She had been reared by both parents to know that concupiscence was at the center of male attention; she learned it soon enough anyway in the arms of frenzied boys

some special languorous glow which threw garage fellows, hotel pages, vacationists, goons in luxurious cars, maroon morons near blued pools, into fits of concupiscence which might have tickled my pride, had it not incensed my jealousy

Isadora Wing, ragingly concupiscent

It wasn’t his wife I envied most, sleepy in slacks, but his taciturn daughter. She was bored, taut, and concupiscent.

based on the belief that concupiscence is a venal thing, scarcely important, unfit to turn man away from the path to salvation