tongue? The heat and the dampness and the…what was it? It was so close, the way a star seems close.
The heat of the desert was overwhelming.
He didn’t know why they’d opted to vacation in Africa of all places. Neither of them had any interest in Africa; Mariam only pretended to, and even then it was a superficial pretending, the kind they used to impress their friends at cocktail parties. And neither of them could stand the heat. Especially not heat like this–sultry, and overwhelmingly dry, where it felt like there was sand everywhere, especially in places you couldn’t reach.
Sultry. I was not sultry. Cana was sultry and, to be honest, she was overbearing at times. I, however was not sultry. If Will called me sultry again, I was going to hit him. Repeatedly. Will just liked to piss me off and all his little ‘friends’ had picked up on it as well.
The woman was sultry, and the night was just as steamy. Standing outside the nightclub she wore a red dress smoking a cigarette, the city lights hitting her tanned-skin further added to her seduction ability.
How can I avoid writing about sultry?
I have been actually. Really, truly.
To take breaks
Lust poetry
Are those my veins you were speaking of?
I think so
I love that lust
I’ve begun my first chapter
The quiet tapping of her heels caught my attention. My eyes found their way and followed her as she made her way toward me, her hips swinging with every step. The fellas around me turned their heads as she walked on by, sending death glares my way once they realized her attention was on me. Soon she was in front of me. The tight fabric of her button down shirt was tucked into her pencil skirt and raised a little as she leaned over and placed her hands on my desk.
The woman had a sultry look on her face as she lounged on the couch in a sheer nightgown. Her daughter had passed through the room several times now, trying not to take more than a glance at her mother. The girl had promised herself that this would be the last trip to the kitchen, scared of crossing paths with the man her mother was waiting for, but she was hungry.
that word that they use nowadays, swag, he looked like he had it. he walked in cocky as hell and acted so slick and sultry as if he didn’t care about anything at all. it was sickening to even watch, and she hoped she never had to meet him.
The air was heavenly, sultry with the fragrance of roses dripping in a gentle summer drizzle.
I clung to you like a thorn at your side.
The the voice I pine for.
The sweaty room I’m confined to in the summer.
“The night was sultry,” reads the famous first line.