Can fucking be funny?

Hi,

Here's a thought: can or should the act of love raise a laugh? Of course we know it happens all the time in real life. Sex is full of funny noises from piggy grunts to full blown fanny serenades. And what about those ridiculous 'ass over elbow' positions we find ourselves in? Let's admit it, we've all got the giggles between the sheets, even during the most passionate shagging.

But what if it was happening between the sheets of a book? Can eruptions of laughter be combined with erotic writing? Many would say no and would use examples of the great classics. There aren't any (intentional) laughs in Venus in Furs, Fanny Hill, The Story of O etc. Well no, but surely it's possible to poke a bit of fun into porn. Putting books aside for the moment look at porn videos(go on,I know you do!). Everyone in them is very serious while they're seriously at it but just imagine if you added some inappropriate music or sounds to those 10 minute epics on Xhamster, Red Tube and Xvideos. A slice of the 'Benny Hill' theme, for instance, would really cheer up those relentless group sex gropings. And pop a 'squeaky door' sound onto a furious pumping scene and it would be hard not to smirk.

So why can't literary fucking be funny? My book 'Felicity Does Fetish' tries to do this and I think it works (of course I would, wouldn't I?). After all most aspects of life from birth to death, including murder, adultery and war, have have been humorously treated by authors throughout the centuries so why not 'the act'? Well, I've given it my best and you can judge for yourself when it's published...

...did I say 'when'? I should really have said 'if' because, at the moment, it seems unlikely to be gracing Amazon or Waterstone's unless I self-publish. Keeping to the subject of humour trying to get published is definitely unfunny. I'm on a website that helps new authors and they list the names of literary agents. They also ask writers to review how these companies treated them. The responses are split into 'negative' and 'positive'. Well you can guess the negative ones but the positive reviews amused me. 99% of them congratulated the agents for turning them down - politely! However I'm not giving up until I get that orgasmic grunt of success. Back soon.

Love & kisses Sadie xxxx

Susan's Secret Night Out. Her friends wouldn't believe what she gets up to!

Fun Sexy Erotica - Susan's Secret Night Out

Well, well I'm soooo pleased. This is my first short story published on the deliciously sexy Oysters & Chocolate website run by the deliciously sexy Jordan and Samantha. If this gives you a taste for absolute naughtiness you must try some of the other decadent delicacies on O&C. I couldn't stop reading, but then I'm a greedy girl.

Love & kisses Sadie xxxx

Hi,

There’s been a lot of talk recently about preventing kids accessing porn on the Internet. A whole orgasm of serious ‘glasses and no make-up’ sexperts and several publicity seeking MP’s have been pressing to change the way Internet Providers offer safeguards.

Currently parents can decide to block porn sites if they wish and the providers give them ‘button’s’ to do this. The Nanny No-funs want porn sites to be automatically blocked by the Internet providing companies so that adults have to apply (and give information) so that they can be ‘given’ access by their provider.

Now this has undertones of Big Brother (and I mean the Orwell version, of course). I’m sure PC Plod when they’re not ignoring burglaries will be interested in these details. As will employers, news organizations and god know who else? Fortunately, providers like BT are currently saying “No”.

So fascist states apart, what’s my problem. Well, like most sensible people, I’m obviously against underage sex, pedophiles and real violence on the Internet. But is sex the worst thing we can let children watch? Just look at what parents let them see on the cinema and TV.

Why is a man sticking his cock in a woman bad, but a man sticking a knife into a woman ok? Now I know the latter is acting but today the simulation is so good. Gruesome killing, torture, blood, gore, corpses etc are on most multi-plexes most weeks and the kids love them. Most TV schedules are packed with cop shows, dull procedures spiced with bodies and serial killers. And what’s this fascination with forensics all about? Naked corpses on slabs, body parts in ‘butcher shop detail’ and more obscene deaths yet Silent Witness etc is extremely popular with sensible adults, most parents, who probably don’t mind their kids watching with them. My friends think ‘Dexter’ is great. He’s a twisted serial killer who cuts up other serial killers. “What are you thinking?” I say. “Oh it’s so funny” they say. Well I think it’s them that’s a bit funny!

But it’s not this perverse viewing that’s being regulated it’s the naughty stuff. It denigrates women they say. Well tell that to the millions of women around the world who get a healthy thrill watching porn with their partners. It’s the perfect little bit of titillation before the ‘act’, so to speak. Of course, anything that becomes an obsession is a bit worrying but like food and drink most people can regulate their porn consumption without too much trouble.

And unlike Hollywood and TV Porn is in no way age, race or body conscious. Apart from the plastic people and the muscle mary’s, there are old, fat, thin, black, Asian…the list of shape, size and colours goes on and on and I haven’t go round to genders yet.

So people have choice. If you feel the ‘adult professionals’ are being exploited watch amateur stuff. Everybody wants to be famous fuckers (for 15 minutes, if you’re lucky girls!)
Porn’s been around for millenniums and unlike the other P’s, power, priests, possessions and politics no one’s been massacred over it. So please regulators, leave porn alone and focus on the real dangers to our kids – snack manufacturers, booze companies and Justin Bieber!

Love & kisses Sadie (just about to have a peep at Xhamster) xxxx

Hot sunny sex on a rainy day

I'm sitting here staring out at the cold rain sweeping along the Brighton pavements and shoppers huddled like old women fighting the storm...

... but I'm dreaming of a hot sunny afternoon on the beach.

The woman passed me at this time every day on her walk up and down the beach. She idly paddled along the shore, a typical American mum, (but a bit of a Meg Ryan look-a-like) in her typical one piece bathing suit. I noticed her studying me as she passed by so I studied her too and liked what I saw. The first time our eyes met, she said "Hi" and carried on, I watched her go, she had a really nice bum. Next day she added 'How you doing?" The next time she stopped and said:

"Hot enough for you?"

"It's really a bit too hot" I replied. She was staring intently at my face, and my body. But that's what woman do so I didn't pay it much attention.

"You British?" she asked smiling

"I am, is it obvious?" I said to the eternal question when you open your mouth in the States"

"Cool, I just love your accent"

She came over and sat on the wooden fence that surrounded my beach house, just opposite to where I was relaxing on my lounger.

We talked of her trip to London, shopping, that sort of thing. And all the time her eyes were closely examining parts of my body. Then in that great straightforward way Americans have, she suddenly said:

"You're very brave wearing that bikini"

"Why?" I replied, a bit surprised at the sudden change in our chat.

"It's..." she raised her eyebrows, "it's...very revealing, you know?"

It was hot and I was feeling a little horny so I decided to make a pass. If it failed she'd go off in a huff but so what, I was going home in a couple of days.

'It probably is, but so's your one piece"

Now she was puzzled.

"How so?"

"Well Darling, your safe but tight fitting one piece is revealing the shape of your lovely tits, particular the nipples that are clearly pleased to see me. And your great ass is nicely defined and well, from how you're sitting, I can see the outlines of your pussy almost as if you were naked!"

"Oh" she said, a hand rather sweetly moving down to shield the plump rippled mound between her thighs.

I waited, smiling at her and cheekily licking my lips.

She got down from fence and stepped closer to me. She was smiling now.

"And do you like what you see?" she said teasingly.

"You bet" I whispered, reaching out and holding her hand.

"Well, what do you want to do about it honey?"

I smiled at her and licked my lips again, this time in an OTT way.

She laughed. "Well hun, I can see just about everything you've got...and I like it too"

I twisted around and opened my legs wide, so that my tiny bikini "V" barely covered my modesty. I can play the slut when I want too and I fancied corrupting this nice American mum. Meg's gaze was fixed on my flaps.

So I stood up, looked around and saw the beach was empty. Fuck, it was time to live and love a little more dangerously. So I unclipped my bra,undid the strings of my pouch and stood naked before Meg.

"Now you can see absolutely everything... so what are you going to do about it"

Meg looked around but when she was certain we were alone she relaxed a bit and got sassy again.

"I just love those white bits"

"Yea" I replied, "they clearly mark the fun places...I really love to see your white bits...wanna play?"

"Sure, but unlike you Brits, we're a bit old fashioned about these things so can we go inside?"

I turned and walked into my lounge area making sure I swung my ass provocatively.
Meg followed and stopped inside.

"Ok Sadie", she said, "let's do this but do you agree anything goes"

"Sure Darling, anything you want" I casually replied...oooops!

I didn't want to waste time so I locked my lips to her lips and my hands to her ass cheeks. Her hands wandered uncertainly up and down my back and finally decided on the white bits of my big bum. We kissed and groped for several minutes, then she broke away.

"Give me a minute honeybun"

"Sure Darling" I said, wondering why. Perhaps the excitement had affected her bladder or she wanted to 'freshen herself up' as our cousins say. I went looking for some wine so didn't notice the phone in her hand.

When she came back I decided it was time to get that one piece off.It had a tiny zip and was a bit of stretch over her hips but it soon hit the floor and she was naked too.

She had a much better colour than me which emphasized the tan lines. She'd obviously once worn much briefer swimwear as the white bits merely focused my attention on her very suckable nipples and that gorgeous V between her thigh. I turned her around, knelt down and kissed the white V across her ass crack, then I bit her and felt her jump.

"Oh God" she moaned. I spread her ass and my pink tongue sought out her pink bits.

"Oh my God" she cried out now and I wondered if I was going too fast. This could be her first time with a woman and I didn't want to come on like Vulvina, The Cannibal Queen of Lesbos! So I got up and sucked on her nipples and liked the salt off her tits like a good girl and Meg seemed to relax, and get turned on at the same time, so that was good.

She had a great sexy body created by the great US lifestyle, big healthy tits and a fantastic soft squeezable, bury-your-face-in ass. She was a tiny bit overweight (but that was sexy too) No doubt her cunt would be prime American meat too.

I was hoping to encourage her to start a feeding frenzy on me but she seemed content to let me make the pace. Ok, that could be fun too so it was time to get her lengthways.

I led her to the couch and pushed her back onto it. Then I buried my head between her thighs. Which was why I didn't hear Tom come in!

'Hi Honey"

"Hi Babe"

They had loud voices and that cut in over my sucking sounds. It was my turn to be shocked. I got up and found myself facing a man in shorts with a large camera case over his shoulder.

"Hi, Sadie, this is my husband Tom"

"What the fuck?" I said, losing my cool. But a woman caught mid-muff diving and now standing naked has lost all her authority.

"Look hun" said Meg, suddenly firm, and although also naked,rather in control,"we agreed anything goes, so I'm happy to do any fucking thing you have in mind...as long as Tom watches and, oh yes, films it, you don't mind do you?"

"Well, I..I.." I stammered, so goodbye Ms Cool Brit.

Meg came up and put an arm around me. Two naked woman having a conversation on the sofa whilst Tom set up his movie camera.

"Tom and I have a kind of open marriage if you know what I mean? I like a lot of things outside of, you know, husband/wife stuff. So we've done swingers parties, my girlfriends and me have had a couple of those big black guys in hotel rooms, you know? But although the girls and I have played around some I've never been with a real, you know, lesbian"

I was about to say "Excuse me, I'm not a lesbian I'm bi-sexual" but in this company and in my English accent it would have just sounded silly.

"Ok babe, I'm ready" said Tom.

And I saw I was looking at the critical eye of a Samsung something or other. Tom's words stirred Meg into action and she suddenly found my nipples fascinating.

"Suck on them baby" directed Tom.

Meg did as obeyed. Then Tom got closer and his ideas took off.

He filmed us in position 69. With Meg feasting on my asshole and me working away somewhere below her.

"Don't worry, Tom ensures your face won't be too obvious" Meg gasped reassuringly.

"Stick your tongue deep in her hole" Tom advised, then he devised a new scenario.

So I found my face now squashed under Meg's big soft butt and too think that's what first attracted me to her!

"Rub your cunt into her face, stop her breathing", Tom was getting excited. But Meg was a kinder person and for a second her ass cheeks moved off my face and I turned to breathe in deeply. Tom was very excited, a fact that was confirmed by the fat cock in his hand being vigorously agitated so I....

...I've stopped dreaming in my Brighton cafe and again focused on damp streets rather than damp sheets. I'm looking at my computer screen.

Gotta finish my story..

Love & Kisses Sadie xxx

Well hello,

I've noticed that people accessing this blog are now met by this stern warning:Some readers of this blog have contacted Google because they believe that this blog's content is objectionable They are then invited to press ahead fearlessly or run away screaming.

Cripes! Moi-objectionable? Louche perhaps, salacious maybe, a touch up the naughty side of the street you might say but something people might object to, like spitting in the street, Keira Knightley or beards? No that's just too too tearmaking!

So before I retire to sob quietly in my bedroom here's something I wrote for a fan site a year or so ago. It's about a dream, a well known and highly renowned singer/author/film director and lot's of healthy activity. What could possibly be objectionable about that?

Madonna’s Nude Massage by Sadie Dark

Last night I dreamed that I gave Madonna a massage. I work in a famous health and beauty salon in Knightsbridge. I've been there for two years and am one of their most experienced masseuse. I have famous clients and although I am very professional I have to admit that the sight of their naked bodies gives me a thrill, particularly the women.

I hear her before I see her. Her accent cuts through the posh English atmosphere.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm sorry Madam…"

Now it's the voice of the manager,

"… but Claire has been involved a car accident on her way to work"

She's persistent: "But I always have Claire, shit! why wasn't I told?"

I hear the manager's voice calm and reassuring.

"It happened this morning, we couldn't reach your mobile and your PA said you had already left"

"Shit - now what am I going to do?"

I peek out of my room. She's standing there facing the manager. Her back is turned to me but I catch my breath.

Her hair, worn long, gleams as it falls down past her shoulders, my eyes move down, past her tight silk shirt to her bum, perfectly displayed in tight satin combat pants. Her hands rest aggressively on her hips and as she shifts the weight her bum cheeks move sensually beneath the thin fabric.

The manager catches sight of me and says something quietly. The beautiful hair starts to turn and one of the most famous faces in the world looks angrily in my direction.

The manager leads her over talking in her reassuring way.

"Sadie is one of London's leading masseurs. I'm sure you'll find her every bit as expert as Claire"

I'm looking nervous but I expect she's used to that in all the people she meets for the first time.

She's looking unimpressed. But the manager continues, delivering what she considers will be the most persuasive argument.

"Sadie has many other famous clients: Kate...Naomi...Gwyneth…and Britney books her solid whenever she's in town"

The beautiful eyes soften. She looks at her watch. Her luscious lips part into a hint of a smile. She looks at me, stares into my eyes, sees something she likes and then speaks:

"Ok, lets go"

She brushes past me into my small treatment room and I close the door She walks over to the table and leans provocatively against it.

Her lips are moist and gleaming. She folds her arms under her tits and her nipples press through her silk shirt. Her tight pants enhance her long legs and as she moves the fabric is caught suggestively in the V of her crotch. She speaks, in a rather teasing manner:

"OK Sadie, Claire knows what I like, how about you?”

"I have Claire's notes" I reply seriously. She smiles and says softly:

"OK let's begin"

I reach for a towel and indicate the dressing room. But she just laughs.

"I haven't got fucking time for all that"

With that she unbuttons her shirt and slips it off. She's wearing a plain white bra, simple but perfect when set against her toned, tanned flesh. She reaches behind her and the bra falls away. Her tits are stunning, still firm with big sexy nipples that are already aroused.

I'm breathless, desperately trying to say calm and professional. Of course, I've seen her naked, everybody has, in books, magazines and movies. But this is so different, she's just inches from me, I could almost reach out and touch her.

And, lets face it, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

She's very matter of fact. She slips off her trainers and unbuckles her belt. Then she slides the pants off. She straightens up to put the pants over a chair and gives me a view of her white thong. I can't take my eyes off the V shape, pure white against her tanned skin and filled out with her plump mound. For a second, I forget where I am and get that wonderful feeling between my thighs.

I come to and she's staring at me. She's giving me a quizzical smile that I'm sure many favoured men have witnessed - and maybe a few women.

But then she reaches down and the thong is off. She's almost completely shaved with just a thin 'landing strip' of pubic hair. She poses for a minute, her eyes are locked on mine and her lips still form that teasing smile. Then she sits up on the table, swings her legs over and lies back.

Completely naked, relaxed and waiting for me to give her a full body massage.

I have my own special blend of oil. I walk behind her and ask her to sit up. She slips a band over her hair and I begin to massage her shoulders. I pour the oil in my hands and work at the muscles. I'm good and within minutes she's sighing gently.

I take my time but soon I've finished her neck, shoulders and arms. She lies back and I carefully start on her face. I know every place to apply pressure and she's now totally relaxed. But my finger brushes her full lips, and they part, wet and succulent, I leave my finger there for less than a second, her eyes open and she's gazing intently at me. She smiles and then relaxes again and quietly speaks:

"I think you could be better than Claire"

"Thank you" I say feeling flustered. I need more oil so I go over to my case. As I bend to open it I hear a little giggle. Her voice sings out teasingly:

"Hey Sadie, you're a bit of a dark horse. You look so fucking proper in that fucking nurses' outfit"

I stand up and turn, looking puzzled. She's leaning over and smirking at me.

"But underneath that starchy outfit I can spy a naughty little thong...tell me your secrets Sadie" and she giggles again.

That bloody uniform, we're always complaining that you can see through it but the management (mostly male) don't care.

But then I look at her and see that she's flirting with me and, suddenly, I feel sexy. My tarty thongs have been my secret, my rebellion against the stiff atmosphere of the salon, and now I'm sharing it with...her.

I take more oil into my hands and cup her right tit. The nipple is unashamedly erect but, as I gently massage the taut skin around her pinky-brown circles, it seems to swell even more. The oil slowly dribbles down its length and I catch it between my finger and thumb and slide the oil off. As I gently pull on her nipple and release it I hear her sigh.

Now both her breasts glisten with oil. My hands mould them and pinch them and my thumbs circle the tips of her nipples.

Oil trickles between her tits and runs down over her belly. I lean across to catch it and my sleeve rubs against her skin. Her eyes jerk open.

"What the fuck was that? I'm getting really relaxed and then I feel that shit against my skin"

"I'm sorry" I say, trying unsuccessfully to roll my sleeve up.

She glares at me and snarls.

"I didn't pay to be rubbed down with fucking cheap cloth...take it off"

"Sorry?"

"Take the fucking thing off or I'm out of here"

I pause, think, then - what the hell? Just the slide of a zip and then the whole boring uniform slides to the floor. I have quite small tits so I don't wear a bra.

So, except for a pale pink thong with a little diamond above my arse crack I'm now standing there - naked in front of Madonna.

She looks me up and down and blows me an ironic kiss. Then giggling she turns over on the table so I can do her back.

I pour the oil into the little dip just above the rise of her buttocks. I smooth it over her back and work on the muscles. As I put my weight into digging deep into the tissue I lean across her and my nipples brush against her back. This happen several times, she wriggles with pleasure and the sensations in my nerve-endings almost cause me to lose concentration.

Now I'm covered in oil too - and sweat. Is it my strenuous actions or the proximity of my nude idol? I'm not sure but what happen next really gets me glowing.

I trickle oil into the crack of her arse. I watch her cheeks move sensually as the warm liquid reaches, first, her anus then the outer lips of her cunt. With the flat of my hand I massage first her right cheek then her left one. Her bum is firm and toned. The skin is beautifully elastic and my fingers dig into the soft rubbery flesh. I now manipulate each cheek and as they part I glimpse her tight pinky-brown arsehole.

The intimacy of this moment shocks me. This is a sight reserved for lovers and now it's mine. I feel moistness between my thighs, my thong feels tight, forcing apart the swelling lips of my cunt.

In the heat of this moment I forget what I'm supposed to be doing. My finger drenched in aromatic oil investigates the opening of her anus and within seconds is sucked in. I pump the finger slowly as the tight walls try to grip it.

She reacts, her buttocks clench, but then as my finger sinks deeper she relaxes and gives a long low moan. Lubricated with oil, I slip a second finger into her greedy arsehole and rhythmically fuck her.

Her cunt lips gleam. It could be oil but I'm sure it's juice. I can't believe it, little old me with my small tits, big bum and bandy legs - and I'm stimulating the sexiest woman on earth.

She moans again and her thighs part. Her cunt is totally beautifully and I'm drawn to it. I trace the edge of her lips with my thumb until I find the hood and reveal her clit. It rises to my touch as my thumb ever so gently massages it. I lean closer and closer and replace the sensation of my thumb with the touch of my tongue. My tongue bathes in her moist lusciousness, it finds her clit and teases it.

Her movements once languorous become more violent. She gasps and her buttocks squirm with pleasure. Then she turns over, her legs wide, her cunt thrown open to me. I move round to greedily gorge myself.

And then her hand moves upwards.

I feel it blunder up my oily legs, grab at my bum, then find its target between my legs. A rude finger forces my thong aside and slips up into my juicy cunt.

The sensation of pleasure forces me upright. I feel like I'm pivoting on her searching finger. But then she speaks huskily:

"Let's do 69, lets both have a fucking good time, 69 eh babe?"

I slip off my thong, walk around to the top of the table and climb on. Her gleaming brown body lies before me and it's all mine to enjoy. I kneel above her face and then lean forward towards her splayed legs.

As I go to bury myself in her cunt I sink down and my arse rests on her face. She grabs my cheeks and pulls them apart and her tongue tickles that place of ecstasy between my arsehole and my cunt. My tongue slips into her and her tongue slips up into me. Our oiled bodies move together then stretch, then tighten, while our moans intermingle as we lose ourselves in lust. And then the door opens.

Naked and exposed, we both look up. The door opens more and Cameron Diaz walks into the room. Dressed in a towelling robe, she stops and coolly surveys us. She smiles, lets her robe drop to the floor and steps towards the table…

...but that's another dream!

Sadie Dark ©

There, just a bit of fun. Fortunately Google take a very adult view to all this and cheers for them.

Back soon.

Love & Kisses Sadie xxxxx

I'm really back this time - promise

Hi,

Ok,I know, I've been threatening to start this blog again for months/years. But now, after I've got over a spot of illness (boring) I'm back in rude health. Well rude anyway, as usual - but that's the way you like it.

Love & Kisses Sadie xxxx

Between the sheets

I know the sheets I'm usually talking about are linen (if I'm lucky) or more likely from the IKEA sale. But the action this time is literary rather than lusty and so the sheets are paper. Yes, I'm on the last chapter of my book - at last...amazing...never thought she'd finish it..are those flying porkers etc etc. But it's true, I'm almost done. It has taken a long time that's for sure. But there's been those months when I was too busy earning a living or been ill or truthfully just given up.

There's always that feeling that writing a book is a bit of a fantasy (and everyone's got a half finished one in a drawer) But as I sit here all those chapters and all those "sheets" are on my Mac. Morgan (my co-writer) has been equally caught up doing other stuff but now he's a little less busy flogging crap on TV (that's advertisingese for out of a job) he can apply his humorous hand to our opus.

Now we need an agent. It's hard to know who'd be interested in promoting a no holds barred romp about the world of S&M. Is there anyone out there who could help? Otherwise we'll just trawl the interet for the right literary shark (in the nicest possible way of course)

I'm actually in France at the moment (at my friends). I really haven't been well recently and so my life has been full of trauma but free of sexual partners - boring!

I think it's time to get out into our late summer and make some hay! Or plough some bushy meadows! Or linger in lady gardens! See even my sexy metaphors are literary now!

Love & Kisses

Sadiexxxx

SADIE'S BACK

OK so I've been a bit absent, OK so it's been a year and three months.Be honest has anything happened to you over the last 15 recession hit, war-torn, disaster- full months that has been worth publishing on a blog. Well has it? - not to me anyway! Still here I am ready for the off - so a hell of a hello to you all!

Love & Kisses Sadie xxxx

Here's to a little 20tenderness.

Well the statuary six months has passed since my last posting and I'm sure sorry seems the hardest word for my blog friends to understand.

So let me get it out of the way: Brighton, sun, rain, sex, no-sex, France, rain, friend ill so Sadie's been a nurse* since September, not much book writing, family troubles, not much hot bed action, not much news - thank you and fuck off 2009!

* I can't believe many of my readers wouldn't have paused for a second or two at the nurse reference, dirty boys and girls. But yes, whilst I administered to my patient I naturally wore the standard nurse's uniform: a low cut,bursting-out blue top with watch hanging from my tit, a tiny frilly apron and a blue miniskirt. As I bent over to remove the chamber pot everyone in the room was rewarded with a view of my tiny white knickers and many a injection was mistakingly placed into a patient's arse. Oooooooh matron!

So what does the new year mean to me? Easy, I'VE GOT TO FINISH MY FUCKING BOOK!!!!!!

I'm actually almost at the end. I've been re-doing bits and that's held me up. Morgan's been phenominally busy and we haven't had much chance to meet up and work. The last chapters are supposed to describe "The fuck of the century". The century is only nine years old so this isn't a great overclaim but it is naturally taking some effort to keep out these pages out of the "Bad Sex Literary awards".

Speaking of writing and sex I recently read a piece in the Sunday Times that said lesbianism was getting more open. Well the writer has obviously never been to some Brighton pubs and clubs on a Saturday night. Talk about open - jean flies are gaping wide as are the pink lady curtains and naughty fingers are playing a girl's favourite game. But back to the article, it was suggesting that more famous lady lovers were making their preferences public. This included Alison Goldfrapp, Mary Portas, Jeanette Winterson and Susie Orbach.

Well Dear, we've all known about them for ages and there are several more famous actresses, writers and singers who haven't been quite as up front about their girly front bottom fun. I could name them but Blogger might disappear under the libel actions and, anyway, it's supposed to the time for good cheer to all men (and women).

So, apart fom my resolution to write a more regular blogs AND FINISH MY BOOK it's now time to wish you all a fantastic, fun-filled, fuck-filled New Year.

Love & Kisses Sadie

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

Did I wish you all a Merry Christmas? Thought not - sorry.

Anyway 'Merry' is just about the most inappropriate word to describe anything at the moment. "Ho-Ho-Ho" isn't any better, it's probably only bankers who can manage this as they open their bonus envelope or maybe a stutterer trying to say "horrid"

No, like most of you I expect Xmas 2008 seemed a bit of a XXXXmas to me. However it's now 2009 and I'm determined to be optimistic.

We're hoping to finish the book. It's on its third revise but who knows. People (not publishers sadly) but Brighton litocracy have been kind about the bits we've let them read and a little shocked - so that's promising.

The weather's been brilliant. Icy cold but with an icy blue sky, perfect weather for walking the dog (a friend's). And stalking some pussy!

Sorry to lower the tone. But then that's what you're all hoping I'll do - and I never let you down. I'm still on my own, not even a card from my ex. So what does a modern single Brighton woman in possession of a fairly decent arse do?

Well she could do worse than drop into a cafe along Brighton's Prom, I'm not saying which to prevent any loonies showing up (not that I'm suggesting loonies read my blog) but it's better to be careful. In amongst the vanilla and gay male couples there are always a couple of women on their own reading magazines and lingering over a cup of coffee.

Because this cafe has become infamous on the scene as a bit of a girlie's gaffe, a dyke's diner or a babe's bistro. There's a couple of pubs that have the same 'pick-up' personality but they've always been a bit butch for me.

So I popped in, and guess what? Less than two hours later an attractive Swede was popping her tongue down my throat in a nearly hotel room. It isn't always like this, of course, sometimes you just don't fancy anyone or you just have a chat and leave alone. But it was first time lucky for me, Eva was an early Christmas present and she unwrapped beautifully.

We chatted, then flirted, then Eva, who was visiting friends in Sussex, suggested a proper drink at her hotel but I was hoping for a pink lady instead. I experienced that amazing excitement as we left the lift and she walked ahead of me. I was imagining her naked, my hands on her sexy bum and my lips nibbling her big tits - Eva was healthily built.

Eva liked foreplay. So she kept us in our underwear for some time kissing and fumbling. I find this cool for a time but I'm impatient to heat things up a bit. Finally Eva's knickers came off and I tasted Swede for the first time. We both knew that this wasn't the beginning of a relationship, it was a one-afternoon affair at most. So we didn't waste time on love we went straight to the chase. The object was to give each other as much pleasure as womanly possible.

Eva liked biting and being bitten - I could barely sit down for days afterwards. It was brilliant, very hot fucking on a cold December day. Later, we showered together, put on each other's knickers, and finally had that drink in the hotel bar. Then it was goodbye Eva.

So now once or twice a week I drop in for a coffee at the 'Come on' cafe. 2008 ended on a naughty note and lets hope I get on fine in 2009.

I also wish you get everything you're looking for in the New Year.

Love and kisses Sadie xxxxx

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

Lesbian lunches and a spanking New Year

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Sore feelings in my heart and bum

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Rude riding breeches and jodhpur japes

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Oh dear, I’m about to use The F-word several times.

Just recently my life has been full of F-words. Ok, you’re saying, so has mine, fucking work, fucking weather, fucking government, fucking world, fuck, fuck, f-u-c-k, FUCK!

But although my life includes that particular word – in its sense as a verb I’m delighted to say, it also includes several other words beginning with F.

F-irst of all, my I thank the delectable Vamp for including my blog in the world famous but extremely exclusive Jane’s Guide. Vamp, who I’ve never met but I’m sure is a sensual beauty who combines utter sophistication and a rare sense of humour with formidable but exquisite breasts, a pert, sculpted arse, a belly to die for and thighs that could crush a man or woman’s innocent objections. Well, the voluptuous Vamp was extremely nice about my stuff, and this is what she wrote:

Original & Quality
Sadie Dark Places
Sadie is a woman who writes erotic fiction in the UK. She has had a blog since about 2004, so there is a history here. I think I would sum up what you'll find here as smart, rude, and raw. I think that writers always like to talk about the writing process, and Sadie is no exception. If you can identify with the angst of trying to sort out how to write your novel, you'll enjoy Sadie's comments about the process. If that isn't your thing, you'll still be interested in her naughty stories. – Vamp

F-ank you V (so many lovely things begin with V) if only I could find your email on your fucking site I could actually thank you personally.

Ok, next F-word…France.

For that is where I am. Summering, (if that is the right as its pissing down as I write) in this glorious country. After working through winter and enjoying the largesse of my delicious Ms Hastings I’d saved enough for a few months off in France. So here I am, in my rather unstylish and unseasonable T-shirt and knickers sitting on my friend’s verandah writing my book and this blog…and its fucking freezing.

Next F-word…Fetish.

Yea, that’s the one I’m really getting to grips with. As I write I need more information, so I get onto Google and the more I learn the more I want to experience – so I do. I must admit that on my own and without my horny Ms Hastings I’m getting soooooooooooo randy. She's visited me for a couple of wicked weekends, but mostly it's just me and my imagination. I had a weekend in Paris with a couple of friends who, sweetly tried to alleviate my randiness in the sweaty environment of a sauna on girls only night. We sat around in towels, swigging chardonnay, then the towels fell off and I found myself trapped with two turned-on teenagers, all tanned and wet and shiny like slippery seals. One in front, one behind and she was totally focussed on my behind – wow, fuck, mmmm, who could imagine an intimate examination being soooooo intensely in-tim-ate? Weeeeee-owwwww-oohhhhhhh! Fantastically fabulously fun – but not strictly fetish, so ok, here’s the tight riding breeches bit.

Yea, jodhpurs,(oooh, just wait for the Google references, it could just beat Penny Smith’s arse). I’m talking tight fitting, bum caressing, crotch dividing, thigh defining, stretch fitting breeches.

And this is the best bit, their owner looked a bit like Madonna. Just a bit but enough for me who’d lusted over the Lady’s jodhpur-clad limbs in her amazing Wembley show,

And here was her looky-likey in a local French riding school. I had gone to take my mind off the hassle of hack-writing with a bit of hacking. The school horses were ok, a bit lazy but fine for people like me who hadn’t ridden since schooldays. I’d been out on a hack and was nursing my strained thighs and sore bum cheeks in a soft chair whilst enjoying a Coke Lite when Madame Madge swayed into view.

Her derriere was exquisite. A bit boy-like but all the better for it. Nice firm cheeks and a delicious crack caught in the fit of her second-skin like breeches. She passed me once, then back again, then the bum paused as she talked to some other horsey type then it was off again. Her crack tightened then relaxed in a beautiful pattern of pervy joy. God, I fancied that fucking French arse…and its owner.

She was obviously an owner as she carried water and food backwards and forwards to the private livery stables. At one point she caught me staring, I waited, I’m not a great believer in gaydar but she had a sexy, mannish manner and I was sure she might fancy a little female fun – there’s another F-word for you.

But nothing happened. If I was making this story up, I’d have approached her, seduced her, led her into a vacant stable, kissed her whilst exploring her blessed bum and then bent her over a convenient hay bale and thrashed her wriggling bottom with a springy schooling whip.

But this was real life and sadly, in this reality, people smile at each other and then part forever. But now Madame Madge was back and she was taking a Coke Lite from the school’s fridge. I smiled at her…and waited…and waited…and then she smiled back.

‘Hot isn’t it” I said, stupidly in English, because I was in France.

She gave me a cool "Madonna' like smile. “Yez..it izzz” she replied and I felt a tingle between my thighs that wasn’t due to bouncing about in a solid saddle.

She came over and stood by me. Her English was perfect and so attractively delivered. We talked about horses and my holidays and her house (but not any husband) and, all the time, I couldn’t ignore her crotch that was at my eye level, a hint of cameltoe that was etched in the tight fabric and constantly hinted at her lush femininity.

She then sat down and stared into my eyes. She’d have had to have been blind not have noticed me drooling after her. She checked out my tits, assessed my ass as I went to the loo and put her hand on my thighs to emphasise a point about the cost of horse management in France.

She had a boyish figure as I’ve mentioned, small tits, an enviably slim waist, neat cunt ( the breeches fitted that well) and that arse. Oh God, God pleaaaaaassssse make her fancy me.

Next F-word/s…Francophile Fucking.

Jodhpur fetish aficionados will be disappointed. I didn’t get my hands on that beautiful lycra enhanced butt then and there. I watched it sway off into the dusk…but I had been invited to her house next day to see her ‘orses and also, I hoped, a bit of ‘orseplay.

I drove over in my friend’s little French car. Would she strip me and saddle me with a bit between my teeth and her whip tantalising my tushy? Would I have to kiss her shiny leather boots as she stood nude and aroused above me? Would I be a pony girl, naked and harnessed to her cart with a long horse’s tail shoved up my arsehole? God, what a pervy little princess I’ve become since I started my book!

But, I was in a Zara dress and my best underwear (this was France after all) and when she opened the door she was in a simple white shirt and and beautifully cut cargo pants. So sorry breeches buffs, but welcome knickers and female fucking fans.

It was raining so viewing the horses was out but she offered me tea or wine. Frankly, all I wanted was her whining with lust but I asked for Earl Grey (as French tea is shit).

We sat on the sofa and talked, then we held hands, and then we kissed…and kissed and then her hand was slipping up my skirt.

She lifted my skirt away to reveal my pants. Was this the first hurdle? What if they'd been pastel Primark or mingy M&S? Would she have kicked my ass out of the door? However, cleverly I was in my best cream Coco de Mer’s and these seemed to pass her strict French standards. Her hand slipped around my mound and squeezed and now it was time for the next F-word…fireworks.

I slipped her shirt off, the tits were small but the nipples were thrusting out, unashamedly signalling that Madame Madge was hot for it. Down came the pants to reveal an exquisite pair of grey silk knickers, I just stared in admiration – they were that sexy!

My dress was off and her hand was down my Coco's. She handled me as firmly as she would have treated her horse and I instantly responded. Her eyes were fixed on mine loving my involuntary gasps and moans. Her fingers expertly felt out my most sensitive spots and I began to lose control. France 1, England 0.

In an instant I grabbed those silky grey bum cheeks. She felt brilliant, I just loved the sensuous cling of her knickers. My fingers buried themselves into her crack. All that lusting yesterday and now I could do anything with her. We kissed and kissed and she worked my cunt lips. I pulled her pants down, sucked my finger and slyly slipped it up her cul.

She gasped. Perfidious Albion had caught her unawares and stormed her from behind. She relaxed and my finger slipped in. She gasped again and I smirked at her. She looked furiously at me then smiled and I felt her little hole tighten sensuously around my delving digit. France 1, England 1

Then, we were both naked and aroused and we had all afternoon. I told her about my jodphur fantasies and she laughed and promised me that next time she’d dress to please me. And we fucked and sucked and fucked and…

And that was several weeks ago and I haven’t had the jodphur japes yet, she’s always busy and I’m writing my books and well, women have one night (afternoon) stands too.

I still get slippery thinking about Madame Madge and I’m in France for a few more weeks so maybe I’ll get to whip that tight little derriere.

And that’s my last F-word…fantasies.

Enjoy yours and I’ll be back soon. Well not quite my last…

Farewell. Love and kisses Sadie xxxx

A woman’s bits and pieces.

Hi, remember me, woman from Brighton, used to write a blog called Sadie Dark Places, bit of a potty mouth? No, you’ve forgotten because it’s months since I filed anything. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

So what can I tell you? Well, I’m ok, Brighton in the sun and rain is ok, Ms Hastings is ok, Pretty Polly the pantyhose perv is ok, Morgan, (the co-writer of my book) is ok. All my Brighton mates, Ms Rude, Dolce & Gabbana etc etc are ok. But my writing is not fucking ok! It’s just that that stimulating my creative juices is getting harder however vigorously I finger my Mac. All the effort to finish my book is diverting me from my blog.

So what can I tell you? Well how about some Lesbian Mud Wrestling? Yea, fuck the scene in my lovely city, fuck the crisis of New Labour, here’s some new labia smeared in sticky substances. And it all took place at The Candy Bar in Brighton.

Ms Hastings and I naturally couldn’t keep away after reading about it on that brilliant andv essential site Realbrighton.com (from whom I’ve borrowed the pics, hope they don’t mind). The Candy Bar isn’t our usual haunt as we both feel a bit old when we’re amongst the baby babes who pack the place and it’s a tad butch with short hair and boy’s boxer shorts peering over baggy jeans.

However, trying not to look too much like the Fat Slags from Viz, we entered the club and were immediately hit by feminine pheromes. A bunch of leering lezs were cheering on a couple of girls in shorts and knickers who were actually wrestling in mud. It was everyman’s dream but that night only us ladies were realising it.

The participants in their pants were rather jolly, like those healthy girls at school who always volunteered for things. It was so different from my last few bouts of this popular sport. That was in Amsterdam on a business trip in my days as a married marketer. We were taking time off from an immensely dull conference and so took some clients to a club. Here the wrestlers were Pamela Stephenson look-alikes and the audience were predominately pissed men. At the time I thought I was firmly hetero, but I can remember being quite diverted by the dirty girls. Those wet thongs disappearing up toned bums were strangely attractive and I think I rather enjoyed it more than I’d expected.

It was very different at The Candy Bar and, I must admit, just a bit embarrassing – too much like girls desperately wanting to be macho. It’s not a good look.

So what else? Well, with the title of this piece in mind here’s something in the ‘only in America’ category that I spotted on the web:

I quote…

…The Big Coloring Book of Vaginas
30 pages of illustrated vaginas with games such as word search, connected the dots, and an "all about my vagina" section

Psst... can i tell you a secret?
(Every woman has one!)

Vaginas are a fingerprint. Captured in this book along with fun puzzles and games is the uniqueness of the vagina beautifully illustrated. From the compact smooth vagina to a coiffed vagina with full lips. Some are pierced, some are tattooed, some are soft spoken and some are in your face! Illustrate these beautiful vaginas with your imagination and show your love for what makes your world go round!

The Big Book of Vaginas
ISBN:
978-1-4243-4035-4
Price: $10.95

So, goodbye from now from my soft spoken vagina. I’ll try to be back a bit sooner.

Love & Kisses Sadie