Getting Off

Getting OffIt Began in innocence and guilt, in wonder and in secret fumblings. We fumbled first with ourselves, taking surreptitious inventory of that fascinating private stock stashed in the slightly damp and sour cellars of our underwear. There was much to explore, more hinted mysteries than seemed containable in such a pink, hairless, unfulfilled nub. One knew, of course, its bathroom duties--but nothing more. Somehow, it gave the impression of not delivering the full promise of its design.An...