Iffy crushes
Who would you like to have sex with who isn't probably top of everyone's list and why?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 14:54)
Who would you like to have sex with who isn't probably top of everyone's list and why?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 14:54)
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Baroness Thatcher
Hear me out.
Not nowadays obviously, but back in her prime as the dynamic, groundbreaking, most important woman in the world heyday.
Imagine if you will the thrill of an illicit liaison in the corridors of power...
You in your sharp pin-stripe whistle, the PM in a racing green tartan suit with shoulderpads and the finest pearls on her pale neck, her blouse open just enough for you to get an idea of the lazy curve that leads to her puffy, ginger-girl breasts.
She beckons you into her private office and once the oak door slides shut behind you she grabs you by the tie and pulls you over to her desk.
Over the next few minutes she strips you to you Churchs and sockgarters, ordering you to spread yourself across the green leather of her desktop. Her voice is commanding but unlike her usual powerful oratory there is a hint of derision. She intends to fuck you like everyone else.
Looking back over your shoulder you see the baroness in all her glory, a metallic strapon clamped over her M&S unmentionables, startled, you turn to face her both appalled and aroused as you realise the true origin of her nickname 'The Iron Lady'.
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 16:48, 9 replies)
Hear me out.
Not nowadays obviously, but back in her prime as the dynamic, groundbreaking, most important woman in the world heyday.
Imagine if you will the thrill of an illicit liaison in the corridors of power...
You in your sharp pin-stripe whistle, the PM in a racing green tartan suit with shoulderpads and the finest pearls on her pale neck, her blouse open just enough for you to get an idea of the lazy curve that leads to her puffy, ginger-girl breasts.
She beckons you into her private office and once the oak door slides shut behind you she grabs you by the tie and pulls you over to her desk.
Over the next few minutes she strips you to you Churchs and sockgarters, ordering you to spread yourself across the green leather of her desktop. Her voice is commanding but unlike her usual powerful oratory there is a hint of derision. She intends to fuck you like everyone else.
Looking back over your shoulder you see the baroness in all her glory, a metallic strapon clamped over her M&S unmentionables, startled, you turn to face her both appalled and aroused as you realise the true origin of her nickname 'The Iron Lady'.
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 16:48, 9 replies)
That's not iffy.
That's seriously wrong.
Thatcher?
Get some help, for all our sakes.
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 16:56, closed)
That's seriously wrong.
Thatcher?
Get some help, for all our sakes.
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 16:56, closed)
its bad when your idea of a great time
is another mans way of keeping the wolf from the door
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 17:02, closed)
is another mans way of keeping the wolf from the door
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 17:02, closed)
That's the best euphemism for the male orgasm I've read in a long time.
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 17:14, closed)
( , Thu 6 Oct 2011, 17:14, closed)
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