I must have been about 11 or 12 when I had my first sexual encounter. It was voyeuristic sex, not the real thing. Now, after all these years, the crazy-popular new “mommy porn” trilogy has me experiencing flashbacks of those early encounters.
As my blurry memory serves me, I read Judy Blume’s novel Forever, a very steamy read about a young couple’s love affair, wherever I could: under my desk at school, which I’d hide under my plaid Catholic school uniform skirt whenever the teacher walked by, and under the covers of my bed, well past my bedtime. My obsession with Forever reminds me of the current mania over author E. L. Smith’s trilogy, beginning with Fifty Shades of Grey: The audience is comprised of much of the same readership that burned the midnight oil reading Forever some thirty years ago.
To be honest, that several of my middle-age mom friends are devouring Smith’s trilogy like they’re chocolate mousse and Brad Pitt rolled into one or, rather, Brad Pitt dipped in chocolate mousse, has me scratching my head.