Figging 1

If someone were to ask me, "Hey Sonia, is there anything you and Phil have done in bed that you never ever thought you'd do?" I'd know the answer right away: Figging. And it's not because I'd gone through life thinking the practise was icky or weird or perverted. It's only because, up until three weeks ago, I'd never even heard of it.

Figging is, I'm pretty sure, one of those really random sexual practices that hardly anyone's heard of. Or maybe everybody's heard of it and I was just extremely vanilla until I read about it in a sex blog a couple weeks back. I don't know.

If the term were in the dictionary (and it's not—I checked), the definition would go something like this:

Figging (verb) originated in the BDSM world and describes a sex act in which one partner inserts a piece of peeled, raw ginger into another partner's anus.

That's right, girls! Either you get a tuber up the arse, or you stick it to your man. Does everybody keep ginger next to the vibrator in the night table? I'm worried that I sound incredibly naïve here, but I really don't think this activity has made it across the bedrooms of the country just yet. And that's exactly why I just had to try it.

If Phil were to come home and say, "Hey baby, how's about we shove some ginger root up your butt tonight?" I would have been like, "What the hell have you been reading?" I'm sure he was thinking the same thing when I introduced the idea. But Phil is just as open-minded as I am, so I knew I could count on him to go with it.

We decided I would take the root up the backside. It was my idea, after all, and I was super-curious about how it would feel. I'd read if you peel the ginger and trim it to the right size, then put it in the freezer for a while, the effect is a slow-released cold-hot burning sensation. Well, that sounded good to me, so I stuck that baby in the deep freeze one morning before going to work and I thought about it all day.

When I got home that evening, Phil was ready and waiting. Because I'd mentioned figging started in the BDSM world, he figured it would be a propos to tie me to the bedposts. I couldn't say no to that!

He warmed me up before cooling me off. Getting in between my thighs, Phil licked my pussy like crazy. When he caught me gazing down at him and moaning like mad, he scolded me for having too much fun. I laughed until he got a silk scarf from my drawer and tied it around my eyes.

Everything went dark and all I could do was lie back with my wrists secured to the bed and listen to him lap and slurp as he ate my pussy. When I started hollering out loud and screaming his name, I felt him ease the cold ginger up inside my ass. Once it was in there freezing my hole, he stopped licking me so I could savour the sensation.

My ass must have been hot-hot-hot, because the ginger melted fast. As the cold fell out of it, the tingling began. My asshole was taken over by a delicious smouldering sensation. When I started to squirm, Phil asked if it hurt. I told him, "No, it doesn't. It burns, but it doesn't hurt."

As the ginger's juices attacked the sensitive tissue of my asshole, Phil held the root in place and dove at my pussy again. He sucked hard on my clit as he wiggled the ginger around. It unfroze quickly, and I could feel it weeping juices down my crack, but I still couldn't see a thing because of the silk scarf over my eyes. Once Phil had my clit in his mouth, he wouldn't let up until I was begging for mercy. This time was no exception.

The ginger burned in my ass as he went at my bud. The sensation was so intense, I had to grit my teeth together. Finally, I couldn't keep quiet anymore. I let out a shriek. I hollered Phil's name and told he had to stop or I'd lose my mind—and probably kick him clear off the bed.

He pulled the ginger from my ass and a shiver went through me. I could still feel that warm, smouldering feeling inside me even after it was gone. Even after letting up on my pussy and my bum, Phil didn't take off the blindfold or untie my wrists. He kept me strung up while he kissed my nipples, my neck and my lips, and then we lay together for what felt like an hour of perfect bliss.

When we finally got out of bed, I elected to make dinner. I asked Phil what he felt like and, of course, the joker laughed, "Well, we've got all this leftover ginger..."