Saturday, October 1, 2011

Why I love being a saucy Brit

By Jacqueline Applebee (Guest Blogger)

Stiff upper lips aren’t the only things getting hard.

I am a happy Black British woman. I’ve lived in London all my life. London is a buzzing, multicultural city, with something happening all the time. There are numerous alternatives scenes where you can lose yourself for an evening or a lifetime. Are you into latex and corsetry? There’s an official walking tour of rubber fetish shops that you can do in Islington. Into erotic stories and cupcakes? There’s a series of events that run all year long in fashionable Hoxton. There are also two fetish markets, sex parties galore, and lots, lots more.

London is a global city. I can hear accents from around the world on a daily basis, however listening to regional accents from around the U.K is still a rarity. It is something that makes me tingle from ear to clit in a flash. I love to hear my language spoken with a lilt; the musical tones and cadence that makes me incline my head to hear just a little more. I’ve let people with West-Country accents press me up against walls, have their naughty way with me as long as they don’t stop crooning in my ear. I become breathless when someone with a clipped British accent speaks to me. And if they talk dirty, well that’s even better. As you can see, I have a weakness for aural sex…

The U.K is full of friendly and incredibly sexy people who contrary to popular belief are not reserved at all. The drop-dead gorgeous women in Newcastle, who will happily wear micro-minis and six-inch heels in the middle of a blizzard always make me gaze in awe of their beauty and hardiness. Sun-kissed men who go surfing on the Cornish coast, all lean and athletic make me lose my senses. There’s nothing like a dripping wet man with all his features outlined in skin-tight wetsuits to make me glad to be here.

I still live in London, and I have set many of my stories in this bustling city. The following extract is from “Old London Town”, which appeared in Where the Girls Are, published by Cleis Press.


The next time I pointed my arm, it was to the left, where Tower Bridge lay, spanning the wide Thames. This was what I thought of, whenever I thought of London. Sure it was famous, and well known, but there was something so grand and magnificent about it too, that my unease faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

I kept hold of Mae's hand as we stepped onto the bridge. Her touch made me tingle; little sparks that grew stronger over time, until I fairly crackled with energy. I was so excited; I seemed to have bypassed the lovesick teenage stage, and had gone straight to happy little girl mode.

"This was built in 1894. It's old, but not really that old," Mae stated, and then she made a silly face. I hit her playfully as we both giggled like children.

Mae looked up, straining her neck as she took in the mighty stone towers that stretched above us. I gazed at the real attraction, and then swept a finger over her exposed throat, over the dark delicate flesh, so kissable, and so beautiful. All my apprehension evaporated as I stroked her. She stilled beneath my touch, and then turned slowly to me with a smile that made my eyes water. She moved closer, rubbed her nose against mine, and then captured my mouth in a gentle kiss. I could taste the spices from our meal, the sweet passion-fruit juice that she had gulped down, but most of all, I could taste her. Mae was earthy, salty, and so very delicious. I wanted to feast on her. How could she be here for just a few days! Hundreds of tourists swarmed about us as we stood on the bridge kissing. Cars hooted at us, a few people whistled, but I didn't care; this was my town, and this was my home. My thoughts were interrupted when Mae slid a cool hand beneath my T-shirt; she found my bare breasts beneath the thin fabric, and she brushed a fingertip across an over-excited nipple. I quaked where I stood; I had to get this woman home.

I looked around us, at the position where we stood, precisely in the middle of the bridge. I could spot the line that separated one half of the edifice from the other, the place where each side of the bridge would open and raise, whenever a tall ship would sail through. I felt as if we were in the centre of the universe; that all the people, and all the planets circled us in a full cosmic sweep.

"I'm staying in a hostel in Greenwich," Mae whispered into my ear. "Will you come back with me?" I said nothing in return, just held her hand tighter, and pulled her across the busy road.

We caught a river boat down the Thames, and we sat in the shade at the back of the vessel as it sped through the water. Mae massaged my sensitive hands, stroking once and then twice whenever she hit a particularly promising spot. I gasped and mouthed soundless groans into the air as she stimulated me. My clitoris begged for attention, my nipples needed to be sucked, and I wanted to kiss every inch of Mae’s body.

"Hungry, aren't you," she drawled with a suddenly strong accent. "I think I can take the edge off your appetite before we get home." Mae made a reach for the hem of my skirt, and I suddenly froze, aware of where we were. "Everyone's up top, snapping photos. We're all alone down here," she continued, and before the words were even out of her mouth, she lifted the hem of my frayed denim skirt. I looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was about, but for some strange reason, my vision suddenly blurred. Two of Mae's fingers pressed against the outside of my knickers; she ran them up and down the elastic on each side, murmuring happily, and smiling like the sun whenever I trembled in her grasp. I heard footsteps coming down the staircase that led to the lower deck of the boat, and I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let me. Public sex always seems like a good idea, until you actually attempt it; I didn't want to perform for a crowd. This country girl was starting to make me look bad. The footsteps I'd previously heard halted, and then retreated back to the upper level. I sighed with relief, and then almost screamed as Mae pinched my clit. Her fingers slipped on my juices, but she still tugged on me, grinning a wide country girl grin as I bucked and shook.

"What do you want, Lesley?" she teased me, purring her silky voice against me. I kissed her, sent the message directly to her mouth, straight down her throat with every press of my lips to hers. Her fingers slowed down, but they pushed harder instead. Old London Town swirled around me, twisting into a thin wavy line that became the river we sailed on. I couldn't see, couldn't breathe … she tweaked my clit in a cruel movement, and I stifled a yell as I came hard. How had she done that? How had this country girl known?

I felt the pull of the ship's brakes, and Mae yanked me bodily off the boat. She dragged my weary backside through the streets, and up the steep hill to the Royal Greenwich Observatory. The mature green trees on the pathway dappled the sunlight to shadows, like doubts chasing around my big city mind. Mae let go of me as we entered the main yard, where a thick brass line ran across the paving slabs, marking the Prime Meridian Line. I knew this place, knew it was special, but right then, my sex-clouded brain was refusing to cooperate further.

"This is the start," Mae announced. "All time on Earth is measured from this spot, and all space is measured from this place." She stood with strong brown legs straddling either side of the brass marker. "Let's start something, Lesley," she said, looking at me shyly. "Let's start something right now."

"But you're only here a few days," I said, and I felt ashamed for my whiny words.

"Don't you get it? You can always reach me; whenever you come here, you'll always feel me." She pulled me to stand beside her. "Each of your feet is in different parts of the world, Lesley. One is in the West and one is in the Eastern hemisphere. Each step you make here will bring you closer to me."

I've lived in London all my life, loved the big dirty city with all my heart, but right then, I would have happily given it all up if I could follow Mae to her volcanic island in the blue Caribbean sea. I didn’t want her to fly away from me, to leave me all alone in this old town. Her words had softened the hard city girl within me; the part of me that was cold, tough, and always moving, always consuming. I didn't want to listen to her, I just wanted to go home, and forget this strange amazing woman, but as I shrugged out of Mae’s grasp, I felt something strange; a tingling sensation that ran from the Meridian line, up my legs and straight into my cunt. I felt the miles from my home to Mae’s diminish, felt the power of the spinning globe we lived on as it twirled time and space into a single moment, a single step, from one side of the world to the next.

I looked up at Mae in wonder, and my smile shone like the sun.


If you’d like to read more about sexy shenanigans in the U.K, please take a peek at my anthologies, Erotic Brits and Sexy Scotland, both published by eXcessica.

Jacqueline Applebee

@applewriter on Twitter


  1. Jacqueline - as a longtime fan of your work, I'm glad to welcome you to the Grip.

  2. Thanks so much for the opportunity to do this. I never realised how much I loved London until I wrote this!

  3. Hi, Jacqui!

    Welcome to the Grip! As you can see if you've checked out any of the other posts this week, you're not alone in loving London.

    I remember loving this story in WTGA - one of the great tales in an overall great collection.

  4. Jacqueline, welcome to the Grip! I enjoyed that story when I first read it. London was fascinating when I was there almost 40 years ago, but clearly some things have improved! No latex tours or erotic readings in the 1970s, but there were a few discreet ads for a lesbian group that produced a newsletter -- radical for the time.

  5. Jean, the lesbians in London are not remotely discreet nowadays!


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