The tale of the whip antenna

My lovely lady and I were making passionate love in the back of one of my work’s vans.

These things happen, ok?  It had been a long day, ok?

Suddenly, she yelled out, “Oh fat boy, whip me, whip me!”

Not wanting to pass up this unique opportunity, but obviously not having any whips to hand, I, in a flash of inspiration, opened the window.  I reached out and snapped one of the aerials clean off the van.

Hey, it was a ‘whip’ antenna, ok?

Anyway, I proceeded to whip my young lady until she finally collapsed in sado-masochistic ecstasy.

About a week later, she noticed that the marks left by the whipping were not healing and starting to fester a bit.  She waited a few days but it didn’t get any better.  Feeling really embarrassed she finally went to the doctor.

The doctor took one look at the wounds and asked, “Did you get these marks having sex?”

Further embarrassed, my good lady held back a bit before eventually saying, “Ok.  Ok.  Yes, I did. I like a bit of whipping.  There I’ve said it.”

Nodding his head knowingly, the doctor exclaimed, “I thought so, because in all my years as a doctor, you’ve got the worst case of van aerial disease that I’ve ever seen.”