“Nah, I’m knackered.”

I was too tired even for sleepy fucking. The kind of tired where I could barely open my eyes. Tired where I’d have been willing to pay a week’s wages just to get a day’s reprieve from work. Tired like I really didn’t want to fuck.

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I’m sitting on the sofa next to a boy who is playing Halo 4 on the Xbox. This is almost the best way to spend a Sunday. I write, he stares in deep concentration at the TV, running his fingers quickly over the controls, occasionally murmuring ‘shit’ or ‘motherfucker.’ It’s fantastic -relaxing and horny at the same time. But it’s not quite as good as what’s about to happen.

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I need to clarify – if only because at some point my Mum might read this and be disappointed in me – that I don’t confine my toilet-based sexual activity just to wanking. I’m a big fan of risky sex with other people too. Here is a trilogy of stories about fucking in the toilets.

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One of the most difficult fears to overcome is the fear of being weird. That’s partly why I write this stuff – I want people to read it and say “Oh, she does that as well. Perhaps I’m not abnormal after all.” But far greater than that is my need for people to tell me that it’s OK. That I’m not odd. That they do this sometimes too. And by ‘this’ I mean ‘wanking on the train.’

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If you’re reading this hoping for some lurid and detailed description of a time when I writhed naked with a dude on a hotel bathroom floor, having sex that culminated in me squatting over his face and urinating directly into his mouth, you’ll be sorely disappointed: I want to talk about boys pissing on girls. And why I love it when guys piss on me.

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