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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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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Imagine that alongside independent cafés, and large chains like Starbucks and Pret, there’s an even bigger coffee company: CupHub, where you can get your caffeine fix for free. The only catch is that instead of having a dedicated team of baristas, paid by the company, basically anyone can pop behind the counter and make your coffee for you. Instead of buying coffee to serve you, CupHub relies on people dumping coffee at the entrance to their shops. Sometimes this coffee is legit, other times it’s stolen or tainted in some way. CupHub does its best to try and make sure it isn’t, but inevitably some bad coffee and bad people will slip through the net. Still: free coffee! Woo!

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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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I know how much you like watching your dick slide in. I know it because I love watching you, in turn: on your knees above me, your eyes downcast as you focus on sliding it slowly inside, occasionally glancing up to look at my reaction as each inch of your aching erection stretches and fills up my cunt. But you can never quite get the right angle, can you? You can never quite get your face close enough to see the detail – the wetness that clings to the skin of your cock, for instance. You never get to see it from a distance other than the exact length of your torso: no more, no less. What’s more, neither of us ever get to see it from behind – how the prominent ridge on the underside looks bold and hard and beautiful, like it does in porn. There’s a solution for that now, though, isn’t there?

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