I sit and feel the twitch – a growing feeling; not noticeable yet not unnoticed.
My mind drifts to the amber embrace. What I would and could feel, if only I allowed myself the taste.
I know I don’t need it. That sentence is for my soul, the next one’s for me. Oh to feel the amber embrace!
To be swallowed as I swallow it, the cool warmth filling, a height that’s gained drop by drip, until a faux-orgasmic glow remains.
Arms, lips and mind held tight in an amber embrace…
But what remains? A dream distended and pleasant morning ended before it has begun.
All for the fun (and love) of the amber embrace.
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Written one friday evening when I was hankering for a beer…can you tell?