Fifty Shades Shadier Read Online Free PDF Page B

healthy-sized zucchini. She inserts it a few inches, pulls it out, rubs it on her love button, and reaches to the tray for another item: a yellow squash. Wow, she’s a trooper!
    Then, I realize the bed in her video is the one I’m currently lying on. This was filmed here? Hot! I look beneath the TV and see a tripod stand and camera. Thank God, the camera is off. I wonder who ... it couldn’t be, could it? Shit. It is. The woman in the video is my luscious Lovergirl wearing a wig. I should have recognized her by that amazing body.
    It’s hard to resist pleasuring myself while watching Lovergirl play with her food. I hear the front door buzz and welcome the voice of my vixen.
    “Hello, Uncle M.”
    “Hello, Lovergirl.”
    “What are you up to?”
    “Just checking out the Food Network. I never knew Rachael Ray was so talented, nor zucchini that versatile.”
    Bea enters the bedroom and notices my lump.
    “Hard still?”
    “Hard again . I’m dying to see what she does with eggplant. Meanwhile,” I slide into my love glove, “somebody here was exceptionally fiendish today, and deserves a spanking.”
    “Ooh, yes, I was very bad,” Bea admits as she removes her undies and dives across me, lying perpendicular across my waist. She lifts her skirt. “How many lashes shall I receive, Master?”
    “Five should do. But, it will have to wait until my show is over.”
    She turns her head toward me and gives that pout I can’t resist.
    “Fine,” I agree. I hit pause on the remote, turn my love glove on slow vibration, and strike her lightly on the bum.
    “Was that supposed to hurt? Are you trying to punish me or tickle me?”
    “I don’t think I could ever bring myself to hit a woman harder than that. Sorry, sweetness. Perhaps you would accept alternative punishment in the form of a deep vaginal massage.”
    “Yes, please.”
    Once again, my glove and my love—a match made in sensuality.
     

Chapter Sixteen
     
    Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand. – Rodney Dangerfield
     
    We frolic on the bed, which seems too ordinary for our sexual playbook; it’s the running back over guard play of love. I have an idea. She’s infecting me with her kinkiness.
    “Let’s have fun in the playroom,” I suggest.
    “I thought you’d never ask. I have to warn you, though; I’m an expert at table games.”
    “We’ll see about that.”
    I peel off the glove and the two of us walk naked into the Garden of Perversion with my pet snake still under the influence.
    “Wanna do it on the pool table?” she offers.
    “Nope. Bad experience.”
    “Really?”
    “Sit on my lap, and I’ll tell you a story,” I suggest while leading her to a barstool. “Once upon a time, the Big Bad Wolf placed Little Red Riding Slut’s heels in two corner pockets and took his cue stick to her. To gain extra leverage, Wolfie dug his toesies under the lip of the pool table. This caused much discomfort and blistering of his wittle toe tops. Red also wound up with brush burned cheekie-doodles.”
    “You’re crazy, Uncle M. That’s why I love you.”
    “I love you back. Since you’re such a hockey fan, I thought it might be fun to do it on a hockey rink that won’t stick to me.”
    “Hmm, that is actually a virgin air hockey table.”
    “Not for long.”
    Young men don’t eat enough pussy. Either that or they don’t do it right. For Christ’s sake, it isn’t that difficult. I’m placing part of the blame on women who either lie there allowing Ole Fumble Lips to flop around missing the point, or fake it to get it over with. Find me a man who knows how to lick a woman to orgasm and I’ll find you an ex-girlfriend of his who gave him specific directions and held him to a high standard of quality by demanding practice instead of unreciprocated oral treats. Ladies, please, whether your man asks for directions or not, give them to him. It’s in your best interest. His next