My reflections on climate change and the World recession…oh and a lesbian threesome too.

What a fucking awful summer!

Fucking rain all the time…fucking people irritating me…fucking Gordon Brown and his woring bankers (or have I got the first letters the wrong way round) and to make 2008 preferably forgettable – very little fucking for Sadie!

Hello again by the way – usual excuses for absence (see blogs 2007, 2006 and 2005)

I’ll very quickly get through the high points of May to October – a couple of hours with Annie and Angie on the 21 July, Kristen Scott Thomas in “I loved you so long”, a sentence I really enjoyed writing for my new book and…and well, a fish and chip supper with Morgan (my co-writer) at the Blue Dolphin in Hastings. That’s all, folks!

Mentioning Hastings brings me to the low points. Yes you’ve guessed it, Ms Hastings and I are an ex-thing, we are no more, Ms Hastings has left to spend more time with her family and I’m left desolate.

Madonna, Heather Mills and little me – it’s been a bad time for a bitch, by which I mean, of course, Beautiful Intelligent Talented Charming Hell of a woman. I read that in some American self-help manual, bullshit naturally but it made me laugh.

And laughing, chuckling or even smiling is something I haven’t been doing much of since my lovely cuddly sexy woman walked out on me. It was my fault I suppose (how many times have I written that?). She said she didn’t mind my fucking around, after all she was married etc, but really she did. It was a nagging thing that hid it’s ugly head until other issues emerged then it popped up and frightened us both.

I think she felt guilty about being the prim mother of two in polite and proper Hastings circles whilst at the same time being the perverted, sensual bundle of decadent cuntiness with me. In the end she said that she felt a hypocrite while lecturing her children on right and wrong.

I took this calmly and in a considered manner of course…

…did I fuck!!!!!

I yelled, cried, slammed doors and slammed her husband a bit (big mistake). That nagging ugly truth I mentioned earlier then burst out and she was shouting now. SHE DID MIND MY FUCKING AROUND!!!! I was a thoughtless, selfish tart with loose morals, how did I imagine we had a future together? Did I expect she was going to leave her husband and lovely kids to join me in my sordid world…lesbians, S&M clubs, why we’d be doing threesomes soon…

…which brings me to the sexy bit. Oh good, at last you say.

One rainy night I was in “Charles Street” with Dolce & Gabbana, Ms Rude and several other friends. One of the friends of the friends broke away and came over to talk with me. She was called Angie, I didn’t know her but she knew of me. “I just had to say Hello” she said, “Jim there said you were Sadie Dark and I just love your blog” Well, of course, I’m a sucker for flattery…

..which is how I ended up sucking her cunt later that evening. Angie was late 20’s and her flatmate Annie was late 30’s. They had haunting eyes and beautiful mouths and both were very fit (lots of workouts). After Angie had greeted me, she introduced me to Annie and we sat at a table chatting about my blog and the things I write about. The conversation and the chocolate martinis flowed and I could see where this was leading, as could my friends at the bar who were smirking and making rude gestures at me.

Actually it lead to the girl’s flat. Then we were kissing and then I was topless and then my hand was down Angie’s knickers and Annie was nibbling my nips.

A threesome is special (as my sophisticated readers no doubt know from experience) – because it is so relentless. Tongues were tickling my tits and teasing my arse. Fingers were grabbing my hair and forcing themselves deep inside me.

It was almost unbearable. I was coming time after time and making my friends come too. Burying myself in their bums and tits with my fingers playing away like a concert pianist having a fit. The three of us became a sweaty, smelly, panting entity until physically and sexually exhausted we broke apart.

Then we lay there nude, giggling and touching and comparing bums, tits and cunts. I fell asleep warm and comfortable in all the female fleshiness.

Sadly I told Ms Hastings about this at some point. And the rest is harrowing history.

There were lots of other low points too. I didn’t write much, Morgan’s mind is much occupied with the recession’s effect on his future in advertising and so he’s not writing much either. My job is…oh this is getting too dull.

It’s a bright Autumn day and I’m determined to fall on my feet and into someone else’s bed…be in touch soon.

Love & Kisses Sadie

Sorry, I’ve been a bit tied up lately

I’m virtually naked, I’m on my knees, it’s hot in the room, excited people are gathered around me and a trickle of sweat glides down my backbone and between my bum cheeks. My black shiny knickers are at half mast, and being a shy, modest woman, as you know, my first instinct is to haul them up to cover my embarrassment and my gigantic arse…but…

…but unfortunately my hands are bound in rope, as are my arms, and the whole upper half of my body. Even my tits are tightly encircled with rope and they stick out like rugby balls whilst going the colour of cricket balls. Then I sense Jemima close to my ear and hear her voice saying:

“Alright, are you Sadie…Great, well let’s get these off and Jacob can continue?”

Then she grips my knickers and slips them off. I now look at bit like the women in the pic (from the excellent site Dave Annis’s Rope bound Babes) I was looking straight at Jacob’s smiling face as his hand slides down my belly then the sensation of the rope being slid between my thighs, another hand reaches between my bum cheeks grasps the rope end and pulls it tight and upwards. I gasp as it chafes my sensitive bits, then gasp again as a large knot brushes my clit…

Yes, I’ve been a bit tired up in many ways over the past few months so, first, my apologies to my readers for yet another boring, inexcusable absence from this blog.

Yes, you’ve heard it before, sorry, sorry, sorry…writing my book etc etc…emotion problems, yawn, yawn…life too boring to blog, yea yea…too bone idle, yea that sounds more like!

But hey I’m back. It’s hotter in Brighton than Bangkok, but then, darlings, Brighton is always hot, whatever the weather. I’ve repainted my flat and refurnished it with the help of my gay friends Dolce and Gabbana, (they don’t wear their underpants above their jeans anymore, sooooooo 2006 but I still think the knickernames suit them). My spring-cleaning and makeover doesn’t mean I’m suddenly rich or anything. I’ve now got two jobs, which, partly explains my lack of blogging but are too mind-numbingly boring to mention here – but it does mean extra cash. So out went the shabby bed, rugs and sofa and out went Sadie to tour East Sussex’s auction room and antique shops with my expert homo designers.

I was sad to see the bed go. Ah good, my regular readers will be thinking, beds = shagging, that’s what we want to hear about, not shopping. Some very nice people from Age Concern came to pick it and a couple of cupboards up. As it was loaded into the van I wondered what sort of action it would see at its new home.

Lets not be ageist, the new owner may be in their 60’s but then so is Mick Jagger and he’s still getting satisfaction every which way with a succession of shag-tastic supermodels.

But I doubt it’ll receive as much girl-on-girl pounding. I got all nostalgic after the van has left with my memory filled (and probably stained) mattress. It had originally belonged to my friend Sue. She rented the flat before me and I took on the furnishings when I moved in. She had a steady boyfriend so they must have taxed the springs many times. I assume she bought the bed when she moved in but the thought just struck me that maybe the bed was there when she moved in.

Fuck, imagine how many other couples might have coupled in it throughout the 90’s? Or, this being Brighton, how many threesomes, foursomes, or even farmyard animals? A history dotted with DNA, a whole saga of sweat and semen, urrrrgggggg, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

So best to remember the last occupant (along with me, of course), who was the aforementioned Jemima. We bumped into each other at Coffee, Cake & Kink, the amusingly decadent dive in Covent Garden where the photos and books lining the walls are definitely hotter than the excellent coffee. Dolce and I were attending an exhibition of fetish fotos, looking fashionably fettled in leather. A couple of friends of Dolce were there with this slim woman in a white vest and black leggings. This was Jemima, and we chatted amicably about the images and then I got the “look”.

It’s hard to explain the ‘look’. Guys go on about ‘gaydar’ but I think it doesn’t quite work like this with women. I’m not sure you can spot a lesbian through some instinct because women are much more flirty and ‘touchy-feely’ with each other even if they’re ‘straight’ and only like bonking blokes. But the ‘look’ is different, it’s overtly sexual, direct and demanding, and it’s meaning is unmistakeable.

You can of course, ignore it, and then things go on amicably and you eventually say goodbye. But I chose not to.

Jemima’s flat was a 20 minute taxi away and our juices bubbled all the way. I hadn’t seen Miss Hastings (my bosom buddy) for a couple of weeks – half term holidays with the kids or something and I was feeling lonely and lustful. She was sexy in a handsome sort of way, her nipples teased me through her vest and her strong, businesslike manner fascinated me. I felt she was going to thoroughly dominate me and I was rather looking forward to the idea,

“Don told me you write the Sadie Dark blog” Jemima had said earlier, then she’d flashed one of her rare smiles. “ You like lots of kinky stuff don’t you – good!”

When we got inside her flat I expected the customary glass of wine then a kiss or two. But no, she led me into the bedroom and then said, “Do what I say”.

But she didn’t say anything, she just stripped me. Off came my shirt and bra, then down went my leather skirt, my black tights and even my knickers. There’s usually a little play in our knickers, because that’s what sexy underwear is all about, a little fondling and pinching as a foretaste of the fuck to come.

But not with Jemima. It was a bit impersonal in fact, just like removing the clothes off a shop window dummy. And then she pushed this dummy onto the bed, slipped off her vest and sank her fingers into my cunt. It must be what a prostitute gets from a ‘quickie’ client.

Fortunately the juices that had started flowing in the taxi were still bubbling so her entrance into my entrance wasn’t so rough. She knew what she was doing though and soon I was gasping and grunting.

Jemina had small tits and large tattoos. A whole pattern on thorny roses covered her back. There was a skull and crossbones on her belly and when she finally took her leggings off I saw more roses on her thighs and a single bloom on her tight boyish bum.

She vigorously fucked me and it was shockingly good. She then smiled at me again and produced some handcuffs. I let her cuff my hands to her metal bed back and I was now hers to play with.

Which she did relentlessly. I sucked her toes and stuck my tongue where the sun don’t shine as she crouched over me whilst she bit my tits, explored my arse, and did unmentionable things to me – oh sorry I’ve just mentioned them.

This was a new experience for me and, whilst a bit messy, was terrific fun.

Later, she mentioned Jacob her sometime boyfriend and ‘Master’. She showed me pics of her being bound and suspended and suggested I’d enjoy it.

We met up again in Brighton (in my late bed) and the play was just as rude and riotous. There was tying up and spanking and strap on action and a bit of pissing about – which I usually don’t mind, but this involved real piss!!

And a week later, there I was at Jacob’s little party, bound to please. It was pleasing Jacob anyway as he demonstrated his skill with the ropes. Fortunately I wasn’t going to be suspended, you have to be a bit more experienced (and fit) to survive hanging three feet off the floor.

Basically he hogtied me. I was on my knees, tits now turning purple with my big arse in the air. You can see why they named it after a pig. The other guests, men and women gathered around and peered closely at me. They made out they were studying the knots but I guessed it was my naughty bits.

So there you have it. What Sadie’s been getting up to over the past few months. Still, it’s all research for my book. Oh sorry I promised I wouldn’t mention my boring book.

Knots and Knots of love

Sadie xxxxxx