“In quick time his interest flipped neatly from hard structures to the soft parts supported by them. His growing obsession with the one boneless extension of his own anatomy was matched only by his new appreciation for the soft, fleshy mysteries guarded by the girls around him. Yet when, at fifteen, an impostor in his own life, he found himself buried to the third knuckle in a sighing schoolmate, he was disappointed by the lack of features there. Nothing but warm, giving folds and a roof like his mouth’s palate. He withdrew his hand and rubbed a callus over her prominent hipbone. She sighed again, as loud. She sighed wherever he touched her.”
So damn good. The kind of writing that makes you want to write more, better. Leave it to the Welshman.