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SYNOPSIS
It is more than twenty years since Miranda Bradley first walked into our evening television viewing, the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth girl-next-door who captured our hearts in her first ever role, and has retained her hold on them ever since.
Living a life without scandal or mishap, or any of the behind-the-scenes shockers that habitually shake the image of her small-screen contemporaries, Bradley was long ago dubbed the Virgin Queen by the tabloids.
But the time has come to puree that purity – and who better to flick the switch than Miss Bradley herself?
Titled for her first television role, but a long way from the freckled minx who delighted the nation with her mischievous innocence, Naughty Miranda is her own no-holds-barred sexual autobiography, a kaleidoscope of taste, touch and exquisitely vivid story telling.
But Naughty Miranda is not another “hot” Hollywood memoir. She might work in Tinseltown, but she lives in the real world.
There are NO incredible casting couch seductions, NO torrid affairs with steamy leading men, and NO on-set sex scenes that slipped a few inches too far.
Her loves take place away from the cameras, away from the hot lights and microphones, in a world of shopping malls, SUVs, camping trips and bus-stops, in a world where she is plain Miranda, and most people don’t even notice her… unless she decides she wants them to.
In other words, butter still wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But her men always do.
EXTRACT
I was sopping wet, but still he could barely penetrate me, no matter how hard he pushed.
I sucked at my lip to stifle a yelp as the alien pressure of one firm, unyielding finger
probed and prodded my stubborn flesh. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ve never…”
“Never?” He sounded surprised, but concerned as well. “Then, are you sure…”
“Oh my God, yes.” I bit his shoulder through the cloth of his shirt, and winced as I
felt the forceful entry of his middle knuckle. He withdrew a little, then pushed again,
sliding in the slickness that flowed from my pussy… a pussy that felt as though it must be
yawning wide for his favors, but which remained chokingly tight. A one-inch peg in a
half-inch hole.
Imperceptibly, I felt him sink a little deeper, and I gasped for him to “do that again.”
He did – once, twice, three times. But then I felt his finger disengage, the faint plop as
my wet walls released their hold, the gently electricity as he started to swirl around my
outer lips and then, a sensation so vivid that I swear I heard the “twang,” even as I felt
it.
This time I did squeak, and I saw heads turn around us, startled out of their own private
reveries by the sound. He smiled and placed his free hand over my mouth. “Hush! You’ll
get us thrown off the bus.”
I giggled behind his fingers, then gasped again as he did it once more. “Twang.”
“What on earth?” I knew what he was doing, of course’ even a virgin knows where her
clitoris is. What I didn’t understand was how. Finger and fuck, those were the cardinal
rules of teenaged sex, and everything I’d gleaned from those girlfriends who done either
of them convinced me that one was much the same as the other – the thing went in, it
pushed itself around, and then it stopped. The idea that it might seek out other places,
other pleasures, and pluck them with a dexterity that I imagined was my private secret
alone, had never crossed my mind.
I sunk my teeth again into his shoulder, braved myself for the next soul-stirring surge,
then kept on bracing myself, as his initially tentative strokes grew firmer, faster. He
was playing me like a guitar, and my entire body was paralyzed around the sensations, the
screaming immensity of every nerve-ending standing to attention, blazing and bristling out
of my loins, until my entire being was tensed so taut that the slightest movement, the
merest motion. “Twang.”
His free hand was on my mouth again, pressing between my lips so that my teeth burrowed
into the flesh, but even that could not completely muffle my yelps. Again I was conscious
of people glancing round at us, but let them… “oh – oh – oh – oh”, something was
happening… oh my God, it was happening… his finger was moving faster now, positively
vibrating my clitoris, and I… was… cummmmming!
His hand pushed deeper into my mouth, taking the full strength of my teeth against the
flesh around his thumb, I fought to control the cry that built up so deep within me that
even I could not guess at its source… and still it came out, in a gurgled, strangled,
sobbing roar.
