I like things that are new and different, and sex toys that do stuff I haven’t felt before. That doesn’t mean that all those sex toys will get me off: if I wanted a reliable, functional, powerful wank then I would never deviate from my Doxy. But I like sex toys that make me feel new things. The Queen Bee is one of those sex toys, and thanks to the fact that I work with the company, I got to play with an early version and then write about it before other people get their hands on one, so I am going to grasp this opportunity with… well, with one hand. The hand I am not currently using to hold the Queen Bee to my clit. Let us commence.

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Of course I fucking want to fuck you. I want to push you down onto the carpet and squat over you with my feet planted firmly on the hard floor, easing myself down onto your dick while you try desperately to hold back from thrusting upwards. I want to put both my hands on your chest to steady myself, and look into your eyes as they widen when you feel your cock sliding in. I want all of this and more, just give me five minutes.

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The first sex toy I ever owned was a rabbit vibrator. I started getting sexual soon after Sex and the City had made rabbit vibrators cool, and my boyfriend bought me my first one in the days before you could properly shop on the internet. I’m sure I’m not the only person of my generation whose first sex toy experience involved running into Ann Summers, grabbing The One That Everyone Said Was The Best, and then rushing home to try it out.

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Sometimes it’s obvious that a particular scenario will be hot to me. If it fits the template of most of my other fantasies – me in submission, being beaten or used in order to get someone off: tick. If it involves a vast quantity of spunk, or a belt, or a group of eager men: tick. I frequently embrace problematic fantasies – where ‘problematic’ roughly equates to ‘something I’d never want to happen in real life.’ Other times I’ll use fantasy to try out new kinks – in order to work out if something is going to press my buttons, I need to think about it for a while. Close my eyes, picture the scenario in my head, and thoughtfully frig myself off while I try a new fantasy on for size.

This post includes frank discussion of sexual fantasies that include extreme BDSM, and rape fantasies. 

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Once a month blood trickles from my vagina. I do beg your pardon for this – I know I should hide my monthly shame from you, because this is a sex blog and menstruation is grotesque, so I should really only talk about it in whispers. But it’s worth mentioning because a new product has arrived on the market that could mean I never have to show evidence of menstruation ever again – even when I am shagging the guy I am closest to in the whole wide world! Joy! Celebration! Let’s all pretend that periods don’t happen because if we think about it too much we’ll never fuck again!

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