From Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
 

With perfect simplicity, the impudent child extended her legs across my lap. By this time I was in a state of excitement bordering on insanity, but I also had the cunning of the insane. Sitting there, on the sofa, I managed to attune, by a series of stealthy movements, my masked lust to her guileless limbs . . . All the while keeping my maniac's inner eye on my distant golden goal, I cautiously increased the magic friction that was doing away, in an illusional, if not factual, sense, with the physically irremovable, but psychologically very friable texture of the material divide between the weight of two sunburned legs, resting athwart in my lap, and the hidden tumor of my unspeakable passion . . . Every movement she made, every shuffle and ripple, helped me to conceal and to improve the secret system of tactile correspondence between beast and beauty -- between my gagged, bursting beast and the beauty of her dimpled body in its innocent cotton frock.
     Under my glancing finger tips I felt the minute hairs bristle ever so slightly along her shins. I lost myself in the pungent but healthy heat which like summer haze held about her. Let her stay, let her stay . . . The nerves of pleasure had been laid bare. The least pressure would suffice to set all paradise loose . . . My happy hand crept up her sunny leg as far as the shadow of decency allowed . . . Because of her very perfunctory underthings, there seemed to be nothing to prevent my muscular thumb from reaching the hot hollow of her groin . . . She wriggled, and squirmed, and threw her head back . . . and my moaning mouth, gentlemen of the jury, almost reached her bare neck, while I crushed out against her left buttock the last throb of the longest ecstasy man or monster had ever known.