nourishing obscurity

For the boys:

≈  We tried various positions – round the back, on the side, up against a wall … but in the end we came to the conclusion the bottom of the garden was the only place for a good shed.

≈  She knelt before me on the shed floor and tugged gently at first, then harder until finally it came.  I moaned with pleasure. Now for the other boot.

≈  Ever since she read THAT book, I’ve had to buy all kinds of ropes, chains and shackles. She still manages to get into the shed, though.

≈  “I’m a very naughty girl,” she said, biting her lip. “I need to be punished.”  So I invited my mum to stay for the weekend.

≈  “Harder!” she cried, gripping the workbench tightly. “Harder!”  “Okay,” I said. “What’s the gross national product of Nicaragua?”

≈ “Are you sure you can take the pain?” she demanded, brandishing stilettos.  “I think so,” I gulped.   “Here we go, then,” she said, and showed me the receipt.

≈  “Are you sure you want this?” I asked. “When I’m done, you won’t be able to sit down for weeks.”  She nodded.  “Okay,” I said, putting the three-piece suite on eBay.

≈  “Punish me!” she cried.  “Make me suffer like only a real man can!”  “Very well,” I replied, leaving the toilet seat up.

- from the famous Fifty Sheds of Grey, by Colin Grey

Filed under: Humour, Literature & performing arts, Rossa