50 Shades Of Yorkshire

She left me tied to the chair, unable to move. Luckily there was rugby league on’t telly. The way she moved on holiday gave a whole new meaning to Leeds United away strip. She was dressed to the nines for me, like a chip shop goddess, snapping the clip on her suspenders. “Right then, love,” she told me, “I’m off to bingo.” She looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes full of sensual warmth. “Whippet,” she said, “whippet good.” The dog whimpered. “By ‘eck,” she warned, “I’m going to make tha peas the mushiest ever, big lad.” He was dressed in a dark blue suit that was nothing less that Burton’s best, the dog hair lovingly brushed from the material, with a C&A bri-nylon shirt and his Leeds Rhinos tie. His Hush ~Puppies has been cleaned, the brown suede crisp, the soles silent as he walked to meet her. Later, at home, he hung up the jacket. “What’s that?” she asked in surprise. “Belt…and braces,” he whispered in her ear, knowing that she loved a man who looked after himself. She ran calloused fingertips between his shirt buttons, pressing herself close to him so he could take in the scent of salt and vinegar crisps. “Oh luv,” she said adoringly, feel the juices run as she held his kebab tightlu “you wore the string vest.”

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