Monday, August 20, 2007

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. “ 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