"Her touch at the nape of his neck, sharp fingernails trailing along his spine, soft, warm pads on the small of his back, strong digits grasping his flat, firm buttocks made his being soar like a schooner caught in a squall. Then she located his main mast and, with small, sure strokes, began to hoist sail."
Reader submission by theahole
Uncle Walter cannot verify ownership of submissions, but he'll take your word for it.
Shelter #18: Taboo Territory -- Paul Ledd
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