Food for thought

My missus bought a paperback
In Asda Saturday,
I had a look inside the bag
T’was "Fifty Shades of Grey"


Well I just left her to it, see,
And went off up to bed
An hour later, she appeared
Oh the sight filled me with dread.

In her hand she held a rope
The other, held a whip
She brandished them around a bit
And then began to strip.

Well forty years or so, ago,
I might have had a peek
But Doris hasn’t weathered well
She’s sixty-eight next week.

Watching Doris bump and grind
Couldn’t be much grimmer
And things progressed from bad to worse
She toppled off her Zimmer

She struggled back up to her feet,
A good half hour later,
Put her teeth back in and said
That I must dominate her

Now if you knew our Doris, see,
You’d know just why I cringed.
I’d been two months in traction, cos
My hips and knees unhinged.

She stood there nude. All naked, like,
Bent forward quite a bit and
Jumping back in fright I went
And stood on her left tit.

Doris screamed, her teeth shot out,
My word. What HAD I done ?
She moaned and groaned then shouted out
"Step on the OTHER one"

Well reader, I can tell no more
About what occurred that day.
Suffice to say, my dark brown hair,
Turned fifty shades of grey.

Black and blue, battered too,
With wanton, wild perversion,
We decided that a night of sin
Was scarce worth such exertion.

Thank Heavens she has binned the book
And peace reigns, like before.
She’s head to toe in winceyette
And back to back, we snore.