Nightly musings:

There's something strange about my perception of pleasure. Spine-tingling pleasure isn't hyperbole enough to explain the intensity of the tiny shivers that dance over the surface of my skin. These inexpressive tickles ripple out from my scalp, down through my hair, bursting out lightly onto my arms.

Each tone of the music - the change of even just scale - laps the pleasure ripples out gently, and quickly. The only outward indication a slight closing of my eyes, born of concentration on this licking of tongues. At times, when my perception is transformed, rather than small the tongues become large... blowing over my skin in large gusts. Waves moving greatly out from my mind, like a slow stepback from the world.