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.
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'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.'
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Her body tensed and quivered as she felt wave after wave flow through it.
I probably should have told her about the new electric fence.
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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.'
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'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.
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She was at the bottom of the stairs. Frantically I tore off her dress, bra and knickers.
My heart was racing but I just managed to close the wardrobe door before she entered the bedroom.
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'Hurt me!' she begged, leaning over the dining table expectantly.
'OK,' I replied, 'Your turkey's too dry and your sprouts are overcooked.'
-------------------------
She leaned over the kitchen table. 'Smack that bottom,' she squealed,'Smack it hard!'
'I am,' I said, 'But the ketchup just won't come out.'
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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.
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'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.
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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.
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'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.
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