In the beginning, there was doing all the sex from Fifty Shades of Grey. And I did it, and it was good (but also scarred me for life). And then there was doing all the sex from Fifty Shades Darker, and it was still good, but I couldn't walk for a week and cried myself to sleep for a month. Now, I'm back to try all the sex from Fifty Shades Freed and folks, I'm scared. I'm really, really scared. But I'm excited, too, I guess? Either way, on with the show!
Honeymoon Jet Sex
Saturday, 10 a.m.
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What you're supposed to do: Have sex on a private jet calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Grey, respectively and excessively. This is Christian and Ana's first time together as man and wife, and of course they have to make it weird. He salivates in her general direction, plays with her nips, goes down on her, and then they have missionary sex. As I've written before, for all its overblown adjectives, most Fifty Shades sex is just oral into missionary. My working theory is that E.L. James is a traveler from the far future sent here to see how dumb we all are.
What we do: Not to brag or anything, but my husband and I have sex together sometimes, so we knock this one outta the park. The whole "calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Grey shit" is bizarro in the book, but in practice, it's funnier than anything else. At one point, we both went into battling Borat "My wiiiife" impersonations, which was both humiliating and hilarious. Laughing during sex is the best, because sex is really fucking weird and if you can't make fun of the fact that someone's tongue is licking your crotch, what can you make fun of? Ana and Christian's wack relationship? OK, fine, I'll do that, too!
Hand Cuff "Punishment" Sex
Saturday, noon
What we're supposed to do: Christian is back on his bullshit when he decides to "punish" Ana with some hand-cuff sex for taking off her top on a topless beach. I mean, seriously? Fuck you, guy? I wish the next 15 sex scenes just involved them going to couple's counseling, but then what would we all masturbate to?
This sex position is actually kind of complicated! I had to read it several times and make a flow chart which we then studied, culminating with me quizzing my husband. He got nothing right but we moved forward anyway. This is the gist: You put two separate pairs of cuffs on each ankle, then hug your knees, then cuff each hand to each ankle so you can’t straighten your legs. Then, when you're fully trussed up like a Christmas ham, he enters from behind, and it's all very sexy/terrifying. Oh, and their safe word is, get this, popsicle.
What we do: Even though I made a literal fucking chart with several illustrations, our dumb asses could barely get the job done. After several false starts, we finally unlocked the code, and that's when the real humiliation began. If anyone had walked in mid-cuffing, they would have assumed my husband was preparing me for a roast. I've never been more in touch with the fact that bodies are just flesh sacks of fat, bone, and muscle. I was just a fat sack of shit handcuffed to myself and praying for death. And then it was time to get fucked from behind!
If this sex is punishment for Ana being a bad, bad girl — read: human being exercising bodily autonomy — then I guess bravo to Christian for concocting this ultimate humiliation. As for me and my husband, this is so not our thing, and he did a few half-hearted thrusts to say we attempted it and then we both screamed "popsicle" so loud, the house shook and the walls cried blood.
A Quickie With Simultaneous Orgasm
Saturday, 3 p.m.
After the earlier mess, we went out to ice cream to soothe our weary souls. Honestly, Christian and Ana just depress me in lots of ways? I guess she's into it, but there are so many times that feel only borderline consensual that it just pangs my heart. Like, who could Ana be with a little therapy and a hug?
But whatever, back to Fifty Shades Freed... of all dignity, hope, and shame!
What we're supposed to do: Christian and Ana have a quickie with all of his clothes on and her shirt on, which will allegedly bring us to achieve the much sought-after simultaneous orgasm.
What we do: Again, not to brag, but I have regular sex with my husband, and we have reached simultaneous orgasm many a time. GET YOU A MAN, MY FRIENDS! Anyway, the tricky thing with having sex partially clothed is not accidentally getting his dick stuck in or attacked by his jeans' zipper. It was suspenseful — like watching Mission Impossible but with my husband's wang at stake. His teeth were actually chattering from stress, and I couldn't take my eyes off the action.
"If Cosmo gets my dick sawed off, I'm going to the offices and making one of them reattach it," he screamed. As we reached the peak of orgasm, we held each other and sobbed in relief. It was over. We made it. Everything's gonna be OK.
Getting Busy After a Car Chase
Saturday, 5 p.m.
Except it might not be OK, because now we have to have sex in a car. JFC, E.L. James.
What we're supposed to do: Immediately after a high-speed chase with her stalker — Christian "impales" Ana with his dick while she sits on top, facing the windshield.
What we do: Since I always obey the speed limit, and have no stalker, and my car is decidedly more low rent than an Audi, this proved challenging — but, hey, everything worth having is worth working for! We decide to combine this one with some errands because shit, you can't just fuck on the weekends. You gotta go to Trader Joe's, too! I fight with some swole brah over the last container of coconut yogurt and that really gets my adrenaline going. Don't mess with my coconut yogurt, dude. You have *no* idea what I've been through today.
Anyway, after we drive home and look for a secluded area to park, we determine that this would be next to impossible, as we live in the middle of a very busy, very bright city. And since we have to park on the street, and I'm not trying to get arrested, and I'm certainly not trying to get arrested for attempting Fifty Shades Freed sex, we instead go inside and my husband chases me around with a pair of tongs. Then we have sex in front of a window that faces a brick wall. A bird walked by and looked at me funny. Same, bird. Same.
Butt Plug Sex
Saturday, 9:45 p.m.
What we're supposed to do: They're back in the frickin' playroom. Ana is blindfolded, lying on her stomach, grabbing the edge of a surface. Christian then touches her vag, lubes up a butt plug, puts in the butt plug into Ana's butt, and they have sex. Hooray! (I'm dead inside.)
What we do: OMG, Christian and Ana, please! Can't you just go to sleep!? I feel like spanking them both (in a non-sexual way) and putting them down for nap time. After my husband pleads to put this off until tomorrow, and I tell him no, we need the money to buy therapy, he sighs and ties the blindfold on. As I hang on to the edge of the bed for dear life, my husband half-heartedly massages my vulva and then sticks in the lubed up butt plug. He then inserts his penis in my vagina and the butt plug goes flying. Are people able to keep butt plugs in while they have sex?! For me, it's just too much stuff inside down there and my body will naturally eject an item. Anyone? Anyone? Just me? OK, well, maybe I'm built like a Barbie in my nether regions, but this shit is not logistically possible for me.
Anyway, whatever, this was fine. Can we go to sleep yet?
Sex With the TV On
Saturday, 11 p.m.
Nope! We cannot go to sleep yet!
What we're supposed to do: The X-Files dry hump! Watch the X-Files, dry hump, and then have sex — sorry, in the terminology of the poet E.L. James, "swiftly he fills me." Shudder.
What we do: Duh, we turn on the best X-Files episode! "Ice" from Season 1 is iconic. OMG, it's so good. In fact, it's so good that when we try to dry hump, I push my husband out of the way so I can see Scully in her dope parka. We decide it's not gonna work if it's an episode we actually want to watch, so we turn on one of the new ones, and we dry hump just to avoid watching it. The dry humping is actually kinda fun, but I'm not sure if it's only because we've been wet humping (sorry) for like, 52 hours straight. Then, my husband takes off his pants to make sure his dick hasn't fallen off, and it's thankfully still there, and so we have sex and immediately fall asleep for seven days. JK, I wish! We gotta do more of this shit tomorrow! Pray for our souls!
Getting Freaky During a Haircut
Sunday, 10 a.m.
What we're supposed to do: Ana gives Christian a haircut, he gets water on her t-shirt so it's like a wet t-shirt contest but just for two people, then gives her a nipple only-orgasm (!?!?). Then she goes down on him. I don't even know.
What we do: Dude, I just gave him a haircut. Fuck this. I'm not going to pretend that a nipple only-orgasm is even remotely possible for me, and I'm certainly not going down on my husband in the same place we take shits. Anyway, I have to say, my hair cut skills are not great and now my husband looks like the No Country for Old Men guy. So, Sunday started with some tears and also some outrage. This post might be my final will and testament. And what a way to go!
Sex With a Wand Vibrator
Sunday, noon
What we're supposed to do: More "punishment" sex! Ugh, this time it's because Ana "went out to drinks with a friend." These two, man. Not good. Anyway, she's tied to some sort of cross-like structure with her hands bound. He uses a wand-style (Hitachi Magic Wand 4 lyfe!) vibrator on her. It's actually pretty sad in the book and she has to use the safe word to stop and if I think about it too much, I may just pick up the phone to call the authorities on a fictional couple.
What we do: I mean, at its heart, this is just my husband getting me off with the greatest gift of the goddesses — the Hitachi Magic Wand. I don't have a child, but I can't imagine loving anything more than that blessed orgasm machine. I tell my husband to chop, chop with creepily tying me up at the stake (bed) and blindfolding me, so he can get me off. He does and it's good. It's very good. I'm flying high and loving it. Can I meet the inventor of this thing and give her a big fat kiss on the lips and thank her for her service?
Seated Oral Sex
Sunday, 12:30 p.m.
What we're supposed to do: Ana wakes Christian up from a nightmare and they have sex. Then he gives her oral while she's sitting up on the side of the bed and he's kneeling on the floor, and then they have sex again. I'm so tired.
What we do: This isn't a nightmare, but rather our scary, scary actual lives, from which I don't have the option of waking my husband up. Nevertheless, she persisted! (Side note: It's Sunday at 12:30 p.m. and some people are still in Church.)
I climb on top of my husband and say, "Let's get this over with," and he says, "I've never been more turned on," and I'm all, "Really?!" and he's like, "No! Are you kidding me?" We have sex, and it's actually pretty fun, because sex is still fun and great, and I am not yet completely dead inside.
Then, the interesting part, I have to sit on the edge of the bed with my husband kneeling between my legs and giving me oral sex. Now, normally oral sex is the best — as I've said before, if you look up happiness in the dictionary, it is just my boyfriend going down on me as Joshua Jackson feeds me chocolate bonbons and I give the camera a thumbs-up. However, it proves difficult to get the correct angle with me hanging off the side of the bed and my husband on his knees on the ground. We end up using some pillows under my lower back and moving a dresser so that I could put my feet on it and lift myself up, while he hovered between my legs and chowed down. It was kinda like getting a pap smear, but a sexy one! A porno pap smear! And then we took a nap.
Slightly Hungover Sex
Sunday, 5 p.m.
What we're supposed to do: After a wild night out, Christian and Ana wake up, drink some water, fight, wrestle, and then have sex. Then, after yet another fight some time later, they have oral sex in soft leather cuffs followed by reverse-cowgirl sex. K.
What we do: After my husband told me he couldn't remember what anything besides my vagina tastes like, I decide I simply could not, and we drank a pitcher of margaritas instead. Fuck it.
Tied Up To a Couch Sex
Sunday, 7 p.m.
What we're supposed to do: Using bathrobe cords, Christian ties Ana's knees to the corner of a sofa so that her legs are splayed outward. Then he masturbates her and she comes, naturally. Then they do it from behind.
What we do: Home mother-fucking stretch, fools. We got this. A super human strength surges through us both and we're ready to burst through walls like the Kool-Aid man whilst yelling, "WHO WANTS TO FUCK!?" I'm losing it.
Since you can't really tie anything to the corners of our jankity Ikea couch, and we have to improvise by having me splay out on the sofa by myself. I feel very exposed and... I'm kinda into it? Normally I'd be trying to strategically cover my stomach or worried about my jelly rolls, but after a weekend of living like Christian and Ana, you have no sense of self anymore. Screw it! At the end of the day, we're all animals; sacks of flesh ready to grind our bits on other people's bits. Thank you, Ana and Christian, for teaching me this very basic lesson, and for letting me get eaten out while eating a pint of Chunky Money and watching 30 Rock reruns. I'm truly living my best (?) life. We take this one no further, because my husband's penis is just ornamental by this point.
The end. It's over. Thank Ana's inner goddess because it's over. It's finally over. I'm Fifty Shades Freed. Hallelujah.
