Something for the Weekend – Free Kindle Humour: Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Free for the next five days here(UK) or here(US)

Here we are back, once again, in Little Frigging in the Wold: England’s most perverse, erotic and excitingly-moist village, for some more tales of rural life, with more adventures and tales featuring Grand Uncle Stagnant, Old Feebletrousers, Strom Thighhammer, the cake shop manageress and many more of Little Frigging’s residents. 

This book includes over one hundred stories involving inter-village competitive orgies, the erotic use of foodstuffs, how to extract as much money from tourists as possible, the naked pogo-stick steeplechase, mid-air and deep-sea perversions, the use of the fetish unicycle, medieval woodland perversions, the erotic use of cardigans, achieving match fitness in an inter-village orgy squad, accountancy fetish night in the village hall, and – of course – the best way of sellotaping a Cornish pasty to an assistant librarian for erotic purposes and much, much more.

Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Free for the next five days here(UK) or here(US)

Some comments on David Hadley’s writing:

“Wonderfully weird.”

“brilliantly funny story. I love it.”

“good god, I haven’t laughed so much in ages. “

“very funny, I had a good laugh at this story”

“Clever, and very funny.”

“really funny, had a right good old laugh at this

story.”

“This made me laugh so much, tears came into my eyes….”

“I just sprayed barely masticated tomato all over my keyboard from laughing too hard”

“highly creative and hilarious as always”

“lol this is so funny.”

“another one of yours I truly enjoyed, “Old Feebletrousers” love it!”

“This is a very funny story, it made me laugh.”

“Absolutely brilliant. Thank you”

“This piece produced a lot of giggles!”

“Yep! This was a real funny piece, it had me laughing….”

Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Free for the next five days here(UK) or here(US)

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[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Supermarket Eroticism

Only then could we see just why she needed the tin of pilchards. Notwithstanding – of course – all the usual reasons a lady of her... inclinations engages in such a blatant – and full-frontal – display of full-on shopping.

Of course, in a society that doesn't like sex, but loves porn, such a display of uninhibited purchasing of domestic staples is bound to bring on a certain sexually-charged frisson. Especially if the young lady in question is more than averagely attractive and has a massive pair of shopping lists.

Of course, there are many who will take only one list on their shop. But such - known as 'vanilla' or 'ordinary' shoppers - to full-on supermarket fetishists, know little of the illicit sexual thrill having an extra shopping list can add to the experience. After all, at the top of most people's shopping sex wish-list is a desire to experiment with threesomes. For many people, that means the standard, 'buy two get one free' offers. For others, though, it can be more inventive. Right up to and including setting off down the aisles with two shopping trolleys. Of course, the dexterity, let alone the desire, needed to control two wayward and independently-minded shopping trolleys is of course not all that usual in our repressed society. We cannot deny it exists, at least, judging by the number of specialist websites displaying shopping women – and sometimes even men – in erotic poses with two – or even sometimes more – shopping trolleys.

Of course, the usual self-appointed moral guardians and religious leaders have condemned erotic shopping and all it entails. But we have to ask ourselves how many of them have ever felt the sudden overwhelming need to go out and buy a can of pilchards?

I know I have.

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

The Selling of Tales

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a story.’ The artisan stood back, admiring his own work.

‘What does it do?’

The artisan glanced up, thinking it was maybe the inbreeding, but – still – as his old dad always said, the customer is always right. ‘It is a series of events, written down.’

‘Oh.’ The (potential) customer leant closer, looking at the squiggles on the parchment. He’d had several expensive tutors, some of whom had strongly suggested he learn what these black squiggles represented. But he, (now, Duke) Farantzy, didn’t see the point. ‘Oh,’ he repeated. ‘What events?’

‘Well, this one is about a heroic knight,’ the artisan glanced at the (potential) customer’s dress and regalia. ‘A Duke....’

‘A Duke?’

‘Yes, a Duke.’ The artisan took a breath, he could always rewrite it before delivery, shove in a couple of references to dukes. ‘He journeys to save a princess from a dragon.’

‘Ooh, a princess, eh?’

‘Yes, a beautiful princess.’

‘How beautiful?’ The Duke made a gesture suggesting he was weighing a pair of grapefruit in his hands.

‘Oh, very beautiful.’ The artisan made a similar gesture suggesting he was weighing a pair of melons… watermelons. How he suffered for his art.

‘But… a dragon?’

‘Yes, a very brave… fearless Duke.’

‘And I… er… he kills the dragon?’

‘Well…. I wouldn’t want to give the end away.’

‘Oh?’ The Duke scratched his beard. ‘Then why have you written it all down?’

‘I… er…. To entertain… in the reading of it.’

It was the first time the Duke had ever heard the words ‘entertain’ and ‘read’ in the same sentence, at least one without any negative connotations.

‘The joy is in the reading, the unfolding of the tale.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, how strange. Couldn’t you just tell me if he gets off with the princess?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Nowas not a word the Duke was used to hearing. His hand reached towards the pommel of his sword.

‘No,’ the artisan repeated hastily. ‘The joy of the tale is in the telling.’

‘What?’

The artisan sighed. This was turning into a long sale. ‘You share the tale with the characters in it, as it goes along; share their adventures, their trials, their mista… their misfortunes and triumphs. So by the time he gets to fight the dragon to rescue the princess you feel as though you are there with him. You share his every stroke of the sword, every thrust of the lance is yours as though you yourself are fighting the dragon.’

‘Eeek!’ The Duke blushed. ‘I mean, poor bloody dragon….’ He gripped the pommel tight. ‘Wouldn’t stand a chance, know what I mean?’

The artisan nodded. ‘Of course, sire.’

‘So why don’t you just tell me what happens in the end, save me the bother of having it read to… of me reading it?’

‘Like I said, sire, the joy is being in the tale yourself.’

‘Right.’

‘So, sire,’ shall I wrap it, have it delivered to your house?’

The Duke thought for a moment. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘I’ll just wait for the DVD.’ He turned and left the shop.

The artisan watching the Duke stride away as he used several words, under his breath, he’d never used in any of his stories... yet.

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

Looking for Her

She was small, dark-haired and her eyes were in constant movement, watching everything and everyone around us. Her skin was a dark-brown, like finely polished wood. Later, when she undressed for me, I saw she had no tan lines. She’d never hidden any part of her body from the sun.

She led me away from the crowd, out beyond the edges of the town, out past the fields and back towards the woods.

‘I don’t want to be in the town,’ she said. An explanation that hid more than it revealed. As we walked away, she kept glancing back over her shoulder, watching for something. It was not until we left the last of the buildings and fields behind, and were inside the wood, that she relaxed.

‘Is someone looking for you?’ I asked.

She just laughed and looked back over her shoulder once more. She turned to face me. ‘Everybody is looking for me. You were looking for me.’

‘I found you.’

‘Did you?’ She laughed again and led me to a place at the side of the road. There was a break in the undergrowth. I would not have given it a second glance if I’d been riding through the woods. Beyond the road, behind the undergrowth there was a hidden path.

She tuned a few strides along the path and I saw a knife glint in the sunlight that found its way through the high trees. ‘This path is a secret.’

I nodded, my eyes fixed on the knife. ‘I know about secrets,’ I said. ‘I have too many of my own.’

She stared at me for a while and then put away her knife. She stepped towards me. I could smell something earthy, something wild about her as strong as the smell of wood smoke in her tangled hair. She grinned at me. ‘Come on then. Come with me and tell me all you secrets and I will show you mine.’

So I did… and later she did too.

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

New Kindle Novel Out Now: Juggling Balls

Juggling Balls available here(UK) or here(US)

Special Low Launch Price: £0.77/$0.99

Martin Laws hates mysteries. 

So why has someone sent him a bag of juggling balls? 

Why has he no memory of buying a new computer?

Why has that new computer decided Martin needs to go shopping?

Why does a hairstylist he's never met before keep saluting him?

Most of all, why are so many Elvis impersonators trying to kill him?

Juggling Balls - a science fiction comedy featuring time travel, mind control implants and a future religion that claims an Elvis Presley clone as its saviour. 

Oh, and an interplanetary terraced house.

Juggling Balls available here(UK) or here(US)

Special Low Launch Price: £0.77/$0.99

[Other Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

One That Size

‘But, look….’

She turned.

I could tell she was impressed.

‘It’s not often you see one that size, not these days.’ She took a step back towards me. ‘Can I touch it?’

I hesitated.

‘Oh, go on….’ She licked her lips. ‘Please?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘After all, we hardly know each other.’

‘It would be…’ she said, edging closer to me and looking up into my eyes. ‘A way of us getting to know each other better.’

I nodded, suddenly feeling much warmer. I could feel the heat of her body and smell her perfume… an expensive one. I breathed deeply and my senses were full of her.

‘Let me touch it… please.’ She looked up at me, longing in her eyes.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You do know that just about now there is a twist in the narrative that reveals the joke that is the whole point of this story?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘I’ve been in quite a few stories like this before. In fact, if you do the researchyou’ll see that I’m one of this author’s stock characters.’

‘So you do realise that this sexual overtone, the euphemistic speech will turn out to have nothing to do with sex after all, in the end?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘But, in the meantime…?’

‘What?’

‘Give us a feel of your cock.’

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

Something for the Weekend: Free Kindle Short Story: An Undulation of a Shadow’s Edge

FREE Short Story

An Undulation of a Shadow’s Edge

Available FREEfor the Kindle here(UK) or here(US) for the next 5 days.

Short story: 7,500 words (approx)

Dark creatures writhe in the city’s shadows, Claire has seen them and seen their hungry eyes watching her… and waiting.

Claire avoids the darkness and the shadows of the city’s nights because she knows what lurks there.

That was until the night she saw Henry, standing in the darkest shadows watching her, wanting her as much as she wants him. But he is as unwilling to leave the dark as Claire is to enter it.

Will Claire save Henry before the shadows and darkness consume him and he is lost to the darkness forever?

Available FREEfor the Kindle here(UK) or here(US) for the next 5 days.

One-Hit Wonders

Stylophone Trabant is – these days – probably the world's leading Rock Star. As lead gobshite with the UK's current (for this week at least) all-time greatest rock band Toad Entrails, he first came to attention on their number 32 hit single – Serving Suggestion.

With its intensely profound lyrics detailing just how to cook some instant noodles, this song seemed revolutionary in the staid and conservative rock music world. Set to a heavy metal version of a traditional Norwegian fishing song, the music was played on an accordion and bagpipes and featured a foghorn solo. So Serving Suggestionwas different enough to the run of the mill chart dross to get the attention of some of the country's most self-important music critics.

Although, these days music critics are no longer as significant as they like to think they once were, back in the heyday of the NME, Melody Maker and the Walsall Daily Advertiser. Even so, these days some people still do occasionally notice there are people who are paid to write about music. It was these music critics and their championing of Toad Entrails as the next big thing which brought Stylophone Trabant and his suspiciously well-filled trousers to the attention of the public. A Public growing increasingly disinterested in the music business and the posturing fools who think it owes them a living, as well as a drug habit equal to the GDP of several combined undeveloped economies.

However, it will be (almost) interesting to see if Toad Entrails and Stylophone Trabant himself can live up to the hype built up around them. They do claim they have nearly three notes of the next single already recorded. However, many are now beginning to feel they will be yet another band to add to the ever-growing list of one-hit wonders in pop history.

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Roadside Experiments

Well, there she was. Which was not ideal, for if she was over here then I wouldn't have had to shout against a background of heavy traffic noise. So, I believe she can hardly be blamed for any of the subsequent misunderstandings, except of course the incident with the weasel.

However, the weasel is now receiving intensive trauma counselling, so it is possible that later a line may be drawn under that particular aspect of the experience.

Although, current psychological evidence does suggest that the weasel may never be fully at ease... ever again. Especially in the near vicinity of a cheese and sweet pickle baguette.

However, such setbacks should not divert us from the bigger picture and the great advances made in our understanding of human sexuality. In particular how it relates – or not – to the lay-by. Especially during the early evening rush hour.

As well, of course, as the significant increase in our understanding of cheese and sweet pickle-related trauma in impressionable young weasels. A subject which, I'm sure you will agree, modern science has woefully left unresearched. Even despite the more than generous research funds available from the EU for such vital research.

Anyway, so there she was dressed in the full leather outfit and ready for our research project to begin. At least, until the police patrol arrived and insisted we erect the barriers to avoid distracting the passing drivers. In particular the drivers heavy goods vehicles. The police claimed there was a possibility of us causing a severe road accident when the aforesaid driver became aware of a rather under-dressed young lady striking nubile posses in a lay-by near Redditch. Which, if you have ever driven around Redditch will make you understand why those drivers were in dire need of any distraction available.

Still. The erection of several large cricket sight-screens in a lay-by did cause more inconvenience, we are sure – than any provocatively-dressed young lady would have done. Consequently, the entire lay-by was soon full of haphazardly-parked vehicles as their drivers stopped to see what was going on.

This, unfortunately, meant that any results we gathered from our research immediately became invalidated by the crowds of observers. For as we all know the nubility index of any young lady is often erratically perturbed by the number of observers present.

Therefore we had no alternative but to abandon the experiment for that day.

However, we plan to try again, but this time somewhere in the vicinity of Luton where – it is said – drivers are immured to all roadside distractions, no matter how provocative.

However, we shall have to wait for our experimental confirmation of this sometime in the near future before it can be stated without equivocation or the possibility of statistical error.

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Ah, Those Sexy Castanets

It happens, albeit not as often as back in the days of yore, or even mine. But, occasionally, there is still a sign of life in the old thing. Especially when she does that thing with the castanets and the current Argos catalogue.

Still, having said – or, at least, typed - that, I must admit that age does come to us all. With it, the ageing process brings many deprecations of the physical and the mental. Often, it gets to be the case that what is desired – even yearned for (as in the case of the Argos catalogue and the castanets) cannot be physically achieved. There is also the case that the physical is possible but you can't remember why you came in here, and why you are holding the spoon.

However, as I was saying, there are not all that many of then in Spain, especially in the more coastal regio....

Hang on, that wasn't it....

Anyway, there she was posed intimately with the Rear Admiral (as it were) and the commander of the Fleet Air Arm, both immersed in the bath full of lukewarm custa....

No, it wasn't that, either.

Hang on, I'll remember what it was I was going to say - and/or type - in a minute... as soon as I remember what I was going to do with this spoon....

Hang on, is that the sound of castanets I hear? Is that also the tell-tale rustling of the pages of a current Argos catalogue too?

Now I remember why she wanted the spoon.... and the handcuffs....

Duty calls....

Goodbye

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

The Issue of the Gazelle

And this?

Well, obviously, that is involved with other matters entirely. So if we could just put it to one side... carefully. Ideally, not next to either the gazelle or the tennis racquet, then we can move on to more tasteful and refined matters.

Of course, if we are serious about becoming more tasteful and refined here at this... er... whatever this is, then I'm afraid that you - especially you over there - will have to forgo, or at least limit, anointing yourself all over will baby oil. Especially before you leap in and peruse whatever that day's particular missive sets forth.

Oh, and make sure that device of yours is switched off too, you know how much the buzzing perturbs the gazelle. Which, then, makes the tennis racquet somewhat superfluous. Especially when it then has baby oil all over the grip.

As you are no doubt aware, being a person of refined discernment, several animal welfare organisations, at a worldwide level, are growing increasingly concerned about possible animal abuses. Especially about the number of gazelles becoming unnecessarily perturbed by various untoward goings-on in the domestic environment. It is at such a stage that some of these charities are calling for a ban on tennis racquets and the strict licensing and control of baby oil. As well as making those devices illegal to posses within a two-hundred metre radius of any gazelle of a nervous disposition – which, let's face it – is most of them.

Now, while most right-thinking people think that a ban on the possession or use of a tennis racquet for use in the sordid world of international tennis is at least a step in the right direction. Going, as it does, towards removing the abomination that is tennis from this world it has blighted for so long. However, some believe the erotic use of the tennis racquet is too important, despite its sometimes detrimental effect on any nearby gazelles, for an outright ban to be considered... yet.

So, please bear this in mind and - to be on the safe side - be careful with that baby oil too.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Taming the Wild Frontier

Across the wild frontier that separates these civilised lands from the wild countries out to the west, there is fear and tension. Over the border, the savages run wild, sometimes staying up beyond the late night weather forecast. Eating chips as they roam the streets looking for trouble, or failing that an interesting lamppost to fight.

Once, before the arrival of the lawmen, these lands too were wild and savage. They knew nothing of early closing days or days off in lieu. Sometimes, even the women would put down their knitting during an unusually tense episode of Call the Midwife. While the men would know little of anything beyond the final score and the imminent prospect of the transfer window closing.

Yes, back in those days the men were men and the women were women. On occasion, some of the men were women too which made for a sometimes interesting evening under the broken and beaten-up lampposts.

However, eventually civilisation arrived in these lands. Although, some mourn the loss of the freedom to live wild and free and to watch adult cable channels late into the night, the majority feel it is far better now. Even if it is just to step out knowing the lampposts will be in full working order. Also, that – consequently – any lady met under such a lamppost late into the night will have had the foresight to at least shave off his beard beforehand.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

From East of Walsall

She came out of the wild unknown lands east of Walsall. It was sad that she knew too many secrets from the wild lands. That she knew how to conjure and make the politicians do her bidding with only a handful of video files and a single USB memory stick.

It was said too that she knew the secrets arts of the accordion and just what to do with a high court judge and a bath filled with lukewarm custard. Some even suggested she understood every taxation exception rule ever made into law.

Such is the stuff of legend.

Those of us who met her, knew she had a way with words. She also understood several other far more interesting ways with several lengths of rope, a cast iron bed frame and an ostrich feather. But those of us who knew that, also knew not to mention it to anyone. Especially not to the journalists that hung around her, sniffing for exclusives and tales of bedroom romps with the great and the good, and some politicians as well.

Of course, it could not last. These things never do, despite what the pharmaceutical companies promise. Soon, her looks began to fade and her dexterity with the accordion was not what it was during her heyday. Other, younger, women came along. Some arrived even from the legendary lands of Tewkesbury. A place where the women are women and the men are left in whimpering heaps by the side of the road.

Soon she was gone and never heard of ever again.

Although, there are some who say there is a retirement bungalow down on the south coast somewhere, where late at night if you listen carefully you can hear the strains of an accordion on the sea breeze. If the wind is right, they say, you can just make out the tell-tale scent of a bath slowly filling with lukewarm custard.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

An Intimate Device

Obviously, you would have thought so....

At least judging by the number of YouTube videos dealing without how to go about it all without suffering any injury to the lower back. Or, for that matter, causing an outbreak of faux outrage on the social media outlet of choice for those who believe they owe the world their opinions on all and sundry.

Speaking of all and sundry, which I was, even if you were waiting for the more... intimate details, there is the matter of the so-called optional attachments. Most of which, cost extra. Thus the initial lack of them makes the device itself little more than an ornament, or even a conversation piece... if you like having conversations about that sort of thing. Despite this so-called frank and open age, many people in our experience would not always wish to venture down such conversational routes. Especially those routes opened up by seeing such a device proudly displayed in a position of promise on a friend or neighbour's mantelpiece.

Of course, many for the older generations will often ask – sometimes even to your face – why such devices are even necessary. After all, in the immediate post-war period with rationing and many of the men still away in the forces, most women had to make do and mend. Mostly with whatever they could find around the household. Which mainly entailed some very imaginative knitting and the creative use of tinned spam.

So, maybe, it is better not to decry the more than obvious limitations of such devices. Nor should we regard as more than a little irksome some of her particularly wistful looks at some of the more generously endowed vegetables on display in the fresh produce aisle of the supermarket. Instead, we should be grateful that technology has developed towards creating such essential devices in the first place. Moreover, we should look towards the future with anticipation for what greater possibilities it will bring – providing we can get the batteries for it.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Wildlife Documentaries of the Future

Well, as you know if you are a devotee of nature and wildlife programmes on the TV, these days it is rare to see the Attenborough in the wild. At least in his native habitat downwind from any rutting wild animals. Some even claim the TV naturalist is becoming an endangered species, especially with the possibilities of miniaturisation and remote operation of today's camera technology.

There are some, indeed, who believe the whole business of going out into the back of beyond, just to film various animals either having it off or eating one-another, and sometimes both, is no longer a viable business model. Especially in these days of reduced budgets, receding hairlines and the relative paucity of camera-ready totty in the field. Let alone the expense of getting some out of work former top-flight actor to do the voice-over when all else fails.

Critics point to the increasing success of CGI films featuring cartoon animals with far more endearing personalities than their natural wild analogues. As well as the merchandising prospects of some of the more engaging artificial creatures.

So, in future, it looks as though computer-generated virtual animals will replace today's wildlife documentaries. Programmes where the animals can go beyond the mere rutting and devouring with, and of, one-another and go on to do more adventurous activities, up to and including saving the world from mankind in cute and endearing ways. This will leave both the possibilities of numerous sequels to each programme and the very real possibility of significant merchandising sales as the creatures grow into popular characters.

All in all then, a much more rewarding televisual experience. Much better than watching, yet again, some old bloke crouching behind a bush, muttering on about how exciting it is to be this close to a pair of wild creatures either copulating with, or eating, one-another.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US).]

Mouse in the Alley

We kissed, hard and urgent. I pushed her back against the wall as our hands roamed over each other. We could hear them, shouting and running feet. We broke off the kiss and stared towards the mouth of the alley.

‘We haven’t got time for this,’ Mouse whispered, even though her hands were already unfastening and rummaging through my clothes. I glanced down the alley again.

Mouse nibbled my lip, her tongue entering my mouth as I was about to speak. We kissed again. ‘This alley…? Do you know it?’ I said as we came back up for air.

Mouse shook her head as she moved lower.

‘It could be a dead-end.’ I glanced back at the mouth of the alley again. The voices and the running feet were getting closer. Then I had to close my eyes for a moment as Mouse’s tongue did one of its special tricks.

For a while I forgot where we were, what we’d done and who we were running from.

Then, reluctantly, I pulled Mouse to her feet. She grinned at me, licking her lips and kissed me again.

‘We have to go,’ I said, trying to fit myself back inside clothes that were now way too tight. ‘Now!’

Mouse laughed and took my hand, half-running down the alley. She stopped laughing when we reached the wall at the end.

I looked back. They were at the top of the alley; I could see torches, hear excited shouts. If there’d been only one or two, or even a handful, we could have tried to fight our way out. But this time it was the Guard and there were at least twenty of them, and they were coming down the alley.

All of them.

I turned back to see Mouse half-undressed, shoving the sack and her weapons and tools behind a barrel.

‘Quickly,’ she said pulling me to her and tugging down my trousers with one hand as she shoved my stuff with hers behind the barrel with the other.

We tried not to look as the flaming torches came closer.

‘Hey, you!’ a voice called as the torches lit up the alley.

‘What?’ Mouse cursed at the Guard. ‘Can’t a girl earn a few honest coins without you wanting your cut?’

The Guards swore and turned away.

‘We should ask them,’ a young voice said. ‘Ask if they’ve seen the thieves.’

‘Really?’ An older, more tired, voice said. ‘And do you think they’d really have noticed…? Come on, let’s go back to the crossing and try the other streets.’

I turned back to see Mouse laughing silently. ‘We should go.’

‘Why stop now?’ she laughed again and pulled me closer.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

The Purl

Kretz looked up at me from where she’d been sleeping, head on my chest. She blinked slowly. Her pink tongue darted out and licked the side of her hand; she brushed the hand over the side of her face a few times, purring as she did it.

Sometimes, just sometimes, it can be more than a little disconcerting, but in a universe the size of this one, it is – almost - bound to happen.

For such a long time, we humans had wondered if we were alone in the universe. We’d wondered whether there was life out there, somewhere amongst all those stars. Then we discovered those stars had planets, that ours was not the only one. Then, a little later we’d discovered that some of those planets were in the goldilocks zone like ours.

Then, we found we were not alone.

The Purl were one of the first races from beyond our solar system to contact us. Then when we discovered what the Purl were, then it was inevitable we’d find so much in common, considering humanity’s long association with cats. Discovered by the Purl, and brought into the association of intelligent species by them had a certain rightness about it. A race of intelligent cats – well, it was a love affair waiting to happen.

Kretz wrapped her tail around us as we lay there. She was purring again. I took a deep breath. I was going to have to tell her it was over, that I had to go back to Earth.

I looked down at those hands… paws, with their razor-sharp claws retracted. I thought about her sharp pointed teeth and about what a cat could do to a mouse. Then I thought about my pink helpless body and I decided, instead, to put off telling her… at least, for a while.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

Naughty Tennis – A Tactical Approach

Anyway, there we were. She had the tennis racquet, of course... but we won't go into that, not before the watershed anyway.

Still, as the typical British weather is pouring down, it is possibly safe to assume that whatever amount of water constitutes the aforesaid watershed. At least, that amount has already been shed this morning. Therefore we are safe to continue with this promenade through the outer suburbs of what is regarded as both the rude and the naughty with little chance of interruption. Especially any interruption from those who like to think they know what is best for everyone.

Just why so many people think it is any of their business what others get up to. Or, that it is for them to stipulate which of those doings has their approval or not, we will leave to one side for a while. At least for as long as it takes to mention that she is rather adept with the tennis racquet, but – as we are civilised people – not for tennis obviously.

We are not that weird.

Anyway, there she stood, naked and proud and with the tennis racquet in a standard two-handed grip. She, of course, following the standard rules of Naughty Tennis was standing on the kitchen by-line, awaiting my service.

Of course, Naughty Tennis is always best played in the domestic setting. Except, of course, when there is something good on the telly. For then, the players can easy be distracted by Downton-esque plot twists during the vital match point manoeuvres, especially if it is their turn with the raspberry-flavoured jelly.

Anyway, I had the bag of marshmallows at the ready and my racquet was poised too.

But then she remembered a couple of VAT Invoices she had not filed correctly. So instead of Naughty |Tennis we went off to play a game of sexy VAT Inspector instead, which was good because it was my turn with the buff envelopes.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

Radicalism and Tinned Fruit

It was not that it was all that obvious, except from certain angles, but you could easily tell she was one of those women, by the way she moved down the street. Women, in the West, have achieved financial and social independence over the recent century or so. Consequently, certain women do indeed prefer to carry a tin of peach slices with them when they are out and about on an evening.

It was just over a hundred years ago when the Suffragette Henrietta Bullspizzle chained herself to the railings outside 10 Downing Street clutching a tin of peach slices. A few months later, another suffragette Doreen Pendulous smuggled a tin of mandarin segments, concealed in her bodice, into Purple's, a staunch men-only Gentleman's club. Another suffragette flagrantly opened a tin of fruit cocktail during the Grand National with - as we all know – tragically fatal consequences when the authorities later discovered she didn't have an appropriate serving spoon for the occasion.

From these tentative beginnings the suffragettes regarded carrying tinned fruit on or about the person as a political act. They claimed that the male patriarchy had a certain dismissive view of women found possessing various tinned goods when on a night out, especially tinned fruit. Suffragettes claimed men often viewed women holding - say – a tin of pineapple rings in a predatory manner. Especially if that male had in his possession a tin-opener (See, for example, Germoline Goat's: The Female with Fruit Cocktail in Syrup). This they claimed discriminated against the woman – who may have legitimate reasons of her own to want to carry some tinned fruit when going about her business.

However, as time passed and fashions changed it became more and more common for women to go out on the town carrying the aforementioned tinned fruit. This was especially the case for a girls' night out, when each of the women, more as a fashion accessory than as a political statement of feminist solidarity took with them a tin of mandarin segments.

Therefore present-day feminists have called for several Reclamation of the Peach Slices (in Syrup) Nights to take place in town centres throughout the UK. They hope the original spirit of radicalism can be reclaimed from what is now little more than a fashionable way of accessioning for a night on the town.

Others, though, claim that it is too late now and that modern feminists should be looking at other grocery items should they wish to make a political statement of equal importance to that of their forebears.

However, only time will tell who is right, this time.

 

[Books by David Hadley are available here (UK) or here (US)]

Something for the Weekend – Free Kindle Ebook – Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Sex, Pies and Sticky Tape

Available here (UK) and here (US) free for the Kindle for the next five days.

Here we are back, once again, in Little Frigging in the Wold: England’s most perverse, erotic and excitingly-moist village, for some more tales of rural life, with more adventures and tales featuring Grand Uncle Stagnant, Old Feebletrousers, Strom Thighhammer, the cake shop manageress and many more of Little Frigging’s residents.
This book includes over one hundred stories involving inter-village competitive orgies, the erotic use of foodstuffs, how to extract as much money from tourists as possible, the naked pogo-stick steeplechase, mid-air and deep-sea perversions, the use of the fetish unicycle, medieval woodland perversions, the erotic use of cardigans, achieving match fitness in an inter-village orgy squad, accountancy fetish night in the village hall, and – of course – the best way of sellotaping a Cornish pasty to an assistant librarian for erotic purposes and much, much more.

This book free for the next five days only

Available here (UK) and here (US) free for the Kindle for the next five days:

Some comments on David Hadley’s writing:
“Wonderfully weird.”
“brilliantly funny story. I love it.”
“good god, I haven’t laughed so much in ages. “
“very funny, I had a good laugh at this story”
“Clever, and very funny.”
“really funny, had a right good old laugh at this
story.”
“This made me laugh so much, tears came into my eyes….”
“I just sprayed barely masticated tomato all over my keyboard from laughing too hard”
“highly creative and hilarious as always”
“lol this is so funny.”
“another one of yours I truly enjoyed, “Old Feebletrousers” love it!”
“This is a very funny story, it made me laugh.”
“Absolutely brilliant. Thank you”
“This piece produced a lot of giggles!”
“Yep! This was a real funny piece, it had me laughing….”

Available here (UK) and here (US) free for the Kindle for the next five days