I’ve written about the Zumio before, and it’s rare that I cover a sex toy more than once (unless it’s a sex machine or is made by Doxy or is something I’ve lovingly customised like the Fleshlight Launch… oh OK I guess I do cover lots of sex toys more than once) but this is one of the best sex toys I have ever owned, and it just came down in price – from $140 to $98, and I have three stories about the lengths I will go to if I am deprived of Zumio action which I’ve been itching to publish for a while. It’s a fun, fuckable, now slightly-more-affordable sex toy, and I am powerfully in lust with it, so let’s get stuck in: three reasons why you should buy a Zumio.

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This story was written based on a suggestion from someone over on Patreon. Come support me there if you’d like to make suggestions for other blog posts, and massive thanks to the person who suggested this topic. The ‘bottomless’ look is very popular in my house, although here we call it ‘top no bottoms’. Or rather, my partner excitedly yells ‘top no bottoms!!’ if I walk into a room wearing a t-shirt and no knickers, and plonk my naked arse onto the sofa. That’s why this one’s written with love as well as horn. Hope you like it.

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This spanking erotica, by author Tabitha Rayne, originally appeared on her website. It is read here by Leo DiLuca.

They locked gazes for another brief moment then Archie nodded, dragging her up once again like a rag doll and placed her over log that was now on its side.

“What the?” she began to say but he silenced her with a sharp slap to her thigh.

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It’s Masturbation Month! You know what that means? It means that I get to spend a very pleasant afternoon cooking up dirty stories with which to entertain and inspire you to wank (if you want to), while simultaneously showing a bit of well-deserved love to the excellent companies that sponsor my site and support my work. Regular readers will know that a similar hot wank fantasies exercise last year turned out to be one of the most popular posts of 2019, perhaps because all the stories are short flash fiction so I can let my inner pervert run wild. I thought I’d do the same thing this year, with a few stories that have a lockdown-lust flavour.

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I know it’s irrational, I know it sounds silly. I know there is no ultimate benchmark of behaviour whereby one could draw a line that divides people into conclusive ‘good’ or ‘bad’ categories. I know that it’s needlessly patronising – infantilising, even – and that by accepting the label I put myself in a position that’s wildly at odds with the feminist principles that guide the rest of my life. But still: I want you to tell me I’m a very good girl.

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