How about you?
I've always thought of myself as a bit of a floozy, but apparently not. Apparently I'm secretly a 19th Century prim and proper Governess, who balks at the flagrant and sordid behaviour of the Lord of the Manor.
I just can't get the winkies to go in the moomins, sometimes. They run away from me, afraid of my shame barrier. My shame barrier is like a waterchute, and all the cocks and fannies and tits and nipples and bumholes and quims and cunts and clits and bubbies and writhing wriggling bodes slide off down it into the abyss of propriety.