Daily Archives: September 21, 2015
My dog kept me awake all night.
Don’t think I cooked him properly.
I was having a threesome when the woman I was on top of shouted, “I think I can hear my husband coming.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “I can feel him.”
I got talking to my date about palm reading earlier:
“You can tell a lot about a person from their hand,” I said.
“What can you tell about me?’ she replied.
“You’re a very confident, very warm person,” I smiled.
“Really, how can you tell?”
“Your hand’s on my cock.”
“Dad, I’m not adopted am I?”
“Course not, son. Do you think anyone would put up with you if they had a choice in the matter?”
My wife came home from work and flopped into a chair, exhausted.
“Darling,” I said. “When was the last time I ran you a bath with scented candles, gave you a massage and tucked you up in bed with a glass of cold champagne?”
“Never,” she replied.
“Exactly,” I said. “Get in the fucking kitchen and cook my dinner.”
Apparently I do weird things during sex.
Like looking over my shoulder to see if the police are coming.