I’ve been reading Fifty Shades of Grey to learn ways to ignite Mrs Jones’ sexual desires. It’s not gone well.
In case there is anyone not familiar with this book, Fifty Shades of Grey is the first part of a trilogy by E.L. James detailing the carnal awakenings of a 21-year-old virgin, Anastatia Steele, in the deft hands of mysterious dominant and millionaire, Christian Grey. An erotic fantasy that seems to be stirring the underbellies of women throughout the planet, I thought it offered a unique opportunity to glimpse the intricate workings of the female psyche.
Mrs Jones and I have been a partnership for over 30 years, sharing joys, challenges and beds. We are each aware of what the other is thinking and feeling. We know whether the other will like, or dislike, another person. We often finish off each other’s sentences. But as I read about the shenanigans of Anastatia and Christian, I wondered whether there was a rich seam of sexual craving deep within Mrs Jones’ loins waiting to be mined.
I’m an affable sort of bloke. Perhaps this is where I’m falling short; maybe women yearn to be controlled and dominated?
A week last Thursday, around 10 pm, I was in bed pretending to read the latest edition of The Oldie magazine, while peeping at Mrs Jones who was sitting at the dressing table, removing her make-up. I shut my magazine and slapped it down on the bed-side table. “Get your sweet arse into bed now” I said, adopting my most menacing tone.
She glanced towards me, and then back at the mirror, continuing to dab her cheeks with make-up remover.
“Take off your night-gown and get into bed now; now I say!”
Mrs Jones stopped her dabbing, stood and ambled towards the bed.
I dodged the first swipe, but the second blow caught me on the back of my head. That night I learnt that (unlike Anastatia Steele) I don’t like pain.
For the next few days I sought further guidance from Fifty Shades. On page 193 I read, he pops a fragment of ice in my navel … It burns all the way down to the depths of my belly. Wow! I pondered as to whether the secret code to open a woman’s sexual vault involves exposure to extremes of temperature.
Last night, having loitered to allow Mrs Jones to retire to bed before me, I raided the freezer-box. Climbing the stairs, ice-cubes in my hand, I tingled in anticipation of that raw female sexuality I was about to unleash. I entered the bedroom, undressed (not an easy manoeuvre with blocks of ice clasped in my hand) and slipped into bed next to the luscious, naked body of my beautiful wife. She was lying on her front, denying me access to the target area of her abdomen, and seemed to be asleep. I tried a couple of gentle nudges to encourage her to turn over but to no avail. Meanwhile, the ice was melting in my hand.
I was on the verge of aborting the assignment when she flipped over onto her back, eyes closed, still sleeping. In one swift movement, I leant over and dripped several drops of icy water onto her belly. Her body tensed and her eyes shot open. I braced myself for the sexual explosion. Her hand moved instinctively towards me and lingered, palm down, inches from my midriff. She then screeched the words that will remain etched on my memory for many years.
“Have you pissed the bed?”
I am participating in the Dude Write Starting Lineup this week where you can find some excellent posts by bloggers who happen to be dudes: http://dudewrite.blogspot.com)
lmao! this is awesome and hilarious. oh my goodness, thank you. i needed a laugh this afternoon.ReplyDelete
I appreciate your generous comments, Sherilin. Take care.Delete
WONDERFUL. Sherilinnie sent me here, and I'm glad that fun posts about that stupid book are still being written.ReplyDelete
I appreciate you dropping by, Karen, and your positive comment.Delete
I will shortly visit your site.
Funny funny post. I tried to do the same thing by writing a romance novel that I was sure would make the Mrs. C. moist. It didn't work. She laughed her ass off.ReplyDelete
Just goes to show the chasm between real life and the world of fiction.Delete
I appreciate your ongoing support, Stephen. Take care.
Hilarious! Strange to think that "50 Shades Of Grey" doesn't qualify as a "Sexual Chemistry 101" handbook. Who knew?!ReplyDelete
Cheers Daniel. I'm not sure that 50 Shades contributes anything to the chemistry of sexual attraction although some do say that laughter is the best aphrodisiac!ReplyDelete
Maybe not the question you were looking for... but some people are in to that.ReplyDelete
Whatever floats your boat, Youngman. What consenting adults get up to behind closed doors is their call not mine.Delete
Thanks for the interest.
You're a brave man to try the dominant, direct approach. I'm more a fan of groveling with puppy dog eyes to attempt to convince my wife that I'm worthy. It's my "go to" move that I've had nearly 25 years to perfect.ReplyDelete
My life-long strategy is similar to your own, Ken; although it worked better 30 years ago when I looked cute!Delete
Let it be known that the garbage that women read is equivalent to the garbage that men watch. It isn't real, and in practice it isn't sexy.ReplyDelete
Ice cubes?! I'm surprised she didn't punch you.
Great story anyhow.
Yes it is surprising she didn't punch me - but then again, she was half asleep.Delete
Oh man that was hilarious! Got to give you credit for trying. Great post Bryan!ReplyDelete
I've always shown plenty of effort when trying to excite the ladies - it's just my technique that's lacking!ReplyDelete
Thanks for taking the time to comment, Michael.
Fantastic! I am currently read the crap know as 50 Shades of Grey but I haven't had the balls yet to try anything out on my wife.ReplyDelete
Thanks for dropping by, WWT.ReplyDelete
I'm not sure it requires balls to try out some of the 50-shades suggestions; I think it requires stupidity!
Absolutely hysterical! I'm sure many a man has tried similar tactics, probably without the benefit of the research novel you read...with similar success.ReplyDelete
I'm so pleased it touched your funny bone, Wily Guy. I suspect your sense of humor is similar to mine.ReplyDelete
A plus for effort.ReplyDelete
Where women are concerned, Annmarie, I've never been lacking in effort; just results!ReplyDelete
Oh no not a bed wetter. I laughed out loud. Maybe you just chose the wrong things to try.ReplyDelete
Thanks for your comment on my post Santa Confusion.
Maybe you're right Charlotte; I'm only half-way through the book so maybe I'll learn further strategies that will achieve success?Delete
Best wishes for Christmas and the New Year.
Your comment on Youngman Brown's blog post about condoms had me lol'ing in the truest sense of the phrase! It led me to your blog and this post. Hilarious! Do not try the Ben Wa balls on your wife. Something tells me she may use them as a weapon. And you could lose an eye!ReplyDelete
Sounds like we have got the same sense of humor. I'll drop in on your blog soon.ReplyDelete
The Ben Wa balls? I don't think I've reached that page yet.
Oh just wait! It was a true "wtf?" moment for me! I do not write humour very well! And my blog just gathers dust! But thanks. I came to realize that.reading blogs is more my talent than writing them!ReplyDelete