French Idioms/Expressions
- Thread starter Tarakan
- Start date
elfin_odalisque
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2004
- Posts
- 10,056
'She is full of life/energy/vitality' is simple enough. That's just. 'Elle est plein de vie/d'énergie/ de vitalité'.
'Wow!' is a bit more tricky. As an expression of pleasant surprise it can be, 'Oh là là!'. If it's meant as negative surprise, the something like 'Zut!' or 'Zut alors!' is more approprate.
Hope this helps.
'Wow!' is a bit more tricky. As an expression of pleasant surprise it can be, 'Oh là là!'. If it's meant as negative surprise, the something like 'Zut!' or 'Zut alors!' is more approprate.
Hope this helps.
G
Guest
Guest
First, plein is the masculine form; it should be pleine to agree with the Elle.elfin_odalisque said:
Second, be aware that there is a strong hint of preganancy in any sentence starting "Elle est pleine". The more usual form for saying full of is "en plein" as in "Elle est en pleine vie" though this is ambiguous and depends on the tone of voice and context to indicate whether she is full of life or well into middle age!
Many, Many Thanks
Dear All,
To those that kindly replied with idioms and sayings I am very grateful. I appreciate it is not easy without seeing the context in which the idiom or saying is used. I have therefore taken excerpts from a novel I am writing (attempting badly is a truer analysis!) to show the context. I am in no doubt that some I have used will not be contextually correct, but any thoughts corrections are gratefully received!
BACKGROUND - The scene is about two vampyres, both over five hundred years old. The femvamp has trusted the malevamp for many centuries, not knowing he was helping (for his own ends) humans to eradicate vampyres. She has just escaped from his clutches, and is trying to flee..........
EXERPT
Blindfolded and cuffed, Demona clawed her way along the wall, gulping hot, damp air. Warm, mizzling rain fell steadily, saturating the remnants of her Dior suit and lingerie. In desperation, she moulded her body to the brickwork, hoping it would envelope her, make her disappear; make her safe.
She halted, straining for a noise, any noise. Where was he? Why didn’t he call out, why didn’t he end her torment? All she could hear was the rasping of her own frantic breathing, and the hissing of the incessant rain.
Rivulets of water poured down her face, and she began to sob. Heavy tears mingled with the water flowing into the valley between her heaving breasts, permeating every curve and contour of her lush body. She had managed to escape, but where was she?
‘You think you can simply run from me? She froze. The steady rhythm of approaching footsteps grew louder.
‘You can never escape me,’ She shivered.
‘Never,’ His breathe hot on her neck.
‘What do you want from me?’ Her voice trembled. The smell of sweat and cologne filled her head with memories. Whatever they had injected her with was making her light headed, receptive, and salacious. She must fight it.
‘What all men want from you…what we enjoyed in London,’ She shuddered at the deft touch of his roving hands, exploring, and caressing her upper body. She pulled at the cuffs, unable to stop him.
‘A dam good fucking…’ Her silk blouse tore easily - a slew of buttons bounced, and spun on the cobbled stones.
‘You always possessed jour devie!’ His eyes feasted on the tops of her cosseted breasts; two succulent, fleshy mounds quivering invitingly.
AND FURTHER ON.....
Her breasts ached and her nipples, rouge with excited blood strained against his chest. He fell on her breasts pulling on her nipples, and nibbling at their puckered stems.
‘Please….’ He kissed her again, but this time it was her tongue leading his in a wet, wild fandango.
‘Elle est plein d'énergie!’ He eased her away, smiling triumphantly, pleased with his seduction.
AND AGAIN........
His strong hands were under her buttocks lifting her, carrying her backwards, thumping her into the wall, and expelling all breath from her.
‘Oh God….’ Momentarily, the wetness of his hot and sticky cock rested against her inner thigh and she swooned.
‘Oh yes……’ She gasped, her heart raced at the realization he was about to take her, to fuck her blindfolded just the way he had done so many years ago in the stables in London. In a delicious, hedonistic capitulation of her Will, she opened her legs wide and wantonly proffered herself to him.
‘Etre un bourreau des coeurs.’ She whispered sarcastically resigned to her fucking.
‘ The Countess is a whore!’ He replied, delighted at her coquettish behaviour. Dropping, his hips he thrust upward, her wetness parted easily, enwrapping and sucking him in.
‘Oh putain! C'est une vraie bombe!’ He groaned,
‘Oh….. my….. GGGod! Throwing back her head, she cried out as his cock, slick with rainwater glided easily into her, filling her, only stopping when his balls slapped against her thighs. She had, had bigger, but not one with such a fulsome girth raking hard against her g-spot, sending her apoplectic.
‘Elle crie comme un cochon qu’ on egorge!’ He shouted, ridiculing her French accent. Knowing he had control, he slowed his thrusts, savouring each sigh, each moan, each desperate ululation, joined to the suckling spasm of each orgasm that coursed through her body.
ENDS
Tarakan
Dear All,
To those that kindly replied with idioms and sayings I am very grateful. I appreciate it is not easy without seeing the context in which the idiom or saying is used. I have therefore taken excerpts from a novel I am writing (attempting badly is a truer analysis!) to show the context. I am in no doubt that some I have used will not be contextually correct, but any thoughts corrections are gratefully received!
BACKGROUND - The scene is about two vampyres, both over five hundred years old. The femvamp has trusted the malevamp for many centuries, not knowing he was helping (for his own ends) humans to eradicate vampyres. She has just escaped from his clutches, and is trying to flee..........
EXERPT
Blindfolded and cuffed, Demona clawed her way along the wall, gulping hot, damp air. Warm, mizzling rain fell steadily, saturating the remnants of her Dior suit and lingerie. In desperation, she moulded her body to the brickwork, hoping it would envelope her, make her disappear; make her safe.
She halted, straining for a noise, any noise. Where was he? Why didn’t he call out, why didn’t he end her torment? All she could hear was the rasping of her own frantic breathing, and the hissing of the incessant rain.
Rivulets of water poured down her face, and she began to sob. Heavy tears mingled with the water flowing into the valley between her heaving breasts, permeating every curve and contour of her lush body. She had managed to escape, but where was she?
‘You think you can simply run from me? She froze. The steady rhythm of approaching footsteps grew louder.
‘You can never escape me,’ She shivered.
‘Never,’ His breathe hot on her neck.
‘What do you want from me?’ Her voice trembled. The smell of sweat and cologne filled her head with memories. Whatever they had injected her with was making her light headed, receptive, and salacious. She must fight it.
‘What all men want from you…what we enjoyed in London,’ She shuddered at the deft touch of his roving hands, exploring, and caressing her upper body. She pulled at the cuffs, unable to stop him.
‘A dam good fucking…’ Her silk blouse tore easily - a slew of buttons bounced, and spun on the cobbled stones.
‘You always possessed jour devie!’ His eyes feasted on the tops of her cosseted breasts; two succulent, fleshy mounds quivering invitingly.
AND FURTHER ON.....
Her breasts ached and her nipples, rouge with excited blood strained against his chest. He fell on her breasts pulling on her nipples, and nibbling at their puckered stems.
‘Please….’ He kissed her again, but this time it was her tongue leading his in a wet, wild fandango.
‘Elle est plein d'énergie!’ He eased her away, smiling triumphantly, pleased with his seduction.
AND AGAIN........
His strong hands were under her buttocks lifting her, carrying her backwards, thumping her into the wall, and expelling all breath from her.
‘Oh God….’ Momentarily, the wetness of his hot and sticky cock rested against her inner thigh and she swooned.
‘Oh yes……’ She gasped, her heart raced at the realization he was about to take her, to fuck her blindfolded just the way he had done so many years ago in the stables in London. In a delicious, hedonistic capitulation of her Will, she opened her legs wide and wantonly proffered herself to him.
‘Etre un bourreau des coeurs.’ She whispered sarcastically resigned to her fucking.
‘ The Countess is a whore!’ He replied, delighted at her coquettish behaviour. Dropping, his hips he thrust upward, her wetness parted easily, enwrapping and sucking him in.
‘Oh putain! C'est une vraie bombe!’ He groaned,
‘Oh….. my….. GGGod! Throwing back her head, she cried out as his cock, slick with rainwater glided easily into her, filling her, only stopping when his balls slapped against her thighs. She had, had bigger, but not one with such a fulsome girth raking hard against her g-spot, sending her apoplectic.
‘Elle crie comme un cochon qu’ on egorge!’ He shouted, ridiculing her French accent. Knowing he had control, he slowed his thrusts, savouring each sigh, each moan, each desperate ululation, joined to the suckling spasm of each orgasm that coursed through her body.
ENDS
Tarakan
LadyCibelle
Always magnificient.
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2002
- Posts
- 3,042
Tarakan said:
All the bits in bold red above are the corrections I've made. French is a tricky language, I know, but even with your small mistakes you've managed to grasp the flavour of the French language and make it sound real.
