Tiffany looked confused. Despite her painful familiarity with Buford’s games, she wasn’t sure what the “Ringer” was.
Buford intuitively sensed what she was thinking, as he so often did. “The ‘Wringer’,” he said, “now that was a fun game, with one lip caught tightly between the soles of both boots, pulling on the lip, seeing how far it would stretch, before it somehow managed to pull free. I really liked that game.”
Tiffany’s tender nether lips began to ache in empathetic response to Buford’s story. Tiffany began to wonder whether they really did have a mind of their own.
“Anyway,” said Buford, “I really enjoyed playing with your pretty pussy lips, and I definitely got the better of them, which put me in a much better mood by the time I finally got around to feeding you your meal.”