Tablecloth Blues

“Dinner is almost finished. Will you scratch my back? It’s so itchy…”

As he gets up from the table, and then heads towards the cave he says, “I’ll think about it…”

She’s still itchy and knows, even if he is taking the piss, the itch will not be adequately scratched any time in the near future.

The tablecloth has embroidered bumps which move along the fabric in perfectly proportioned lines. It suits her obsessive nature.

She takes off her top, and then she begins to rub her back against the tablecloth.

The salt and pepper shakers fall over with a bump, the tomato sauce bottle rolls onto the floor, and the plates start to move towards the edge.

He comes out to investigate the cause of the noise, only to find his pretty girl scratching her back on the tablecloth.

“Are you quite alright there?”

“I’m itchy!”

“I’d better scratch you then…”

“No groping! Be nice!”

“I’m always nice, and you know it.”

She turns her head and gives him a sideways eye smile, as she starts to moan from the wonderful scratch.

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