Tuesday, October 23, 2012
I don't know how many of our multitude of Diablog readers have read the apparently appalling Fifty Shades Of Grey. I have to admit to not having reading the book, or for that matter either of the two others that make up the trilogy.
If like me, you needed background information on the books, and the author, I would refer you to the information shown on wikipedia.
Naturally those of us of a Jewish persuasion had to get into the act, and I am grateful to the anonymous e mailer who send me the following somewhat Orthodox religious version.
If you need translation on any of the terms referred to below please direct them to anyone but me.
As the Friday evening darkened, I could see him imagining the ancient but mysterious ritual of the explosion of Sabbath lust.
He lovingly licked the spoon clean of chicken soup as I distracted him by erotically fondling a large pickled cucumber located on the dinner table. Sacramental wine spilt from his lips as I eased a pair of chicken thighs onto his plate.
He spread the thighs before purposefully devouring them and then sucked a large piece of chicken breast into his mouth with one swoop of his darting tongue. The pace of his words over the Grace after Meals quickened as I massaged a loose piece of Grodzinski’s challah into a tight round ball cheekily pretending to place it in my mouth.
He paced up and down the room like an excited bull as I put our 19 children to bed. After changing Chaim and Moishes nappies, I slipped into a cotton white gown.
In the light of the Sabbath candles, he could see the roundness of my hips as he suddenly removed his tzitzit. I grabbed this garment, pushed him roughly onto the bed and firmly tied one end of the plain white cloth around his arm and then tightly to the bedpost.
He seemed surprised but I could see his excitement becoming visible. I gently kissed the fingers on his loose right hand and removed his tefillin straps from the bedside drawer.
As I wrapped the leather roughly around his hands and tied them to a post he could barely contain himself.
I whispered you can't leave your hat on and removed his fur hat, rolling it gently down his bare chest and placing it strategically over his groin.
He pretended to struggle but his eyes filled with expectation. With one swift move, I straddled his hips and leaned over to his ear, my loose breast dangling invitingly near his mouth.
In a hushed voice, I said Menachem I have a bit of a headache but bizrat hashem [with the help of God] we can try again next week.