Fifty Shades of Choad: 9er and Baraka do chick lit crit

I hear he gets rave reviews for his uncanny ability to use nothing but his hands to tell the correct size they need.

 

I started to read the first one, a bit sexy trashy, I've heard it called Mommy porn, but anyway, having skimmed through the first one, my SO had finished number 2, so I started to skim that one, now I am reading to see what happens in the end.....waiting on her finishing number 3
I guess I'm a book whore, I'll read anything that doesn't have a very involved plot...(or a lot of big words....ha)
Ah the beauty of being retarded retired.....no place to be, and plenty of time to get there...(plus doctors appointments)

 

Oh you have much to learn from a Master like me Little Gob. I Hope to one day show you the way of the the deflowered Squirrel, Monkey Style of course. But patience must be observed in order to reach such enlightenment. With time you will become a Guru grandmaster of everything de-flowered, including a de-flowered Plan9 butthole. It is not as strange as it sounds, but a deflowered Plan9 butthole is where success in all things are found.

Go forth, and plunder plentifully my Gob Son.

 

I feel like that needs to be embroidered on a pillow!

 

I guess we now officially have everything, including someone entirely missing the point of the thread.

No worries, DAKA. It happens to us all.

 

If I could be bothered I would write a "50 Shades" fanfic with this guy as the "Christian Grey" character:

Charles Nicholl reviews ‘The Fox and the Flies’ by Charles van Onselen · LRB 7 February 2008

Joseph Silver was an:

‘arsonist, bank robber, barber, bigamist, brothel-owner, burglar, confidence trickster, detective’s agent, gangster, horse-trader, hotelier, informer, jewel thief, merchant, pickpocket, pimp, policeman, rapist, restaurateur, safe-cracker, smuggler, sodomist, special agent, spy, storekeeper, trader, thief, widower, wigmaker and white slave trafficker’.
(he also was probably a murderer, and probably not Jack the Ripper... and the above is genuinely the most positive statement the guy who wrote the book had to say about him)

_

It would be a lot more realistic if the romantic lead was a pathological liar, a violent and misogynistic pimp and fencer of stolen goods, frequently prone to fits of psychopathic rage and with at very least an attempted murder charge in his past.

 

there is far too much chatter in this thread and far too little Plan9 interpretation

 

I agree, I'm sure Plan9 is deep in thought on what the next chapter will bring.
Having to satisfy our thirst for dirty twisted sex with a man that really doesn't exist or does he?

 

But its been TEN days!!!

 

Plan9 deep in thought? Sounds like a unicorn farting a rainbow to me.

 

This site is hilarious and very fitting for this thread.....
Fifty Shades Generator
"By now, my gashtray was oozing like there was a midget inside me with a super soaker. My quivering mound of love pudding was trembling like a rat on acid. Hours of pounding like this would leave any girl's open-faced ham sandwich looking like that bathroom door in The Shining, and I was no different! Within no time, I could feel the shitty love piss dribbling from my rusty sherif's badge and all over my furburger. It was bliss having his womb raider stuffed inside me again; stuffing my clunge pool with a gerbil just didn't get my herring hole flowing like it used to.”

 

It's been Fifteen days now, I don't want to have to breakdown and buy the damn book!
You know what will happen if I do that, it's going to be Plan9, like the little devil on my shoulder, remixing the words. in the back of my mind the whole time I'm reading it.

 

The book or this review?

 

...the hell is going on in this thread?

I head off for a couple of days of redneck R&R... go to a tractor pull, hit up the horse races, somehow end up on crutches... come back and you guys are totally pooping on my couch here. Thanks a lot. There is that other, book-specific 50 Shades of Grey thread, ya know. Fuckin' heathens.

Couple of things I've noticed about TFP:

1. The more people talk about your anus ("butthole"), the more important you are to the site. So I guess I got that going for me. I mean, I'm not even a girl and these guys are all excited about said hole, putting things in it, etc. Is this how women feel? Being totally objectified is kinda... sexy. *flex*
2. The only reason I'm continuing with the project is because some of the ladies enjoy it. And they're polite about it. Plus, Freetofly just made me into a cartoon shoulder devil and that's really endearing. I've always wanted to be an animated moral compass. Especially if I get a cool costume.
3. It is pretty lonely to do a trash lit joke thread when you're the only dude that's actually reading the silly smut book. It's ~$12, people... you too can enjoy (and join in) the stupidity. I think it'd be awesome if someone with a 100+ IQ would chime in with their interpretation and thoughts.

Onward...

Chapter 9: Just Put It In Your Mouth

We left our monkey-faced heroine and her piano-playing P90X poster child in bed. It’s the morning after he deflowered her and she finds herself bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in his bed… with him next to her. After gushing like a ‘60s Beatles fan on mute, the real reason for her alertness is revealed: she’s gotta pee. I’d imagine so… after getting rammed in the crotch like the papier-mâché wall of a small town jail cell or a plywood bank vault mock-up on particularly cheesy episode of The A-Team, her crotch would probably appreciate that she expel whatever she can before the UTI sets in and forces us to read about how they’re drinking a lot of cranberry juice and each downing their own Z-pack in Chapter 11.

I’ve shared a UTI with a girl before. I gotta say… it burned, but I felt pretty accomplished.​

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah… after she dons one of his dress shirts and wanders through the four square blocks of closet space loaded with a million dollars in suits he’s likely worn once, she finds the warehouse-sized bathroom where she finally gets to wizzywinkle out of her fluffy seabiscuit. She wanders to the study to find her purse, throws her hair into “girly pigtails” (to—get this—deter her new lover from morning sex) and texts her girlfriend, Kate “I’d Hit It” Kavanagh, that she’s a-okay (no details, of course). Also: I like how Ana refers to Christian as “Bluebeard.” I don’t know if there is another pop culture connotation, but as far as I’m aware… Bluebeard was a dirty pirate. I fail to see the comparison and/or joke. That and “pirate” doesn’t really jive with the James Bond villain / American Psycho playboy / moody Batman theme. Somebody help me out here.

Anyway, she’s bopping around to some estrogen-stirring tune on her iPod in his NASA-spec kitchen, determined to make breakfast for herself and her new fuck (correction: fuck… hard) buddy. What’s on the menu? Omelette. Pancakes and bacon. Newflash: Chiseled playboy billionaires that listen to Phil Collins and Huey Lewis don’t eat like that, lady. This guy does a thousand crunches before his 11-step shower and survives on buckets of egg whites, melon balls, almond slivers, grilled salmon cut into 1” cubes and leafy greens and avocado spun into a yuppie-approved (read: arkana) Super Food ™ shake. Ana is shaking her narrow, Macauly Culkin-like ass along to the music when she turns around and nearly has a heart attack: The Abercrombie & Fitch model she lusts after is staring at her across from the breakfast bar. I really hope the 50 Shades movie includes that Alfred Hitchcock camera drop away zoom thing.

Breakfast conversation (read: innuendo) consists of:

After being forced to lick her plate clean like an abused toddler, Ana takes a call from Kate. Kate wants all the deetz on the fuckfest but Ana honors the no-tell-motel NDA and leaves her girlfriend hangin’.

Their flirting comes to a head (rimshot) as it is decided that they’ll head off to his orgy tub where she can engage in a little tickle-the-tonsils for the very first time. That’s right; one end is sore, switch to the other.

Say what? You mean you’ve never done a girl missionary to completion? Another Pinocchio moment. Every dude has done it… it’s like eating crackers or cereal right out of the box because you’re hungry and too lazy to get all fancy with a bowl or a plate. That and c’mon, he can’t always have a pair of Peerless handcuffs and an Ariat riding crop on hand for hookups on business trips. Or maybe he’s one of those pervy emotional chess player dudes that try to talk a girl into anal first. Whatever the joke here is, I’m calling bullshit. You know who hasn’t had (or resorted to) "vanilla" sex? A virgin. Everybody else does it at some point. Clamping her wrists together above her head and banging her like a M2 machine gun? Still counts. Missionary is missionary and that tried 'n true is like cheap booze: it gets the job done when you wanna kick back and get to the part where you feel good.

So, yeah, Ana and Grey strip down and start sizing each other up in a bubble bath. A bubble bath. Yeah, that shit only works if you’re rich. When I was 18, I did the whole bubble bath and candles thing with my curvy Asian girlfriend and we quickly determined that there is a good reason that the Western bed is the king of all fuck surfaces. If I wasn’t slipping and nearly cracking my head on the spa tub lip or the wall, she was getting her spine smashed against the uncomfortable porcelain basin. Soap in her mouth, soap in her vag. After splashing like ten gallons of water on the tile floor from missionary, doggy style and some sideways shit that involved using a towel rack as a pull-up bar, we just threw up the bullshit flag and finished the match on the bath mat. Take it from me, folks: quickly mopping up an entire flooded bathroom floor before the parents get home isn’t the most romantic post-coital bonding activity. Basically: Shower/tub sex really sucks. More power to you if you can get that shit to work out.

Ana also mentions she’s glad that Kate reminded her to shave her underarms. What gives? I’ve been with a fair number of women and I’ve yet to come across one that had more than 24 hours worth of growth under her arms. This is 2012, right? Hah, I can’t wait until we get down to the other end… she have a bush like Don King’s dome? I'm cool with it either way, honestly. I wouldn't mind doing a chick with armpit fleece. It'd be different.

Enough bullshit... it's sexy time. First, some mood music:



Fellatio is up first. “I want you to become well acquainted, on first name terms if you will, with my favorite and most cherish part of my body. I’m very attached to this.” Hilarious. Grey loves his dick. I don’t think I’d ever refer to my genitals as my favorite body part… I’m too practical. I like my functioning eyeballs and my arms-with-hands far more than my cock ‘n balls. I’m biased, though. Smoothspot. Anyway, Ana delivers a pretty good romance novel blowjob. Lots of stereotypical tongue “swirling” (am I the only guy that doesn’t give a shit about that?) but she delivers the goods by basically inhaling his huge That Which is Only Referred to by Pronouns. You go, girl. She decides to “fuck him with [her] mouth.” His dick is described as “steel encased in velvet” and “surprisingly tasty… salty and smooth.” She’s got her “very own Christian Grey popsicle.” Also noted: Her inner goddess is doing Tae Bo ‘n shit. I don't know what an inner goddess is exactly, but I imagine it as a giant cartoon gummy bear.

Doesn’t take very long old boy to summon up the pump action pudding pack. “Ana, I’m going to come in your mouth!” he declares. Excited, she bares a little teeth (mmm, daddy likey) and sends him over the edge. He unloads a couple of pulses of his warm ‘n salty egg whites into her esophagus, marveling that she's too clueless to spit out his homemade Elmer's glue as it pommels her uvula. Either Ana has heard about the tongue-on-the-roof-of-the-mouth trick or she’s trained as a sword swallower. I’d like to think she’s read a couple of issues of Cosmo in her day and that she can’t be totally clueless about what to do with a tool in her maw. I tell ya, when I was a wee lad of just 16 and foolishly attempting to understand the mysterious creature that was the opposite sex, I was reading about stuff in women's magazines that made Playboy seem pretty darn tame.

Grey wants to know if she’s ever given head before and is relieved to know that he’s the first. Odd coming from a guy that seemed to be wildly inconvenienced by her virginity in only the last chapter, huh? I'm not a literary genius, but I'd like it if the characters... dunno... stay in character.

Cunnilingus follows, “only because it’s only fair.” He ties her up, hands in front, with—wait for it—a gray tie. I’m thinking he used a square knot with inline safeties, but that’s only because I’ve been brainwashed. After demanding she act like a RealDoll and not touch him, he licks and nibbles all over her body before heading downtown below her pubic patch (another rarity; I'm totally down with a landing strip, though) to part her labia with his nose after blowing on it like a total douchebag. He speed bags her clitoris while curling a vampire finger inside to massage her g-spot. She quivers like a middle-aged gay guy talking about shoes. She’s primed and ready to explode but he wants to plunge. Not satisfied with blowjob, he rolls on another Trojan extra-medium and eases into her. This fuck is basically two sentences. He seems to be holding off an orgasm, waiting for her to go first. What a gentleman. He urges her to sign the contract so he can escalate the kink. “We can do so much, be so much… if only you sign the paper that will allow me to play you like a N64.” The guy has this weird necrophiliac serial killer vibe that reminds me of Over Your Dead Body by Mister Monster.

He’s balls deep in her thoroughly tenderized Hot Pocket when they hear voices outside the room. It’s Taylor… and his mother. Taylor is doing his damnedest to keep her outta the room. He’s gonna have to Judo Chop ™ her. You know how you know you’re a sissy bitch, Grey? You’re a sub-30 billionaire with mercenary guards, this year's European SUVs, friggin' helicopters, a fully-equipped love dungeon... and you can’t keep your mother at bay on the weekends. Is this a chick lit thing? Ana gets to meet the hard, judgmental mother that shaped the man she loves fucks... hard?

I can only imagine he’s going to pop his dancing love puppet out of Ana, dress himself and rush out to greet her like a good son:

This is the only second chapter that features “Oh!” faces, but I predict that this gradual escalation of kink is how the book will ease the female audience into the freakiness of the love dungeon. We’re roughtly a quarter of the way through the book, all the vague exposition crap is outta the way… time to get down to slapping laps! Yeehaw! Following this formula and assuming there will be chapters with necessary chick drama, you can assume that it’ll go from missionary deflowering to bathtub blowjobs to rope bondage to anal while wearing masks to Grey’s brother Elliot helping Christian pull off the frat boy knee slapper that is The Prestige. There is no telling what kind of delicious perverted stuff this guy is gonna do to her.

I can’t wait.​

Odds that Grey utters “Awh, c’mon, mawm!” in the next chapter: 19%
Odds that Ana is going to start having to wear turtlenecks: 63%
Number of really odd Iraq rocket attack flashbacks I had writing this: 1
Number of women that rubbed one out reading this shitty review: 3
Number of times Craven Morehead rubbed one out reading this thread: 2
Times I was tempted to change Ana and Grey to Snowy and Baraka: 3

 

YAY!!!!

 

This is simply marvelous my dear!

Number of women that rubbed one out reading this shitty review: 3
Yes, it is the only stimulation I have had all summer.
I also can sew a costume that would look lovely on you Plan9 Oh yeah skin tight and all in red.

I can't believe your on crutches either, what the hell did you do?

 

*Takes MENSA test, studies results, sheds single tear*