I can’t help it, I do tell occasional little white lies. Sometimes I simply stretch the truth a little, or gild the occasional lily.
But it’s my tongue, it has a mind of its own. It flutters, it rasps, it corkscrews. All the little things that matter when attending to the needs of a lady.
But what really pushes the ‘occasional’ lady over the edge, is when I allow it to split in two.
Now, your mind is working overtime, what it’s like to feel it buried deep in two separate places.? Or, what it’s like to be me?
