“I'm 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.
'I want it now against this wall!' she ordered, 'And keep it up as long as possible.' 'Don't worry,' I said, 'I know how to put up a shelf.'
As we sat in the dark restaurant, she stroked my thigh and said 'I want to see your hardness.' 'Alright,' I replied, and punched the waiter.
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 I'd seen.
Staring at her naked body, I asked what she wanted. She told me to go for something between a smack and a stroke. So I went for a smoke.
'How do you feel about using toys in the bedroom?' she asked. 'Fine,' I said, 'But I can't see how we're going to fit a Scalextric in here.'
Her body tensed and quivered as she felt wave after wave flow through it. I probably should've told her about the new electric fence.
As I lay there on the floor, my body covered in treacle and whipped cream, I heard those inevitable words . . . 'Clean up 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.
Frantically I tore off her dress, bra and knickers. My heart was racing but I just managed to close the wardrobe door before she got home.
'Hurt me!' she begged, leaning over the dining table expectantly. 'OK,' I replied, 'Your turkey's 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 won't come out.'
She wanted to try phone sex so I pretended to be an IT support guy. It turned her on. Then it turned her off. Then it turned her on again.
They asked me to smear their naked bodies with the produce from my herb garden but I just couldn't do it. Too many women, not enough thyme.
'I'm 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 can't wait any longer, do it now!' she cried. 'OK,' I said and got the winter duvet from the airing cupboard.
'Harder!' she cried, gripping the workbench even tighter, 'Harder!' 'Alright,' I said, 'What's the gross national product of Nicaragua?'
'Hurt me!' she cried, pressing her body up against the shed wall. 'Alright,' I said. 'You're a terrible cook and I fancy your sister.'
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