I am birdie boy. I play with my biride. I rub it and abuse it. It drives me crazy. I rub it hard until it is all red and the skin is puffy and sore. It sticks way up in the air. Then I rub it until it spurts cream all over. Sometimes Mother catches me. When she does I get punished because I’m not allowed to abuse my birdie. Mother gets angry that I broke her rules. Mother says it’s not a toy for my amusement. I don’t get caught very often. I can’t stop rubbing it. I have to do it.
