..I didn’t mean�� I didn’t know what to say. The last thing I wanted to do was to make her angry.�And, really, I can’t believe it gives yo... any great pleasure either.�She was right, of course. Twice a month I climbed onto the laundry-folding table in the basement, propped myself up on my elbows and knees, butt in the air, while my wife pushed her fingers deep into my anus in order to �milk� my prostate. I can’t honestly say that it felt good, nothing like an orgasm—well, how I remember an. I don’t write much. Some of my readers actually tell me that my dialogue is very realistic. Mom likes it, except she wants to run a red pencil over everything I write. She says to perfect my ‘Voice.’ Until yesterday, I didn’t even know what a ‘Voice’ was. She explained it to me. At least, she tried to,” I said.Her hands were still on her hips, waiting for me to verbally assault her.“Debbie, sit down please, I have something I need to say to you, and you’d better be sitting down,” I said, trying. More

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