posted on Jan, 14 2013 @ 07:15 AM
Greetings to you all,
Ok guys, time to get your own back.
I heard from a friend last week about a parody called 50 Sheds of grey written by a certain Mr Colin Trevor Grey...
Am thinking of buying it myself but would like to hear from anyone who has read it first.
Here are a few extracts i found that i thought quite funny and to get your eyes watering :
I LAY back exhausted, gazing happily out of the shed _ Despite my concerns about my inexperience, my rhubarb had come up a treat.
She stood before me, trembling and naked in my shed. “I’m yours for the night,” she gasped, “You can do whatever you want with me.” So I
took her to Nando’s.
We stood alone on the idyllic white beach. She shed her clothes. I shed my inhibitions. At that moment I knew it would always be about sheds.
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
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?”
“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
“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.
My body writhed and quivered from the pain. I had learned my next lesson. Never again would I leave an upturned plug on the shed floor.
“Pleasure and pain can be experienced simultaneously,” she said, gently massaging my back as we listened to her Coldplay CD.