Fifty Shades of Fucked Up...

Recently, quite a few of my male friends on Faceboook, had been posting how awesome Fifty Shades of Grey was because it meant they were getting laid a hundred times more than usual by their respective wives and girlfriends. Like so many chicks around the world, I have caved in and started reading the Fifty Shades trilogy.  I saw all three books on sale for ten bucks a piece so I threw them in my basket and headed to the check-out.

It took me a couple of days to to summon the strength to crack the cover on Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm not much of a reader. I have the attention span of a goldfish and my  short term memory is shot. I have a tendancy to read a few pages, put books down, forget about them and have to start all over again a few days later. I picked up Fifty Shades of Grey and read the first three chapters and still could not see what all the fuss was about. I put the book down and moved onto my Delicious magazine to feed my food porn addiction.

The next day at work I began talking to the girl at the desk next to me about the book. She told me not to give up on it and that the juicy stuff starts in chapter 8. That night after work, I again picked up the book and began reading. The chapters went by... Murmur this, mutter that. Boring! Man, this EL James lady really needs a thesaurus!

As soon as I got to to chapter seven where Ana is introduced to The Playroom, the book had my attention. I have always wanted to set up a play room in my house. A room set aside purely for sex. Filthy, dirty, hard sex.

Chapter after chapter went by and before I knew it I had powered through the 514 pages. I can't remember the last time I finished a whole book from cover to cover. I can't say that it is a particularly well written book. In parts I actually started editing as I took each page in. But there was just something about the way the characters work together and how their story unfolds that got me hooked. A modern take on Cinderella if you will.

It did however, make me realise that I'm not quite done with kinky fuckery. I thought I had it out of my system, but clearly I have not! Doesn't every girl like having her ass spanked and he hair pulled? No!? Must just be me then! And just last week I ordered a book from the work book box titled "Knots: Step by step" to further my lust for rope.

Having a part-time-special-friend, that lives a 100 km round trip away from me, got me thinking that I need to find my own Melbourne version of Christian Grey. He doesn't need to  have a ripped bod, his own private jet or earn $100,000 and hour. The only thing he needs is a desire to fuck. A desire to fuck me hard and often. That's not too much to ask for is it?