Ever since then, I've been obsessed with it. My tongue. I
can't stop touching it, playing with it. At night I find myself
stroking it, I'm in a constant state of arousal. It feels...huge,
huge and fleshy and wet and growing in my mouth, sometimes hard,
sometimes velvety soft, liquid, languid, language, love, oh God,
all the things I couldn't say or do or feel if it were gone.
Do you know how many nerve endings there are in the tongue? As
many as in the head of a penis. But the penis doesn't have tastebuds.
And you know how men sometimes give their penis its own name,
almost like it's a separate person? I swear, sometimes my tongue
is so completely...Other, it doesn't even feel like part of me.
It has its own ideas: what it wants to say -- what it wants to
taste -- where it wants to push its way into. You know how your
mother used to say, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach?"
Wrong. All that hunger? (tapping the tip of her tongue) It's
right here. (CONTINUES )
