It’s not really like I have a choice in the matter. I was born this way.
It wasn’t nurture – for my favorite sister who grew up in the same household, raised by the same parents & bound by the same morals and ‘rules of the house’ shares not in my intimate preference.
Yet, for me, it’s such an overwhelming no-brainier that occasionally when indulging in my first tryst of the day, I even mumble to myself some variety or mash up of “how could someone possibly not like this?’ and/or ‘whoever doesn’t like this is messed up.’
It’s at once a weak-kneed, orally arousing tour de force lubricating lips, throat, body & mind simultaneously. A euphoric yin / yang of letting go / holding back / uninhibited indulging / conscious moderation … all while flirting ever so cautiously with going over the edge of the abyss. Whew.
And, as if all that weren’t enough – It Does A Body Good. So they say.
Milk. Oh My Gosh. White & wonderful. Wickedly, decadently delirium inducing deliciousness. No wonder cows always appear so tranquil and at peace with themselves and the Universe. And why some cultures go as far as to revere them as 4-legged deities.
This elixir they produce, this creamy white juice- this otherworldly tasty, life-giving sluice – is the Greater Sum yielded by a pinch of alchemy ; a dash of infinity and a wee small whisper of a sorcerer’s tear.
In his mind, he touches an imperceptible kiss to his Grandmother’s cheek. And can just faintly hear her repeat one of her favorite sayings: “You Can’t Make a Silk Purse out of a Sow’s Ear.”
‘Oh, my dear Granny – you are so right.’
‘And I didn’t.’
Nodding and smiling to himself over what a profound effect the least little thing can have on the Overall, the Sorcerer sits back. Tilts his hat down over his eyes.
In this case: it was one simple letter.
Smiles as he feels a solitary tear tickle the corner of his mouth.
… A Story For: 3 generations … MFG / MFM / MFS …