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IF FIFTY SHADES OF GREY WERE TO BE WRITTEN BY A MAN
At the touch of her lips, it grew long and swollen. I sighed as she skilfully squeezed and pulled it. 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.
As I lay there on the floor, my naked body covered in treacle and whipped cream, I heard those inevitable words . . . 'Clean up on aisle three.'
'Are you ready to be tortured in a way that only a woman can torture a man?' she asked. I nodded nervously. 'OK' she said and ate my chips.
'Hurt me, hurt me!' she begged, leaning expectantly over the table. 'OK,' I replied, 'Your turkey is too dry and your sprouts are overcooked.'
She stood there, trembling in the shed.
"I'm yours for the night," she gasped, "You can do whatever you want."
So we went to McDonalds.
I lay back spent, gazing dreamily out the shed window.
Despite all my concerns about my chronic lack of experience, I could see that the rhubarb had come up a treat.
"Put on this rubber suit and mask," I instructed, icily.
"Hmm, kinky," she purred.
"Well," I said, "we can't be too careful, not with all that asbestos in the shed roof."
Ever since she read THAT book, I've had to purchase all sorts of ropes, chains and shackles.
She is still managing to get into that shed, though.
She wanted to try telephone sex so I pretended to be an IT support guy. I turned her on. Then I turned her off. Then I turned her on again.
They asked me to fully smear their naked bodies with the produce from my herb garden but I just couldn't do it. Too many women, not enough thyme.
"Are you certain you can stand the pain?" she snarled, brandishing the stilettos.
"Well, I think I can," I gulped. "Here we go, then," she said... then she showed me the till-receipt.
'Harder!' she cried, gripping the workbench even tighter, 'Harder!' 'Alright,' I said, 'What is the gross national product of Nicaragua?'
'I want it now against this wall!' she commanded, 'And keep it up as long as possible.'
'Don't worry,' I said, 'I know full well how to put up a shelf.'
She shook and spasmed as she felt wave after wave zapping through her body. I probably should have told her about that electric fence.
She leant over the kitchen table. 'Oh, smack that bottom,' she squealed, 'Smack it hard!' 'I am,' I said, 'but the darned ketchup just won't come out.'
'What do you think about using toys for extra kicks in the bedroom?' she asked. 'Fine,' I said, 'although I don't know how we're going to get a Scalextric in here.'
We tried various positions - round the back, on the side, and up against the wall... but in the end we came to the conclusion that the end of the garden was plainly the correct place for the shed.
She knelt before me on the shed floor and tugged gently at first, then harder until finally it came.
I groaned with pleasure. Right, now for the other boot.
"Are you sure you want this?" I asked, "only, when I'm done, you won't be able to sit down for weeks."
"Right," I said, putting the three-piece suite on eBay.
"Pleasure and pain can be experienced simultaneously," she purred, gently caressing my neck as we listened to her Coldplay CD.
'I am your slave,' she gasped breathlessly, 'Make me feel completely helpless and thoroughly worthless.' So I locked her in the shed and went to the pub.
Her body trembled and shook. 'Hurry, I cannot wait any longer, do it now!' she groaned. 'OK,' I said and got the winter duvet down from the airing cupboard.
'Hurt me!' she groaned, pressing her tense body against the shed wall. 'Alright,' I said. 'You're a terrible cook and I fancy your sister.'
'Yes! Stick it right up there,' she urged, 'I want to remember this!' I did so, then tapped it firmly. You can never be too careful with Post-it notes.
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.
'I am a very bad girl,' she whispered, 'Punish me in a way only a real man can!' 'Right,' I said and left my wet towels on the bathroom floor.
As we sat in the dark restaurant, she stroked my thigh and said 'I want to see your hardness.' 'OK,' I replied, and punched the waiter.