Fifty Shades Effed – Chapter Eight

Fifty Shades Effed - Chapter Eight

Normally, I’d be all heels and elbows as I run from the embarrassing situation. However, the tequila has persuaded me to hoard my shits. Fuck it. I’ll dance for the old woman.

Grandma does a double-take, then she recognizes me. The other ladies in the bingo hall begin cheering. I glare at Eric, hop out of the box, and begin gyrating in front of Grandma.

“How did you know it was my birthday, Blobber?” Grandma asks.
“I’m a powerful man with many connections. You shall henceforth address me as Officer Blobber, or I’ll be forced to restrain the suspect.”
“Eat me,” Grandma defies as she gives me the finger and smirks.
“Fine, you asked for it.”

I remove the handcuffs from my belt and grab her wrist. She’s enjoying this. Ugh. Maybe it’s genetic.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say won’t matter, as I’m going to grind my man banana into the birthday girl anyway,” I tease. Grandma giggles as the others in attendance roar. Eric is encouraging me as I notice his partner open the door to the hall. The parade of bachelorette party people stream in, led by my Lovergirl.

Once Grandma is cuffed, I hop in front of her, flip around, squat my hairy butt down onto her lap, and grind.

“Oh, my,” Grandma responds. “I hope you registered at Petco so I can buy you shears for your wedding gift.”
“Silence, woman, or I shall gag you!”
“You wouldn’t dare. And, what the hell is that thing in your pants? You must be dreaming.”

I stand in front or her, then turn and rip my shirt open, sending the buttons flying. I forgot I had my nipples clamped. Good thing I’m numb because I may have just dislocated a gland or two. The women cheer as I do my best impression of a pelvic thrust. By this point, Grandma is in tears laughing. Lovergirl inserts herself between us and begins undoing my belt.

“Oh, Jesus. I wouldn’t do that.”
“We have to set the beast free, Uncle M,” she insists.

She unbuttons, unzips, and yanks down my pants. Out flops the Cockasaurus Rex, which dangles and bops her on the noggin. The women (and gay men) all gasp at the sight of my girthy appendage. I chase the girls in Bea’s party around like a kid with a garden hose. Luckily the song runs out before I get too crazy. I’m dizzy and drunk from all the tequila. Still, I’m confident I’ve won Grandma over in the process.

“Put that thing away and uncuff me, you maniac,” Grandma insists.
“Fuck, I don’t have any keys. Sorry, you’re stuck. Can you hold a bingo blotter in your mouth?”
“I have the keys, Mormon,” Eric offers.

I take a bow and dress myself. I attempt to give Grandma a hug.

“Happy birthday, my dear.”
“Thank you and, no, we don’t hug. You may fist-tap me.”

I oblige. As I turn to leave Grandma smacks my ass and hugs Bea.

“Was this your doing?” Grandma asks Bea.
“No, it was a surprise to me as well. Eric is responsible.”
“Well, let’s hope I win a few million dollars tonight. You go have fun at your party.”
“I love you, Grandma.”
“Love you too. Keep an eye on this one. He’s seems to be a toy short of a Happy Meal.”
“Ha! Will do.”

Bea leads me out to the limo.

“You’re coming with us.”
“Oh, hell no. Not like this,” I refuse.
“I need a fucking nap.”
“Just come with us to the bar and you can wait in the limo. I’ll sneak out and we’ll have a little fun.”
“Now that sounds tempting.”
“I have an idea for the next Olympic event.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”

We pile into the limo. Once downtown, they go into the club as I lie across the seats, hoping to sleep off the tequila buzz. Bea is last to leave. She bends down and kisses me.

“I’ll be back in one hour, Uncle M. Make sure that strap-on is ready.”

Oh, my.

About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.

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