Hawthorne's Short Story

Coated in her spit and saliva, his cock throbbed and pulsed with an arousal greater than the man could ever recall, and he groaned when, access to her pussy gained, he hooked his hands under Lila's armpits, wrenched her shoulders further behind her back, and slammed his entire length inside her. The force of that initial thrust almost split her in half, but was still only a precursor of what was to

Oh God! She was ready to cum from just his words! How could she possibly be so close to that edge without any other stimulation other than his touch and words? She was hungry for more of everything for him and she was having difficulty digesting that fact. She didn’t even know him but somehow he knew her, the part of her that even she didn’t know yet. He knew what her body needed and wanted, he knew how to awaken her senses. He knew how to play her body like an instrument, how to strum her to make her body sing for him, and she didn’t even know what he looked like. She only knew how he made her feel:

Kicking off his boots, he quickly stripped off his clothes until he stood naked under the light of the full moon. He could feel his cock swelling, his arousal igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach, the warmth radiating over his bare flesh. His spine tingles with anticipation, and moving forward, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Tom’s narrow waist, he placed his lips against the delicate contours of his lover’s ear and kissed the warm flesh. “Baby, wake up,” he

Hawthorne ran his hands up the back of Harper's thighs to trace the outlines of the marks on her bruised and welted skin with the pads of his fingertips, and bumped his forehead against hers when he straightened. "I believe a bath should help soothe these wounds, and then a restful sleep. Soft satin sheets." A second later, with a strength that belied his wiry frame, the man had easily lifted Harper Collin's from the X into his arms, hooked her legs around his waist, slid his grip to her butt, and turned to carry her to the marbled bathroom, adjacent to his

Hawthorne uses Roger Chillingworth’s love for Hester to present this idea to us in a very complex way. Hester, the protagonist in the story, is a young girl who recently arrived to the new world. Her husband is thought to be dead, so when she arrives she is all alone. Not long after arriving, she becomes the main topic of conversation in the town. The reason for this is that she has had a child out of marriage, but she refuses to discuss who the father of Pearl. Hester faces years of public shaming. As a part of her punishment, she has to wear a scarlet letter on her dress. The narrator reveals that the father is Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, and that he is in love with Hester. Hester’s husband, Roger Chillingworth, comes to see Hester and tells her not to tell anyone that they’re married. Even though he does his best not to show his emotions, he is still in love with her. Chillingworth becomes angry with Hester for committing adultery, and thinks that she should suffer. He says, “Live, therefore, and bear about thy doom with thee, in the eyes of men and women—in the eyes of him thou didst call thy husband—in the eyes of yonder child! And, that thou mayst live, take off this draught.” Due to his unrequited feelings for Hester, Chillingworth becomes a very mean and hateful man for the remainder of his

Grunts, groans and gasps accompanied the gnashing of his teeth as his his teeth broke the skind of her neck, and salty blood entered his mouth. However, as with all else except the sensations of his cock buried in her pussy as he violated her with ever increasing energy, Tom was not aware of it. And it wasn't even so much the sensations, as it was the reasons behind it, and the innate knowledge that he was fucking brutally fucking this woman, completely oblivious

Through detailed description, Hawthorne intends to set the scene for the story and introduce the theme of sin. There is very little action

His actions, the way his hand traveled from her chin to grasp her throat and exert sheer dominance and boasting male strength, made arousal pool between her legs, covered by the regrettable jean fabric of her shorts. His words had her nearly dripping, the heat of his breath against her skin calming her and exciting her in all the right ways and when he suddenly pulled back, shivers still surging up her spine, Sky was left immensely disappointed. So much for being an action man. She would have loved if he had his wicked way with her right then and there. He was right. Though she’d never admit it out loud, not right now at least. If she was randy, which she already

However, she'd dared to do so with Richard Treloar and to Karl William's that had been a slight on himself. Now, with his fingers tangled in her hair, and the sound of the leather smacking her ass reverberating of the walls, he discovered there was something much more arousing than simply the opportunity of being able to fuck the Heriess, and to have her suck his cock. And that was, to force her to do it, unwillingly, and to prove to the Socialite, that despite her upbringing, and advantages, when it come down to it, Karl possessed the true power. Her weakness

Anne felt something large pushing between her cunt lips, larger than Ed felt when they made love. Mark's thick cock then forced its way right inside her, with no effort by him to take his time or to see if she was ok. It was just fortunate that she was so wet she thought, though clearly Mark knew she was and had planned for it to be so. Anne let out a moan as his cock filled her for the first time, but knowing it wouldn't be the last.

He was enamoured with Harper Collin's, and as filled with lust, and the need to sink his cock into her willing pussy, and fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, then fuck her again, and again, above all Hawthorne Tische wished to give Harper what she wanted, and ensure that she'd never forget this night, or regret having returned to the Manor. If that meant he'd need to spank her until her ass was black-and blue, and the skin of her thighs welted from the leather of a whip, and she'd carry the bruises around with her for the next week, then so be it. Hawthorne was more than happy to oblige. Her screams, and moans, and groans, would only serve to turn him on even further, and when he did fuck Harper, it would be the fuck of her

"You going to cum for me again, slut?" He continued to taunt, as he pushed further and deeper into her tight ass, until his entire shaft was buried insider her, then suddenly, he thrust hips hips, and groaned out loud, bucking and thrashing, and began to pump. Simulataneously, the hand which had teased Lexi's clit dropped further, and he thrust two up into her still soaked slit as his chest slapped against her back, his balls against her butt, and he mattress bounced, forcing his digits to drive into her with every increasing force and speed as he grunted, and panted, and moaned next to her ear, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, and her soaked cunt being finger fucked as he rammed in and out of her ass echoing off the walls along with the sounds of his moans and pants as he got closer to his own release; Karl planning to leave it to the very last minute before he pulled out, so that he could roll the Heiress over, and coat her tight used body in his seed. An image to keep him amused as he went about the rest of his day's

Peter Conn in “Finding a Voice in an New Nation” explains Hawthorne’s mix of psychology and theology.

Hawthorne’s novel, The Scarlet Letter, is a wonderful piece of writing that thoroughly analyzes the critiques and flaws of early Puritan society. Many enjoyable factors are present, including the heavy and enlightening use of symbols to develop Hawthorne’s revolutionary viewpoint as well as the strong portrayal of the characters that challenges ideas of the time. However, the book also has some flaws; most notable including the fact that the writing is an archaic writing style and thus is difficult to parse through as compared to more recent texts. It also lacks many strong motifs – only two or three are continuously present throughout the book, but the total number of motifs briefly developed is in the tens. Altogether the novel is an incredibly enjoyable read and continuously points out problems in Hawthorne’s society that may even still be present today. The novel could use more consistent motif coverage and rely less heavily on older writing styles, but altogether the book is quite splendid.

Hawthorne is calling on the part of the adult that is obsessed with childhood. This is shown using imagery through the narrators infatuation with this young girl. It may not be that he is infatuated with the girl herself, rather what she represents: beautiful, pure, innocence – childhood.