Fifty Shades and a Friend

I finally broke down and read Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James.  Actually, I read that one and Fifty Shades Darkness and I'm in the middle of the third book of the trilogy, Fifty Shades Freed. I was going to read them on vacation  next month, but a girlfriend of mine read the trilogy and she really wanted me to read it, too, and give her my opinion.

She knows about the blog, but she has never read it, doesn't have the URL, doesn't know about the infidelity part, and she doesn't know about Kat. In short, she knows I have a blog that has some explicit sex in it, but that's about it. I would love to give her the URL and let her read to her heart's content, but you know I can't take that risk.

Anyway, I'll be writing a review of the Fifty Shades books when I finish the trilogy, which will be soon. Don't worry, if you haven't read them yet and you're planning to read them later, I'll give you a spoiler alert.
she starts talking about them on the phone.

"Can you believe how controlling he is?! I can't imagine being monitored wherever I go and whoever I"m with," she says. She's referring to one of the main characters in the book, Christian Grey.

Welcome to my world, I think. Imagine trying to have an affair under that scrutiny.  It's not easy.


I wonder if she has any idea that Hubby is as obsessed with that as Christian Grey. Well, at least Hubby has a reason not to trust me.

She goes on to talk about the BDSM lifestyle and she tells me Googled it, doing some research, and it looks like how the book describes it is pretty realistic.

I smile, glad that we're talking on the phone and she can't see the look on my face.

"Really?" I ask, pretending I don't know anything about it, and wondering if she'll ever now that my research has been a bit more...uh....hands on.

"Yes!" she exclaims. "And have you noticed that, since you've been reading it, you feel closer to your husband?  More like when you first met?"

"Sure," I answer, trying to sound convincing. "I have been sharing it with Hubby as I go along.  He knows the story line."

"But has it helped your sex life?" she whispers.  I can hear her little girl in the background.

"A bit," I respond, trying to sound coy, like I'm embarrassed to talk about it. What I really want to say is No, It hasn't had an impact on my sex life with Hubby at all, but I've been horny as hell for my lover for days and he's "not available."  Again.  Still.  Whatever.


"Well, all the women I've talked to who have read it say it's made a big difference in their marriage."

I have this image of ice queen housewives around the world taking off their frosty chastity belts and finally giving their desperate husbands some sex. Well done, E.L. James. You have accomplished what men haven't been able to do for centuries and what Masters & Johnson have been unable to do for decades.

Then she asks a question I don't expect. "If you had to pick a safe word, what would it be?" she giggles.

This comes from the book, when our horny little heroine has to pick a safe word (book 3).

"Rutabaga," I answer.  She laughs.

"Well," I say, "It has to be a word that would not come up in the course of normal conversation in that context."

"What about 'Red'?" she asks. "Like in the first book."

"Red is a bad safe word.  It could very likely come up in that situation," I say authoritatively, regretting it the second it's out of my mouth.

I remember the Dom I had when I was 20 who made me beg him to whip my inner thighs until the welts were bright red. Not pink, but red. I'm instantly wet.

I can hear her smile on the other end of the line. "Ms. Kat," she coos, "It sounds like you know what you're talking about."

I laugh. "Hardly," I say. "You know Hubby.  Can you imagine him doing that?  I just have the feeling that 'rutabaga' is as safe a word as there is."

"What about 'Popsicle'?" she asks.

Popsicle is the safe word Ana picked in book 3. All I can think about is that same Dom who tortured me by fucking me with a Popsicle.  Then when it was all melted (which didn't take long), he ate my pussy until I came three times.  The third time was so intense I was begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. He waited until I was crying, then he climbed on top and fucked me. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a cock in my life.

I was pretty sure I shouldn't tell her that I've experienced the word 'Popsicle' coming up during sex, because I've also licked plenty of nice hard cocks like Popsicles, too.  Now I'm uncomfortably wet and my pussy is twitching.  I need to end this conversation.

"Popsicle would be an excellent safe word," I say definitively.

She laughs again and tells me that I need to hurry up and finish that last book so we can get together and talk about it. Then she asks about the blog, how it's going, and so on.  I answer non-noncommittally like I always do. We exchange a few more pleasantries and  the conversation ends for now.

I'm relieved.

Maybe I should finish that third book now.