A Blog from Sara

After begging, flattery and above all emotional blackmail I've persuaded Sara to write a blog for me. And just for the record, emotional blackmail will get you everywhere. Remember that.

What can I say? I don’t usually do requests, but I’ll make an exception just this once.

I’m sure you’ve all heard the story of the AWOL handcuff keys. Well, they came into school today, still on her watch strap. She was also wearing her trademark “ooh-I-do-love-the-power” smile and her “Go-on-I-dare-you-to-try” eyebrow. Both of which, I can safely say, are extremely distracting. I suppose revenge is still tasting sweet after the backless top episodes.

Anyway, the whole idea of distractions leads me on to Friday night, or more specifically, being at hers, and the recurring flashbacks that still refuse to leave me alone.

One of my favourites sounds a little dubious without an explanation. But this is it in a nutshell. To set the scene, my girlfriend is one of those fantastically spontaneous people who, whilst playing with your hair and brushing your lips with her fingertips, asks “What are you thinking?”

Now, I’m no liar. Let’s get that straight. (Excuse the pun) But if I'm honest the answer I gave was a little short of the truth. So I thought I’d set the record straight and let you know EXACTLY what I was thinking…

“I’m thinking about the heat of your thighs around mine. The touch of your skilful fingers on my waist and your soft lips on my neck. I’m thinking about how the goosebumps trickle down my spine when your tongue brushes against my top lip, and how you bite me and taunt me until my mouth is begging for yours. I’m thinking about how your hands slip under my clothes, making my lips part and my legs shake. I'm thinking about how much I love you in control, how my heart races when you straddle me and pin my arms to the bed. I’m thinking about how I want you to kiss me so hard I can barely breathe, then let your velvet tongue glide across the top of my jeans and draw patterns on my stomach.”

Just thought I’d clarify that. My conscience was getting twitchy.

Moving on. Something quite disturbing happened today. Rather than be crucified by chavs at the top of the hill, I met her near where the buses pull up. I kiss her good bye just as the first wave of schoolkid-laden buses starts driving past. Someone bangs on a bus window. We turn around. Just in time to see some sexually frustrated teenage boy hanging off his seat and licking his teeth in what can only be described as one of the most unappealing ways you can possibly imagine. Seems I was wrong. It can get a whole lot worse than death-by-chav.