The Taste of Submission
She cupped them with both hands, the soft, yielding flesh giving way to her touch.
She closed her eyes, the diary was forgotten on the floor beside her. The image from the book flashed behind her eyelids, the writer’s description of the stranger's rough, calloused cock. Pinky squeezed her breasts, her fingers digging into the soft flesh, mimicking that imagined touch. She pinched her nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation was sharp, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to her core.