“I say, Mr. Cribbage,” cried an old master′s-mate, to the caterer, who had entered shortly after the tea-kettles, and assumed his place at the end of the table, “what sort of stuff do you call this?”

Some children cannot bear the feel of water on their skin, which has obvious practical problems as well as hindering the possibilities of waterplay.

So, don't fret. There is always subtext to be found if you believe there is.And, if you get tired of just imagining it, read some smutfic. I bet you'll find some tasty pairings there.

[']The ugly truth is, Gerald,' she said viciously, 'that you're a phoney, a rotten, bombasting phoney, trying to cover up from all the world,[…][']