Remember when we talked about this book, Fifty Shades of Grey, a few weeks ago? It’s the Twilight fan fiction that became a bestseller. You remember. It features lots of kinky sex scenes and it’s frequently referred to as “mommy porn.” It’s been a little bit of a big deal lately. Such a big deal, in fact, that the author of the book series, E.L. James, was on The Today Show yesterday. And it was awesome.
This woman comes right out and says “this is my midlife crisis.” Her midlife crisis was a smutty Twilight fan fiction. And she laughs at herself so, so much. When she’s asked if there’s anything revolutionary about her book, she starts laughing and says “absolutely not.” She seems absolutely flabbergasted at the book’s popularity. When the interviewer goes to read an excerpt, she actually goes “oh, God.” She later says “I’m not a great writer.” She’s amazing. She’s a sexually frustrated woman who wrote up a big long story about vampires and dominant/submissive sex and then turned it into a novel. It’s really ridiculous, but you have to admire her game.
I’m not going to lie, I’m probably going to read the books. See, after I initially heard about it, I did a little bit of searching around, and I found this Tumblr called Fifty Shades of Suck where someone’s just gone through the books and given little excerpts from them, and these books sound unbelievable. There are lots of spoilers, I imagine, so be careful, but I have to share some of these with you, in no particular order and without much context. You’ll still get it.
His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.
“I like this,” he murmurs, stroking then kissing my [pregnant] belly. “There’s more of you.”
I pout. “I don’t like more of me.”
“It’s great when you come.”
“And I’m looking forward to the taste of breast milk again.”
Christian lies beside me, his hand caressing my [pregnant] belly, his long fingers splayed out wide.
“How’s my daughter?”
“She’s dancing.” I laugh.
“Dancing? Oh yes! Wow. I can feel her.” He grins as Blip Two somersaults inside me.
“I think she likes sex already.”
The strands of the flogger skim across my swollen [pregnant] belly at an aching, languorous pace.
He bends to kiss me the grabs the small bowl on the table that contains the butt plug, the tube of lubricant, the blindfold, and my panties.
“Who cleans these toys?” I ask as I follow him over to the chest
He frowns at me, as if not understand the question. “Me. Mrs. Jones [the housekeeper].”
“Your lips are so soft when you cry, my beautiful, brave girl,” he whispers.
Sade’s “Your Love is King” is my ring tone for Christian- only for Christian.
My subconscious slams down her Complete Works of Charles Dickens, leaps up from her armchair, and puts her hands on her hips.
That’s what tons and tons of people are reading right now. How do you feel about that?