If Fifty shades of grey had been written by a man. At the touch of her lips, it grew long and swollen. I sighed as she squeezed and pulled expertly. It was the best balloon giraffe Id seen. How do you feel about using toys in the bedroom? she asked. Fine, I said, But I cant see how were going to fit a Scalextric in here. Her body tensed and quivered as she felt wave after wave flow through it. I probably shouldve told her about the new electric fence. As I lay there on the floor, my naked body covered in treacle and whipped cream, I heard those inevitable words . . . Clean up required on aisle 3. Are you ready to be tortured in a way only a woman can torture a man? she asked. I nodded nervously. OK she said and ate half my chips. Hurt me! she begged, leaning over the dining table expectantly. OK, I replied, Your turkeys too dry and your sprouts are overcooked. She leant over the kitchen table. Smack that bottom, she squealed, Smack it hard! I am, I said, But the ketchup just wont come out. They asked me to smear their naked bodies with the produce from my herb garden but I just couldnt do it. Too many women, not enough thyme. Im your slave, she said breathlessly, Make me feel completely helpless and worthless. So I locked her in the shed and went to the pub. Her body trembled and shook. I cant wait any longer, do it now! she cried. OK, I said and got the winter duvet from the airing cupboard. My tongue flicked in and out, in and out, faster and faster until she was completely helpless. No woman can resist a good lizard impression. Im a bad girl, she whispered, Punish me in a way only a real man can! Alright, I said and left my wet towels on the bathroom floor.
Posted on: Sat, 30 Aug 2014 18:22:48 +0000
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