Saturday, June 20, 2009
Different strokes from different folks
...now where was I? Oh yes that's right it was January and now it's June (sounds a bit like a song). But sadly the only song my lack of blog writing evokes is 'Sorry'.
I won't bore you with my usual excuses, time, book-writing, personal disasters etc etc but I ask for your forgiveness and request suitable punishment for my tardiness. In fact, I'll present my metaphorical bum to you, drop my pants and let you deliver a merciless metaphorical thrashing.
Feel better? Good. So now let's get on with revealing the dark places I've delved into over the past few months. Well, first there's my mind. Over the course of researching my book I've viewed and read about, but mostly I've experienced, some of the most extraordinary scenes of hanky panky with a lot of spanky added in. And now my head is overstuffed with images and sounds of what human beings will do for spiritual and sexual satisfaction. Most of this, I’m pleased to say is being channelled into my writing – but my god, is there nothing people won’t do for an orgasm?
When I started out on my ‘journey’ I was a recently divorced straight woman. Well, I was certainly divorced from the ‘scene’ (as us BDSM buddies call it). But now…!!
Well, you’ve hopefully read what I’ve got up to (and down to) over the past year or so. So briefly have I added any new ‘dark places’ to my pervy portfolio?
Nothing totally outrageous I’m sorry to report. I’m still ‘single’ with no permanent girlfriend, just the ones I meet in the café I mentioned in another blog.
I visit this once or twice a week. The form for Ladies who wish to Lunch on other Ladies is simple. You sit at a table on your own or go to a table with a single woman (of the right age etc) and you say, or the newcomer says “Is this chair free?” or something politely British.
Then you sit for a while before you speak (we aren’t Americans you know). Then you smile and she smiles and you start chatting. About 7 times out of 10 this is as far as it goes and the conversation is just a ‘girly chat’ that inevitably turns to what a bastard her boyfriend/ husband is.
But occasionally there’s something in the look she’s giving you and you try to return it. The conversation turns to clubs where girls go or she comments on your jeans in a frankly intimate way, or she gives you a rather sexual lookover when you return from the loo and you’re on. “ Let’s go back to my flat for another coffee/ look at my clothes/ books or whatever you’ve been talking about” you/she says and you leave together.
The last woman I met here was Christelle, early 40’s, black and very elegant. When we got back to my flat we kissed passionately as we sat on my sofa. She was married, wasn’t being ‘totally satisfied’, went on a training course for something or other and learnt what she’d been missing from a fellow student. As a ‘happily’ married woman with young kids she had to be discrete so it was perhaps unfortunate that she ended up with a blabbermouth blogger like me.
I’m fine with the kissing but there have been times that this is all my afternoon affairs have wanted. Kissing and cuddling, ahhhh, nice but well…it doesn’t quite hit the G spot for me. So to test Christelle out I slipped off my t-shirt and showed off my sexy black bra as I tongued her mouth. Her hands were all over my bare body and then they were unclipping my bra and then her kisses were all over my tits. That’s more like it!
It was time to reveal more about Christelle and I pulled her smart silk top over her head. She was wearing a white sports bra that looked amazing against her toned and polished skin. Off came her skirt and now I could peruse her pants. I always like this moment, it tells you so much about a woman. Her knickers were plain cotton, white and beautifully cut. She unhooked her bra as I slid off my jeans. Her tits were quite small but the nipples were huge (a great look I think) and I had a great look then a great feel and then I was sucking on them. Christelle gasped and her legs gaped in her excitement. Her pants stretched over and subtly indicated her hot spot and my fingers traced the sexy material.
Chistelle wasn’t a wild woman and our play was dignified. Well as dignified as two naked women rolling on the floor with their fingers up each other will ever be. She sweated freely in her excitement and I just loved the feel of her gleaming seal-like body. Her bum was generous – well it kindly let me do anything I wanted to it.
And then it was over. And she lay breathless on the sofa whilst I made a cup of coffee. We then sat thereon the sofa, two naked Englishwomen, smelling of sex, sipping coffee and talking about the shop where she’d bought her pants. Only in Brighton!!!
So life goes on. However there was one ‘dark place’ that I never imagined I’d be investigating and that’s in a man’s underpants.
I loved fucking men for the first part of my life, until it became ‘fucking men’. Or man in my case and then Act 2 has been ‘women only’. Not because I became a man-hater (some of my best friends etc) or didn’t get offers it was just what did or didn’t turn me on I suppose.
So when I was out one Friday morning running along the promenade I didn’t expect to run into a brief life-change. In fact, it ran past me, a man intent on doing man-like things jogged past, turned to look at me and then powered on up the road. He was in his 30’s, looked fit in his sweat shirt and shorts, nice smile, nice bum, nice legs and then nicely forgotten. Until I, now walking to relax a bit, turned a corner and he was standing, one leg on the bench, stretching his calf muscles.
“Hi” he said, mid-stretch, “great day for it”. Not the most promising opening line to a romance but actually true in an entirely different way to what he’d intended.
“Hi” I replied and walked on but now he was walking beside me.
Now, modestly (ha ha) I must admit I was looking pretty good. I’d lost several pounds at the gym, gained a good all-over tan on the beach and was in a nipple popping T-shirt and bum hugging latex shorts.
I love latex but it didn’t usually love my lumps and bumps. But now it clung to my newly fashioned curves like a lover’s hand. There was even a merest hint of cameltoe to complete the celebration of Sadie’s sexiness.
So, I wasn’t surprised that I’d got Rod’s attention (that’s not his name but I think it’s quite funny, I also thought of calling him Roger). We walked along talking about the weather, the promenade and, hey, he was very witty and charming and when he suggested stopping for a cup of tea it would have been a hard arsed old ladylicker who would have said no.
He was in town for a week long convention, he said. Then off we went again…blah, blah, blah, Brighton, blah, blah, blah my job, blah, blah, blah his job, blah, blah, blah, on his own tonight…then, a long lingering look at my latex sculpted bum as I went to the loo (I could see his reflection in the café window) and a careful attempt not to stare too hard and my tits and ‘toe as I came back.
Then he invited me to dinner and I said ‘yes’ knowing a fuck was definitely on the menu. So why? you’re thinking, if it’s so easy for a man to get into Sadie’s pants why has it taken this long?
Well like most things it’s a conjunction of elements. First, it was a spur of the moment ‘why not’ (he was fit and funny). Then, it was because I’ve come to the bit in my book where some good straight hetero humping is a plot necessity and I though I might be a little out-of-touch on cock culture. And then I have no partner so ‘why not’ again?
So, drinks, meal, chat, laughter, back to hotel for ‘nightcap’ and up to room.
I decided to play the straight women. So much so that when he unzipped my skirt and it fell to the floor revealing my best pants, I looked shocked when he jokingly said he was hoping I’d be in my latex shorts. “Ooooh kinky are you” I gushed (privately thinking that the last time I’d seen latex pants in a sexual situation they were unzipped across the cunt and the owner was getting a purple dildo up her arse)
Then Rod’s rod appeared and play began. He did all the modern man things, sucking me snd tickling my clit and then to prove he’d watched some porn on his conference hotel TV he bent my legs right back and fucked me from above. ( 9 out of 10)
We met up, went to films and fucked for the rest of his week. And then he fucked off saying he’d be back and I must see him in Birmingham (where he lived). But I expect he was going back to his wife so no “au revoir Rod”.
But life goes on. I have my inspiration for my book and when I’ve finished this I’ll be going back to the table in the café waiting for some women to say “Is this seat taken”. The answer is No and neither is mine yet.
Love and kisses Sadie xxxxxx