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 donâ€™t need it. That sentence is for my soul, the next oneâ€™s for me. Oh to feel the amber embrace!
To be swallowed as I swallow it, the cool warmth filling, a height thatâ€™s gained drop by drip, until a faux-orgasmic glow remains.
Arms, lips and mind held tight in an amber embraceâ€¦
But what remains? A dream distended and pleasant morning ended before it has begun.
All for the fun (and love) of the amber embrace.
Written one friday evening when I was hankering for a beer…can you tell?