Free Fifty Shades Effed by Phil Torcivia Page B

enlist your help in a stunt I’m planning. Bea is having a girls’ night with her friends on Thursday. I want to surprise them with something. Should I hire a male stripper?”
    “Wait. Wasn’t she on stage for your party?” Eric asks.
    “Indeed she was.”
    “Then you must return the favor,” Daniel adds.
    Ha! No fucking way.
    “Yes, dress up in a police uniform and jump out of a cake,” Eric teases.
    “Right.”
    “I’m serious. It would be hysterical.”
    “It would be traumatizing. I’m fifty. I eat cake.”
    “Oh my god, I still have that uniform from the Pride Parade. It comes with handcuffs, too,” Daniel offers.
    “Perfect,” Eric cheers, “and you two are similar size. You must, Mormon. Come on. We’ll both be there to provide oral, I mean moral support.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Please,” they chime, in stereo.
    “Fine. Fuck it. I’ll chug half a bottle of tequila and do it.”
    “I’ll arrange for the cake and bring Daniel’s costume to work with me tomorrow,” Eric insists.
    “Can’t believe I’m going to do this. Will Grandma be there?”
    “No, Thursday is bingo night at The Rock Church. She’d never miss that.”
    “Phew. Now I need a favor from you, Eric.”
    “Anything.”
    “Got any more of those pain-thrillers Bea borrowed from you?”
    “Indeed I do,” Eric agrees.
    “Might I have a handful for the honeymoon? I’m probably going to need all the help I can get.”
    “Of course.”
    The three of us enjoy the sights, then go our separate ways. I brainstorm ideas to make my emergence from pastry more amusing. This calls for restraints, a whip, and the biggest, blackest strap-on I can find. Hustler Store, here I come.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Love is friendship set on fire. – Jeremy Taylor
     
    I’m greeted at the door of the Hustler Store by a lovely young lady wearing an apron. She asks if I need help. Lots. Do I dare ask about the apron? No.
    It’s a vast store, with stripper wear on the first floor and stairs leading up to the loft of kinkery.
    “My name is Nelly. Do you have anything special in mind?”
    “I don’t even know where to begin, Nelly.”
    “Well,” she asks, “is it for a man or a woman?”
    “For this man’s woman.”
    “Excellent. What does she enjoy?”
    “Overtime goals and zucchini.”
    “Um ...”
    “Right. You can see my predicament.”
    She leads me along a wall of dildos and vibrators. I’m not one to blush, but this place has me crimson.
    “What does this do?” I ask while attempting to read the price without touching the U-shaped device.
    “Ah, this one is very popular. You have a good eye, sir.” She sounds like she’s selling me a BMW. “This vibrator stimulates the woman, both inside and out.”
    I stand perplexed.
    “Her clitoris and her G-spot.”
    “Of course. I’d like one in purple. Oh, and someone stole my Fukuoku Glove, so I’ll need one of those too—in black, please. Anything else you can recommend?”
    “Lotions?”
    “Do you have bacon-flavored?”
    “...”
    “Kidding. Something minty will do.”
    “Excellent. Anything else? Perhaps more advanced devices for the adventuresome?”
    “Bring it.”
    She leads me over to the corner with triangular dildo-ish toys and strings with different sized beads and a ring that reminds me of the merry-go-round ride of my childhood.
    “Do you know what these are?”
    “Dog toys?”
    “No, silly, these are for anal play.” Ouch. “These are butt plugs and these are anal beads. They’ll both go well with your minty lube. Have you used either before?”
    “Of course, I have. I’m a skilled plugologist.”
    “Great. Then, you’ll require his and hers.”
    “Whoa, Nelly—only hers.”
    “Ever tried it?”
    “No.”
    “How about a pinky?” she gestures.
    “What?”
    “You know, during a blowjob. It heightens the sensation.”
    “Exit only.”
    “Don’t be like that. It doesn’t mean you’re gay. The anus is quite sensitive and