Fifty Sheds of Grey

The following story was sent to me by John Bridges, friend, adviser and one of the most knowledgeable and best connected corporate financiers I have had the privilege to meet. With some 150 years of experience in the City John still knows what rocks. Who the originator is of Fifty Sheds of Grey I do not know, but it is published with thanks and a smile.

The novel “Fifty Shades of Grey” has seduced women – and baffled blokes.  Fifty Sheds of Grey offers a treat for the men. The book has author Colin Grey recounting his love encounters at the bottom of the garden. Here are some extracts from “Fifty Sheds of Grey”:

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 good place for the shed.She stood before me, trembling in my shed. “I’m yours for the night,” she gasped, “You can do whatever you want with me.”  So I took her to McDonalds.

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.

“Put on this rubber suit and mask,” I instructed, calmly.  “Mmmm, kinky!” she purred. “Yes,” I said, “You can’t be too careful with all that asbestos in the shed roof.”

“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?”

I lay back exhausted, gazing happily out of the shed  window. Despite my concerns about my inexperience, my rhubarb had come up a treat.

“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

“Hurt me!” she begged, raising her skirt as she bent over my workbench. “Very well,” I replied. “You’ve got fat ankles and no dress sense.”

“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.

“Pleasure and pain can be experienced simultaneously,”  she said, gently massaging my back as we listened to her Coldplay CD.

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