It’s hard to know where to begin when you’ve fucked over a hundred men.

Chronology, alphabetically by name, most memorable…you get the picture.

I would like to begin with a funnel – it is a notorious tale within my circle of friends – the one my sex life is most associated with. A tale I suspect of historical and hysterical value.

The funnel itself has many a tale to tell, more on which will undoubtedly follow over time, but even the premise of the funnel has an origin.

Somewhere closer to now and far away from where I began my deluded quest for love on the misguided, textbook premise ‘If I sleep with them they might love me!’, I fell prey to the joys of internet dating (sounds better than online sex). After many mishaps and notable rendezvous I found myself somewhat seduced by an individual who’d approached me on a rather seedy website (one he paid a membership fee for but was a freebie for me). This particular individual became the visionary behind the funnel affair. He was at worst someone in need of psychiatric help and at best an inspirational sexual genius.

My initial encounter within the first hour and a half of meeting him, as I discreetly went to the toilet to remove my unattractive impenetrable Bridget Jones-esque control knickers, involved a request to ‘grab a flannel’ to clean his neglected cock with and, if I was taking a wee, to ‘bring the used toilet paper back and shove it in his mouth’ – a little over-familiar for our first meeting I thought (however experimental or broad-minded I considered myself) but certainly a taster for what was to come. Quite possibly the reason why I ended up choosing to spend the rest of my life with this man.

If one was to contemplate a sexual encounter and was given the words, funnel, tubing, bottoms and wee, they would be forgiven for thinking there could only be a sordidness and depravity associated to the act. Which there was, but also great love and intimacy.

In a bid to achieve one of the ultimate forms of physical closeness, the inspired sexual genius stumbled upon the idea of attaching a tube to a funnel, inserting the tube in one’s bottom while the other person pissed into the funnel.

It straddled the worlds of sexual darkness and playful intimacy.

But here I must digress before divulging more on ‘the funnel’, it’s inception and ensuing particulars.

Sometime ago in my obsessive cyber sex phase, I was messaging a guy who informed me he would love to see a girl fucked my a dog – there are those that would call that a bit full on. He proceeded to ask me ‘what was the filthiest thing I ever done’. Back then I wasn’t a 70 words per minute typist and by the time I spelt out someone ‘on his knees removing my bloody tampon with his mouth’, the online conversation was cut very short with a final message saying ‘I think that’s absolutely disgusting. I don’t want to hear about things like that – it’s filthy, a turn off and makes me feel ill’. This castigation from someone who considered bestiality part of the norm.

For prudence sake and in a bid to build an audience, for my first post the intricacies of the funnel must and my more ‘hard core’ adventuress must wait.

If you continue to read this post you will not only get the full story of the funnel (and the allegedly offensive tampon tale) but a range of real life sex stories without the glitz and glamour fed to us in romantic novels and from perfectly directed movie sets. Be warned though every time you log in for some fun and filth, a pixie at the bottom of your garden shall perish…