You need to at least talk about what's going on. You have too many good years together to just toss them away like this dad." I'll talk ... but will y...ur mother?" If you show up, I'll make sure she is there. Uh ... just come as you are dad ... no guns or weapons or junk okay? I mean, I know you're mad and everything and your talk may ignite more anger between you two ... but you need to work things out, or figure out what you're going to do. You can't stew on this for very long, neither of. It was Bridget McLeod.“Victor,” she sang in her Scottish lilt, “James and I were talking about your visit, and your news about your sister. Would you consider coming to us for Christmas and Hogmanay? There are going to be a few guests who come every year. Better than being on your own, and you’ve been through a wee bit of trouble from what we’ve read in the papers.”Victor was delighted. “Thank you Bridget,” he smiled, “I was just wondering what to do about Christmas, and I had decided to try to. "With that he leaned over, put his big arms around me and kissed me. I kissed him back timidly and his big right hand enveloped my cock and balls."Talk to me," he said quietly. "I think you've got things to tell me. Or shall I guess?"I nodded."No," I said. "Not exactly." Tell me, then," he said tenderly. "It's okay. No one will know about this and it's an opportunity to have an... enjoyable time. Get something off your chest. Or maybe I'll wank on your chest, would you like that?"Suddenly I was. The dichotomy was almost too much for Galatea to bear. Nothing she had experienced so far had prepared her for contradiction, so she saw no contradiction. She ached to communicate with her creator and say, "Do not despair. I am here. And I am all that you seek." But, she could not speak, being marble and, as yet, her head being roughly carved with no lips.Soon enough, she had lips. Her creator came to her every day upon waking and stayed late into the night until collapsing in exhaustion. When.