50 Shades of Shit part 1

Once again Thursday rolls around and because of a fun mix of being sickly/trying to get my shit together to make life easier when shit starts hitting the fan*, I do not have a post ready. However, I hate leaving you hanging, and because of just mentioned shit, I know there is a danger that I will miss a few updates in the near future**, so instead you will get my frantically cobbled together version of what I think 50 Shades of Grey would look like if it was more to the point. So, basically fan fiction. I want you all to know that I feel I am sinking to a new level of depravity doing this, and I do it all for you. 

I gaped at his perfect profile. It was like someone had looked at one of those old school cameos and carved a face based on that, out of stone- sexy stone. It made my heart flutter and my pee-parts feel all tingly like. He looked at me with his super-sexy smouldering eyes and I found myself sucked in like a moth to the flame- a sexy flame. Like, super sexy. So sexy and hot that if you touched it you would burn yourself, but you probably shouldn't because it's another person's eyeball and no one likes to be poked in the eyeball. Well, maybe he does, I mean, he's so dark and tragic and he has such a fucked up past, like, super fucked up. His Mom killed herself when he was a toddler in front of him and he was left to hang out in squalor for like days and he's super traumatized now! It's super sad! So all that led him to being into kinky fucked up shit- like getting poked in the eyeball, maybe.

"Do you like being poked in the eyeball?"

Christian Grey frowned his perfect lips at me. It was like they were chiseled out of clay, and then baked because they were so firm but looked kind of soft, too. I was too distracted by his clay-lips to hear what he was saying, mesmerized by the way they moved, like nimble mountain goats. "Ana?" he asked, his concerningly well groomed eyebrows furrowing. What was it my Mother always used to say? Never trust a man with nicer eyebrows than you? Wait, no, that was finger nails! Whew! Safe! I can still trust my 50!

"Sorry," I said feeling embarrassed at how much he affected me. "I was distracted."

He smiled, his secret private smile that no one else ever got to see, "That will happen. It is a well known side effect of the black magic I use to keep you subdued."

I blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said I don't like being poked in the eye. I don't like being touched at all. The only person who ever touched my eye was Elena, because she was my Dom."

I felt angry fast. My lady bits went from being moist and soggy like the sponge of a day old tiramisu, to dry and crackly like a desert. "If you liked your Mrs. Robinson so much why don't you just go and have crazy kinky sex with her?" I snapped.

"Ana how many times do we have to go over this? It is over between her and I. I only have stalking tendencies for you. Also I bought the company your Mother works for." he said, and I was once again mesmerized by his clay mountain goat lips.

"Then why do you still spend so much time with her?"

"Because the plot demands I can only have one friend, and she called first dibs."

I took a deep breath and forgot to let it out again. He was such a stupid-head. Christian sighed, and peeled his shirt off. I remembered to exhale. "I will not be distracted by sex."

"What if I let you slickle my peeny?" he asked arousingly, sexily undoing his belt. Standing in his boxers and socks, I could see his turgid wang throbbing and ready to be inside my lady-bits.

I eyed his beef whistle hungrily. "Will you let me touch you?"

"Not until next book." he said slowly advancing on me. He grabbed me by the hair and forced our faces together. I forgot how I was talking about. His custard launcher was pressed against my leg, and my inner goddess did a triple-half-caff off the diving board before landing in a double axle***. I did this to him! I made his throbbing python of love come to life!

He pressed his one-eyed-wonder weasel up against me and whispered the magic word, "CUM FOR ME ANA!" and I exploded all over the place. "OH! FUCK YES! SUCH A SEXY EXPLOSION!" he screamed, following suit. His cleaning lady was going to be super confused when she had to clean us off of the walls and ceiling and out of the carpet.


Alright, so I had way more fun writing that then I thought I would. I also accomplished a life goal of using the phrase "turgid wang" sorry for no real update this week, but assuming things don't get too horrific, I should have a regular update by next Thursday. Failing that, expect 50 Shades of Shit part 2 (or a guest post). Till Tuesday!


*Man, I'm only now realizing how great it is to know ahead of time when shit will be flying. I have till Monday and then things get thrown into the terrifying/stressful unknown of post-surgery of someone I am in a border-line care giver position to? Cool, better make sure the apartment is clean and my laundry is done because I don't know when the next time I'll have a chance to do that is! I'm not even being sarcastic, give me planned chaos with some fretting leading up to it than happily going along and getting bowled over when shit start flying any day.
**On a very related note: I am looking for guest posts. Things on feminism or 50 Shades are ideal, but I'm open to suggestions. I will write a guest-post in exchange if it is wanted on the subject of your choosing when things have quieted down.
***Stole this line from Marz's comment. I can not take credit.