Tame by comparison, you pack of preverts!
After a glorious Friday night on the juice with the lads, I attempted to make up for it (as promised) with a romantic night spent attempting to please 'her indoors'. All was going swimmingly, nice indian meal washed down with a bottle or three of overpriced grape-juice. She even managed to crack a smile once or twice, I could see that cheky little glimmer of success sin her eye and knew things would improve vastly once we got home.

It was in the taxi, however that things started to go awry. That tasty curry-roast labrador must've had a disagreement with last night's scabby-cat-in-a-pitta-bread and they began chasing around my battered intestines. With those two greasy animal carcasses sloshing around in the remnants of the previous nights guiness invasion and marinading themselves in chateau-condemned, something had to give. It started at the top first, with a belch that Grandad would've thought drifted from a trench in the Somme. I managed to pass that off with the swift consumption of several of the mints presented to me with the bill earlier.
Casa del Greencloud was eventually reached, and the cabbie received a rather generous tip due to my desperate urge to splurge and reluctance to wait for change from the skoda driving pikey twunt. She's still rather keen, and lingers for several minutes of 'heavy petting' on the doorstep before entering the lurve palace (don't know why - we've lived together for years - perhaps that nosy biatch over the road was watching and my lustful queen wanted to give the old net-twitcher something to watch?!)
I eventually managed to get her into the bedroom and by this time, I didn't even want sex anymore - my only desire was for her to put the babywipes in the fridge while I evacuate my riotous bowel. But being eager to please and still attempting redemption for my boyish shenanigans, I decided she could have a quickie before I depart to the porcelain throne.
It was then it came, I bent over further than I really should have in my attempt to speeden things up with a bout of cunnilingus and the beast escaped.
The sound was that of a 52 piece brass band simultaneously coughing into their mouth-pieces, the vibration was enough to rattle the over-sized Ikea prints on the far side of the wall. Her face looked like she just found me in a swordid frisson with her grandparents. My only saving grace was that I somehow managed to avoid redecorating the room with my tan-emulsion.
Needless to say my slumber was not of the highest quality that fateful evening. After an un-fathomable amount of time on the pot (no cooled baby wipes for this bad lad - I'm surprised she didn't swipe the quilted velvet for my crime!) I managed a couple of hours squeezed onto our sofa (2 seater - I'm 6"3').

Sex - Rarely nowadays
Offender - I certainly did.

No joke relating to excessive length (it could only be measured in volume - how long would 12 pints be?)
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Wed 23 Aug 2006, 16:07, Reply)