I would liken it to a sudden dance of a cliche romantic book where two lovers dance. She, wearing a silken dress of no less than the finest threads is seduced by him and he lands his hands in the small of her back barely missing the roundness of what she does not lack His fingers glide smooth over the suppleness of the silk gripping a small taste like a kitten to the last drop of milk and she giggles, flaunts a bit has one last twhirl before she has to sit he, intrigued, grabs that piece of fabric- and it glides through hands like lotion on a hard dick. Just like that, poof! The reverie begins to awake and suddenly what he grabbed on to, begins to shake he can't keep the rhythm, stumbling to keep her flow she two steps and dances in circles around, no time to slow feeling satisfied, she hits the signature move by the last stance and he sits there, still remembering that slip in in his fingers of that last dance. Dream, Declined. -b.r.rivera-taylor