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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Today’s guest blogger is Carolyn Busa – a writer/comedian who grabbed my attention with her previous incredible piece ‘I want to be fucked like latte art.’ Go check it out, because it’s fabulous, and then pop back here to read today’s funny Sex Toy Story, written from the perspective of a magic wand. I’m especially delighted to bring you wank-focused stories because it’s Masturbation Month at the moment. So read this excellent guest blog, follow Carolyn on Twitter or Instagram, and if you’re Pixar, please don’t sue.

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This hot piss play erotica is written by Floss Liddell, read here by Girl on the Net. 

The desire is lodged in my chest, a sudden onslaught of need is physically gripping me, I can barely catch my breath and the ache for you is unbearable as I consider you in a way I have never done before. One story was all it took, a story where warm piss fell upon soft skin and my mind raced to thoughts of you, my heart pounding, my want rising, as my debauched little mind begged me to ask this of you.

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The other night, I missed the moment he came. It wasn’t the end of the world, naturally – I miss plenty of his orgasms, because most of them happen when he’s alone. The spaff goes unobserved, as he beats it into a tissue or one of the wank rags I bought for ecological reasons (and also pervy reasons – we’ll get to this in a second). But on this particular occasion, I was a bit sad about missing his cum shot. So he invented a new game for me to play: CSI: Wank.

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“What was the plot of that porn, then?” He asks me, twenty seconds after we’ve both come. We’re sitting side-by-side on the sofa, him covered in spunk and me casually discarding the dildo and Zumio I used to get there myself. On the TV the porn scene we were watching still plays: porn with no plot, just a couple of people having a vigorous and sexy shag. He reaches for the controller to switch it off as I try to put into words what ‘the plot of that porn’ really was.

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