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50 Shades of Reality

Discipline, dominance, humiliation, a slave contract, spankings and toys shoved in the wrong places? If this doesn't describe motherhood, I don't know what does.

Middle-aged women are eating up 50 Shades of Grey, by E.L. James, as escapist mommy porn because virginal college student Anastasia Steele and her dashing dominant boyfriend Christian Grey couldn't be further from their everyday existence. Here's how some of those soft-core fantasy episodes really go down in family homes across Miami:

The hot wrestling scene

I've got both of my hands on his in a viselike grip above his head. He's squirming and thrusting his pelvis into the air. Suddenly, his erect penis springs free and I find myself gasping in the sticky afterflow of a golden shower. I slip my hand under his buttocks and pull the hot, moist fabric free, shoving a clean one in its place in one smooth, gliding motion. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes!" I exclaim with satisfaction. "The Dominator achieves yet another diaper change."

Please, just pull my hair

The Mr.'s arms are wrapped around me, and he's pulling me to him, hard, fast, gripping my ponytail to tilt my head up, kissing me like his life depends on it … He drags the hair tie painfully out of my hair, but I don't care. He needs me, for whatever reason, at this point in time, and I have never felt so desired and coveted – until I realize that the ponytail holder I grabbed this morning to tie back my hair is my daughter's Hello Kitty pigtail ribbon. Instantly, the mood vanishes as the little bobtail cat waves and stares back at me with those accusing, unblinking black-dot eyes.

Speechless in the morning

Wow! I take one look at my Mr. and can barely speak. With his tousled hair, he is so mouthwateringly gorgeous. The epitome of male beauty. "G-gosh," I say."You seem to be struck dumb," he wryly observes. "I like that in a woman … can you shave my back and make me some eggs?"

Signing on the dotted line

I am unable to resist. No man has ever affected me in this way before. "Here's the contract for our relationship," my Mr. says, slipping an oyster down my throat. "I will be the Dominant and you will be the Submissive. You will do everything I say and allow me to cane you, tie you up, sodomize you, clamp your genitals and share your bank account. In return, you can tell everybody you're my wife." "But Sir," I exclaim. "I'm still a feminist, so I will have to draw the line at co-mingling our funds."

Punish me now

My inner goddess melts as Mr. forces his tongue inside me. I have never been this wet before. He bends me over his knee and raises his hand to slap me hard. Then he suddenly catches himself and forces me to sit on a small stool facing the wall. "You stay in time out until you can figure out what you did wrong," he shouts before walking away. It feels wrong, but somehow very right.

Boxer surprise

Suddenly, Mr. sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. His rumpled briefs spring to life. Holy cow! He starts to slide his elastic waistband past his hips. Will it? How? "Wait, honey, come on," I complain, throwing up my hands. "I've told you before not to stick Buzz Lightyear in your boxers." He smiles broadly, posing the question with his eyes. "To infinity and beyond?" What a buzzkill. "Forget it, Woody."


"'Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. "Because I'm fifty shades of f-cked up," Mr. says. "The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore" … I slip into a satisfied and validated sleep, all my suspicions about my mother-in-law confirmed.