Writing about People -- Expressions

Her elbows clung tight to her sides, her hands clasped between the impossible globes of sweatshirt-wrapped flesh jutting from her chest. She spread her fingers, unable to fully encompass them... Those mounds couldn’t be hers... and yet she could feel small hands groping her chest, lifting, rubbing, pressing into the deep softness until curious fingers began to trace the outlines of stiff nipples rising from their peaks. Those couldn’t be hers... they were as big as the last joint of her thumb. They were arrogant. Extravagant. And completely undisguised by the stretched grey fabric clinging to them. They mocked any attempt to hide her rising excitement. They practically begged to be tweaked...
Her eyes widened in shocked surprise and her mouth opened as if to cry out... then her eyes narrowed as a shuddering, jittery ripple of pleasure bounced around her body until it seemed to sparkle at the top of her skull, caught in her long hair. Her elbows ground tiny circles into her ribs as her chest heaved. She tried to gasp, but the indrawn breath caught in her throat, her arms and neck clenching tight as the feeling shook her without signs of stopping. She hung there quivering for several agonizing moments before she realized she was literally hanging, her tightly scrunched toes inches above the glass-speckled carpet. How... Why... Could she actually have had a boob-gasm? And was she FLYING?!?