Fifty Shades Effed – Chapter Six


After dinner, we dunk warm Toll House cookies in milk and catch up on Nurse Jackie episodes. Zoey rules! Bea’s appetite–both for food and for sex–is growing, and I’m keeping up, so far.

“One more cookie, Lovergirl. I bet my boy is smiling,” I tease as I pat her belly.
“Uncle M, you constantly impress me. You bake?”
“I slaved all night making sure the batter was just right.”
“Oh, and please ignore the Nestle bag in the garbage.”
“I need to take it easy, with all those heavy medals soon to be hanging around my neck. My poor back.”
“Speaking of, I believe it’s time for another event.”
“I’ll do some deep knee bends and change into my track suit.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What’s the event?”
“The Grip Test. I noticed two plugs in the bag of fun.”
“But …”
“Let me chug this wine first.” *Gulp* “OK, what are the rules?” I ask as Bea removes the intimidating butt plugs and tube of mint lube from the Hustler bag.
“We each insert one of these and then get it on, missionary-style. Whoever knocks the plug out of the other person’s butt, without using hands, wins.”
“So embarrassing.”
“You can forfeit if you like.”
“You may take my pride, but you’ll never take my butt plug!”

Lovergirl hands me the plugs and lube, and goes into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”
“We need this, too,” she replies while showing me the pepper shaker.
“You’ll see, Uncle M.”

We disrobe, pull down the comforter, and place two towels on the bed. Shit. How intimidating!

“My virgin butt is going to need lots of foreplay, kind words, and a thick layer of lube.”
“You can still back out.”
“No way. I’m tight, y’all.”

Lovergirl lathers the lube onto the plugs and hands me one.

“I don’t think I’ve had anything up there since a thermometer in the sixties.”
“How do we do this? I can’t put it in myself,” I protest while noticing hers is already in place.
“Be gentle,” I mewl.

She manages to get it in and then mounts me. I concentrate on squeezing my cheeks without pushing as she slams away on top of me.

“Do you like it, Uncle M?”
“It’s … different. Stop trying to distract me,” I insist.

I bite my bottom lip as she slams harder and harder. All this concentration is delaying my orgasm, so there’s one benefit. She orgasms twice, but her plug is cemented; mine is slipping.

Bea covers my eyes and reaches toward the bedside table. What’s she up to? I hear shaking and, suddenly, I smell pepper.

“Aaaaaah CHOO!” I sneeze, which sends my butt plug flying. Rats! 
“Bless you.”

Canada has her first gold.

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Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.