" Handful by handful, I wind up the hem of your dress. My fingers plunge inside you fro behind, so cold, so shocking. You take a small step to the side to open yourself to them. I know you don't have panties on. The back of your dress is cut too low. You reach for my hand and push it in deeper. Your dormant desire becomes unquenchable. You scoop one leg around the back of my thighs, pulling me in closer, rubbing against my hardness, and I'm pushing and you're rubbing, pushing and rubbing, pushing and rubbing, and my hand is drenched and you're begging for me to push deeper and you can't press close enough into my body, and then, ah, you're digging your nails into my back under my jacket and pulling away from my mouth to muffle your cry against my shoulder." She was no longer looking at him. She had closed her eyes and was moaning as though she had climaxed. "

― , The Summer Kitchen