I Tried All the Sex From “Fifty Shades Darker”
Two years ago, I did all the sex from Fifty Shades of Grey in one weekend and now I’m back to do it again with Fifty Shades Darker, because apparently I hate myself and also my husband. These books really teach you things about yourself, you know? I must note that we did not attempt some of the sex scenes, but that’s mainly because none of my friends would let me have sex on their boats, and also, I don’t know anyone with a boat. Help me, I’m poor.
The Ice Cream
In the book:
He takes another spoonful and lets the ice cream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over each breast and nipple.
Oh … it’s cold. Each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool of the vanilla.
“Cold?” Christian asks softly, and bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more, his mouth hot compared to the cool of the ice.
How we did it: I love ice cream and so does my husband, so our two-day Fifty Shades Darker bang-a-thon was off to a great start! I was like, “Tie me up with one of those ties I bought you that you never wear, and then slather ice cream all over my body parts, and let’s do it!” and that’s what we did. The cold sensation from the ice cream and freezing spoon was a bit jarring on my nipples at first, but other than that, it was the *tits*. I get why people are into putting ice cubes on their nips; it’s a very lovely sensation! Then, my husband paused to eat a little ice cream (OK, he ate half the container; I was like, “Brah, I’m tied up here; let’s go!” but he insisted this is what Christian Grey did and so who was I to argue?).
After he was done with his ice cream feast, he went down on me and his mouth was cold at first, which I also dug, but after just a few seconds, it was hot again, so just normal oral sex. Which is always great. I’m not sure why there are other sex acts when oral sex exists. It’s so good. You know what’s not so good though? Cleanup. Between the sticky vanilla ice cream and various bodily excrements, it was grody. Christian Grey’s maid must really hate him. I mean, can you imagine cleaning the Red Room? I’m gagging. But other than that, it was off to a great start and we got to eat ice cream for breakfast. E. L. James knows what’s up!
In the book:
He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I let go. He nods, and I bend down and grasp the sides of the chair. He moves my panties to one side and very slowly slides a finger into me, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on all sides. I can’t help the moan that escapes from my lips.
He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time, pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes my panties back into place and kisses my backside.
How we did it: I had Ben Wa balls left over from last time and it will probably come as no small surprise that I hadn’t used them since 2015. They were in my jewelry box along with my grandmother’s pearls because I am v. respectful. I got them out, dusted them off (washed them thoroughly), bent over, and my husband pushed them into me. It was the same sensation as last time — just icy metal balls being shoved in my vaginal canal. Since we weren’t invited to a masquerade ball because we’re not characters in an E. L. James novel or the Phantom of the Opera, we went to a friend’s afternoon birthday party in a park. It was … awkward. There were a lot of kids there, and all I could think the whole time was, “I’VE GOT BALLS IN MY VAGINA.” I couldn’t help but wonder … how many other people here had Ben Wa ball up their privates? It’s prolly like 1 in 4, right?
Anyway, I thought keeping them inside of me would require near constant kegels, but it turns out they stayed put pretty easily. Periodically, my husband would look at me and just shake his head in pity, but that was the extent of our ~sexy secret~. All in all, I didn’t love it; my regular vagina feels just fine, and I didn’t need the constant worry that ball might pop out of my vag and roll into a game of lawn cricket. I wasn’t trying to lay an egg on anyone’s loafers while we’re talking about the Super Bowl, you know? So, that was fun and all, but the Ben Wa balls went straight back into the jewelry box and they won’t see the light of day (read: darkness of my vagina) until E. L. James makes me shove more metal into my cooter for Fifty Shades Freed.