Monday, December 31, 2007
Lesbian lunches and a spanking New Year
I’ve just been listening to Woman’s Hour, a very tweed skirt, 4x4 and sensible knickers radio programme for ‘ladies’ that runs every day on Radio 4. Now, I know this isn’t a very promising start to a sexy blog but hey, don’t just go straight to ‘Girl with a one track mind’ stay with me, at least while I make my point. And it was because they were doing a feature on Mistresses, mainly Royal ones from Nell Gwyn to dear old Camilla. Actually I find her a bit of a turn-on, those tight jodhpurs, that cocksucking mouth, that haughty manner, wow I bet after a few whiskies she’s anyone’s, man, woman or beast (with a mane of course). But sorry I digress, although a horsewhipping and a romp in the hay with the dirty Duchess would be any sensual woman’s dream.
But, ahem, back to my point. They were all men’s mistresses, and I’m a woman’s mistress, Ms Hastings (my lover) is fairly happily married and I’m the bitter bit on the side. Because Christmas is a notably sad and lonely time for the world’s mistresses, now, all you boring married people will say “well dear, you made your bed so lay alone in it and wank yourself silly you treacherous cow”. But Woman’s Hour asked for sympathy for us mistresses, we provide a sexual service, we often keep marriages together and one of us will be the next Queen and if they say that you should listen.
Not that I care this Christmas. A cool lady, I’ll call Fiona, got in touch with me in the Summer after I moaned about being not very high but considerablely dry (between the thighs) when Ms Hastings went back to Mr Hastings. She’s in the same position as me, under or on top of a married woman for a couple of nights a month, so we kept in touch.
Apropos of lonely Christmas’s she suggested a Mistresses Lunch on the 25th. So Fiona, me, a woman I’ll call Charlie and another woman, I’ll call Camilla (well a girl can dream) met up at a restaurant called ‘Vanilla’ in Hove (I think this might have been Fiona’s joke).
Three of us were girly but Charlie was a bit of a boi (more masculine in styling for those not in the know). In amongst all the couples and families celebrating not having to cook the fucking turkey we probably stood out a little. We’d all scrubbed up for the occasion but we clearly looked like 4 women who weren’t long-time friends and it was all a little formal. But then Fiona suggested a bottle of Bolly and after several glasses whilst looking at the menu, I suddenly remembered something I’d read in my research for my book.
“If we are what we eat then all lesbians must be cunts” I volunteered, so we toasted this and ordered another bottle. Our mood grew more and more bubbly, the food was ok but our reminiscences were very tasty and some of them extremely spicy. My, my, what the middle class women of East Sussex get up to on those hot and sweaty afternoons while hubby is holed up in London!!!
And why not? I so surprised that most women don’t try a little lady love on the side. It is different, it is sensual (yes we do know exactly which bits to work on) and it’s remarkably safe. No unwanted bumps, no violence (unless that turns you on) and we are completely discreet. Although, after listening to my three new mates I wonder if the men wouldn’t be actually aroused if they found out what their other half’s girl-on-girl action.
By now, our laughter was getting a bit loud and we were getting ‘looks’ from the other dull diners. Fuck’em, we were having a brilliant Christmas. When all the boring people had left to return to their yuletide rows and Dr Who on TV we ordered another drop of Bolly and sang carols with the waiters. They were all in their twenties and I noticed them assessing us lasciviously, four pissed females up for fun. I imagined them thinking that we might fancy a bit of extra pudding – sorry boys, you picked the wrong girls.
If this had been my book we’d have all ended up in a hotel room as a naked, frolicking foursome finding amusing things to do to each other with our bolly bottles. But this was life so we kissed, swore we’d do it again and parted to our lonely nights. Although Charlie squeezed my bum so it wasn’t all sad.
I wasn’t actually alone on Christmas night. I spent it with Dolce & Gabbanna, who are my gay chums. We sat with a couple of their friends watching a dvd of ‘West Side Story’. And as usual when I’m a bit miserable, I ended up snuggled between them in bed.
So that was my Christmas, probably not much like yours but typical for me. It’s weird that because of my blog people think I lead a permanently promiscuous existence. But, hey as I always say I only write about the ‘dark parts’ and I probably spend more time than you seeking them out.
The majority of my days are spent earning a living, cleaning the flat, shopping, watching the news and going to the loo. And you don’t want to read about that do you?
You don’t want to hear about me watching TV, you want to read about me watching a TV whip a naked man in a Kent S&M club. There she was, with the best body there, in a blond wig, black bra, thong and long leather boots taking great pleasure in viciously thrashing the man’s arse then tenderly massaging his flaming cheeks and cupping his balls. (A hint of this world can be found in the pic I chose for the top of this blog. It's a rather seasonal shot of one of Santa's little helpers being a little tied up. It's borrowed from costumecuties.com, a great bondage site featuring woman in various fetish uniforms)
The S&M evening was last November, and I’m looking forward to more of it in 2008. And spanking, I love doing it and found that I rather liked it being done to me. And I’m not alone, just put ‘spanking’ into Google. There millions of us, watching the movies and appearing in them. There are clubs like Northern Spankers that do movies and also ‘party nights’ when you can spank the bums of the girls who appear in the movies. Mmmmmm, tight knickers caught up the crack then pulled down to reveal plump girly gluts. Then the slapping and squealing – I can’t get enough of it.
Finally my best wishes go out to Ms Hastings, Pretty Polly (my pantyhose pal) Madame Madge (my delicious French delicacy) and Ms Strict (who toned up my bum muscles) - and of course all of my lovely sexy readers
Here’s to a happy, slappy New Year
Love & lashes Sadie xxxxxxxxxx