Fifty Shades Of Black

My wife just finished reading the book Fifty Shades Of Grey and I have just completed…nevermind.  None o’ yer bizness what I just completed.  But anyways she did read all the books that all the women are reading or have read.  Even my friends who are in none-ogamous relationships are getting their reads on.  I am not sure what they are going to do with the knowledge that great, crazy, fantastic, multiple-orgasm-inducing sex is out there to be had.  Sex toys sale just went through the roof, people!

From the running commentary that I was getting from my wife as she read, I realized that I am no Mr. Grey and won’t be anytime soon.  So instead, she’ll be getting Fifty Shades Of Black.  (I’m black, you got it?).   I admit, I did try to read a couple sentences.  Why not? Curiosity is my middle name.  It was a smorgasbord of sex! In all colors, not just grey.  Poorly written but reeking of sex, and sex sells.    And porn blogs get the hits.

This books were such a phenomenon that people were actually lending it to their moms to read after they were done.  I can’t imagine lending my mom anything that had the remotest link to sex.  Call me old fashioned but I don’t roll like that.  “Oh hey Mommy, I just finished reading this book that just about every other woman has read.  It has tons of crazy, wild sex.  This guy is insatiable, mommy. He gets this chick to be like his sex slave and she does whatever he wants.  Here, borrow it and we will discuss it when you are done with it.  Love you, mommy.‘  That sounded wrong on all fronts.  Heck, I shouldn’t have even got it for my wife.  But I did and must now face the consequences.

I have to run now, the wife is calling me from upstairs, scantily clad and dangling a pair of handcuffs…I’m so tired but must do what a man must do.  I’ll be right up, honey.  I’m just on the phone with your mom. We are discussing that book you just read.’

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