“He reached over and touched his finger very delicately to the edge of one of its straps, near my collarbone, but instead of pushing it down and off my shoulder as I thought he would, he ran his finger slowly along then upper edge of my bra in front and then traced it all the way down around the bottom. I watched his face while he did this. It seemed more intimate than kissing him had. By the time he’d finished outlining the whole thing, he’d barely touched me and yet I was so wet I could hardly stand up.”
— Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
Tagged: Sex, erotica, Kissing
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Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

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