Whatya cock!

Over the past week several things have caused me to ponder the male member – homos erectus.

Well, hopefully erectus…but often, sorry-this-has-never-happened-beforus.

I mentioned ‘chix with dix’ in my last blog, an amusing set of photo-posting clubs I found on Yafro.com featuring really stunning bodies, sexy ‘girly’ faces,super hair, big tits, enviable waists, great bums…and a cock.

Yea, lady-boys! I wrote, tongue-in-cheek, (not in their cheeks I'll have you know) I wrote that I thought, that as a bi-sexual female, this appeared to be a very tempting package. And this was interpreted in several different ways.

Members of the Brighton Muffia, those shaven headed, tattooed, pierced cunts…

…sorry, Blogger.com, a very liberal and cool organisation would want me to make it clear I’m not suggesting these people are cunts…I just mean that their genitalia is pierced. Is that clear? Absolutely clear? Good, I’d hate you to think that I have problems with the sisterhood in my fair city.

Anyway, my lesbian co-conspirators in the “war against the cock dominated fascist world - Brighton Battalion” gave me a bit of a hard time.

I got rounded on over my morning hot chocolate and my evening cocktail…oh sorry, did I just say cock…oops, pardon!

So, let me answer you all.

(1) I didn’t mean I wanted to have a cock – I’m a woman thank you and very happy in my present state. I don’t want to add six inches to my body – in fact I’d rather lose it, especially around the hips and bum.

(2) I was just fantasising about a sexual partner. It was a joke.

(3) Although for the last three years I have enjoyed sex solely with women I still think of myself as bi-sexual. Because for the other 15 years I was fucked by men – and I loved it.

It was the fuckers that pissed me off in the end, not the fucking. Plus I met an amazing woman just when I needed a bit of TLC. Then another, and now my g/f. So I’m cool, ok.

So, next question. This time from friends (especially Ms Rude)…do I miss something warm inside me on a chilly Autumn night?

Right, well, a strap-on is never going to replace a slip-in.

It may be 10 inches and totally realistic but it’s fake not real flesh and blood. So, yes, in that respect I do miss cocks. It was the extension (if you were lucky) of a sexy and loving human being and that really matters.

Today, a woman’s fingers and tongue can cause the same response in me and that’s fucking fabulous. But I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I’ve still got a soft spot for a hard-on – and you know where to find it boysJ

But does this make me lesbian-lite? Just sort of playing at it rather than living the lifestyle 24/7. I don’t think so. I know what I am and what I feel – and so does my girlfriend.

I actually hate titles. I never thought of myself as a “hetero” during the rest of my life. No one nudged their friend and whispered ‘cocksucker’ as I kissed my boyfriends in public. I was me – doing what came naturally.

And that's how I am now. Fuck the labels – please get over it girls. We may have been oppressed along with the guys in the bad old days. But now, certainly in Brighton and London it’s out in the open and we’re all cool.

So leave me alone. Giving me and other bi’s a bad time is merely repeating the disgusting behaviour of the old fashioned gay-bashers.

On the subject of gays and giving it a bashing I must mention my pals Dolce & Gabbana. I’m going to have to change their names because I called them after the logos on their pants that appeared above their jeans in the accepted style followed by shirtlifters everywhere.

Now fashion has moved on and upwards and men’s pants have disappeared from public view.

(As have girl's thongs – a rather sexy look I thought in the early days when just foxy ladies with cute tight arses (and me) showed the weekly wash in a provocative way. Then the lardbutts of Brighton and the world consciously (and worse unconsciously) offered us a view of their greying twisted arse-wipers – urrrrrggggg. Thankfully, new jean's styles mean that’s all an ugly memory.)

So with D&G under cover what can I call my lovely boy friends? How about Alcock and Brown?*

See, I’ve managed to end my piece on the same theme as I began – that’s writing skill.

Love from the cockles of my heart. Sadie

*for my US pals Alcock and Brown were 1920’s guys who flew the Atlantic and “Brown” is vulgar slang for….oh forget it.