My adventure in writing "Mommy Porn."

In order to complete my coattail-riding parody, I've been forced to read the Fifty Shades trilogy. I've made it through the first two. "No great accomplishment," you say? I disagree. Making it the entire way through one of these books--keeping in mind that I have external ovaries--is like running a marathon ... in mud ... in high heels ... after eating five Doritos-shelled tacos.

I haven't cringed so much since I saw Joe Theismann's leg snapped.

Still, life is best lived with an open mind and an open heart. Perhaps one day I would enjoy taking the virginity of a hyper-orgasmic punching bag. Doubtful.

My greatest concern lies around the first post-Fifty sexual encounter I have. (Been on a bit of a slump, lately. Sorry, Coach.) Chances are Ms. Next will have read the trilogy, and is unlikely to be familiar with my parodies. Here's a list of things that could happen:

• She'll fantasize about Christian Grey and yell out his name, which will cause instantaneous deflation.
• She'll murmur any-fucking-thing.
• She'll moan into my mouth. (I just burped-up a little.)
• She'll begin using safe words before I get her jeans off.
• She'll want to be face-down on or about Chapter Ten before permitting penetration.
• She'll expect me to own a helicopter with a silly name like Barney Slapnuts.
• She'll request me to kick her boss in the kerbangers or buy out his company, if she has a bad day at the office.
• She'll scare the piss out of my cats by making guttural sounds.

Thanks to that evil James woman, I'm going to have to rewrite my sexual playbook. The plays that worked pre-Fifty, simply won't do. I've had to tear this page out and shred it:

1. Drink bottle of wine.
2. Watch The Notebook, or something similar.
3. Go to bedroom.
4. Light candle.
5. Disrobe.
6. Kiss.
7. Go down on her.
8. Hint for her to return the favor.
9. Mount, poke taint, concede to guided insertion.
10. Flop over.
11. Be mounted and play with boobs.
12. Orgasm.
13. Think of clever things to say.
14. Fetch towel.
15. Wipe.
16. Find clothes in dark.
17. Walk out to car.
18. Kiss.
19. Speak words of appreciation.
20. Sleep.

The post-Fifty playbook needs some Bill Belichick shit. What's a man to do? How does one fit anything that won't cause yawning? I'm at the drawing board, making room for:

1. Butt plugs.
2. Fungo ass paddles.
3. Vodka enemas.
4. Hiney beads coated in mint jelly.
5. Super Soakers.
6. Brass balls that are inserted ... Fuck, I have no clue how this is possible or pleasurable.
7. Remote controlled vibrators.
8. Whips.
9. Fake stock portfolio statements showing seven digits.
10. Nipple clamps.

This could drive me toward early retirement.