Her presence was sturdy and watery at once, arms weirdly muscled, nipples like small tongues riding on the mercurial flesh that glided on his surface, thighs smooth to where his fingers plummeted inside, followed by the rest of him. The golf-ball cyst swam too, faintly present against him, a feature, not a bug. Tira, for all her usual chatter, wasn't a screamer or even a moaner. In the silence their breaths fell into concert with the whining Murphy springs. Bruno's mind felt poured into hers as well, at least conveyed a great distance out of his body. The
( Jonathan Lethem )
[ A Gambler's Anatomy: A Novel ]
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