Given a lot of my life is spent being recorded, I thought for a change I might transcribe some conversations between myself and my boyfriend for a teasing insight into my present sex life and a hint of the more extreme stories and bedroom adventures that have come into being since committing to the one dick.

S: Fucking hell my vagina hurts.

E: What in a good way?

S: I think you were erring to the right yesterday. That particular lip seems to be sore when I’m sitting.

E: That’s a fucking good opening line for a play.

S: Better than ‘How’s your vage?’

E: As good as! Tell you what you could do, you could do your next blog post as dialogue.

S: That’s not a bad idea. Kinda like a script – a record of us chatting shit.

E: How’s your arse-hole by the way?

S: Very good all things considered.

E: There’s your next line.

S: I have to say, on reflection, in the words of Sun Tzu you picked the right strategy to get in there.

E: But how does it feel?

S: At the moment I’m desperate for a poo. It’s been three days and normally I’d welcome a bowel evacuation but given the charge you led last night I just know it’s gonna hurt so it’s clenched buttocks for me for the time being. Doing my best to delay the inevitable. Oh don’t look glum, at the time it felt good. You had the element of surprise so I didn’t have time to think about it which means I couldn’t freeze or squeeze as it were.

E: An astute general will strike thunder and lightning so that neither the ears nor eyes of his foe can be closed to them.

S: I really wish I knew what that actually meant.

E: It means…..well I was forceful enough so that your bumhole couldn’t keep me out.

S: In any case it worked. It’s been like, what, at least three months since we had anal sex.

E: Not for the want of trying.

S: Oh come on, that’s not my fault. I’m the one facing permanent sexual rejection.

E: Oh please, I never reject you. That’s so untrue.

S: Tis true. I still find you really attractive, I still get horny for you but you…

E: That’s not fair. I think you’re beautiful but this…situation isn’t great.

S: No it’s not. Anyway I better get on. Nothing like being on your hands and knees cleaning piss off the bathroom floor. It’s as close to a golden shower as I’m gonna get.

E: Stay while I finish my fag.

S: Nah no other idiot is going to clean this pig-sty before your son gets here.

E: I’m cooking Sunday dinner.

S: Yeah well cooking or having your hand down a toilet – you’ve not exactly drawn the short straw.

E: Why are you being mean?

S: I’m not being fucking mean. I have work to do.

E:You’re snapping at me.

S: What like a snapping turtle?

E: Exactly and you know how I feel about snapping turtles. I’ve told you what vicious creatures they are and the fucking damage they can do. If they got a hold of your finger…

S: YES I know you’ve told me all this before. Anyway if you hate snapping turtles so much why are you gonna marry one?

E: There’s no date set.

S: Fuck off. That’s a really shit thing to say. Why do you have to be so horrible?

E: I’m joking. Come on, you’re fucked off with Chris the cleaner not me.

S: Well it’s not funny.

E: Sorry.

S: Anyway how do you know it’s Chris that I’m cross about, it might be my sore right lip – and it does fucking hurt.

E: I’m sorry. What can I do to make it better?

S: (Laughs) Kiss it better!

E: I would.

S: I know.

E:  What can I do about it?

S: There’s nothing you can do about it.

E: What can you do about it?

S: There’s nothing I can do about it – it’s inflamed.

E: Maybe it needs something cool on it to reduce the inflammation.

S: Noooo I wonder if that isn’t what caused the problem. You were really rough with the Rowntree Fruit Pastille ice lolly thing.

E: Was I?

S: Yes! And it’s quite a chunky ice lolly. It has a fair girth on it.

E: You liked it.

S: Not really.

E: No?

S: Well I like the whole pain  pleasure thing but to be honest I was raped by Rowntree. It wasn’t like you were sliding it in slowly and for a brief time. You were pushing it in there – pounding it in me. And don’t forget I was blindfolded so it was a surprise – I wasn’t ready for it and it’s not like you only did it the once.

E: I forgot about that. I’m a master of improvisation. Tying your sports bra round your eyes was inspirational on my part.

S: Or you coulda just got the proper blindfold .

E: I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even find the toy box.

S: It was in the bottom of the cupboard.

E: I thought you kept it in the top of the cupboard.

S: No after our drug fuelled sex marathon when we made all kinds of promises about fucking filthily once a week and having more sex in general I thought it’d be easier if I moved the box down from the top cupboard. Presuming we’d be having LOADS of sex.

E: Only the cupboard doors are broken so I would literally have to have ripped them out to get into the cupboard and then dug it out from under the shoes and clothes. Yeah that’s conducive to spontaneous sex.

S: Given the state of our sex life it was all a bit premature on my part. I was a fool to believe your words in the Gogaine haze.

E: Oh right so blindfolding you, shoving an ice lolly in your cunt and fucking your arse without warning while I made you vibe yourself doesn’t constitute filth in your books?

S: Put like that…

E: AND there were no drugs involved.

S: Yeah it was good old fashioned sex.

E: I’m sorry it was so vanilla for you.

S: It was anything but vanilla. It was one of the most enjoyable blow jobs I’ve ever given. I loved that you rubbed the ice lolly over the head of your cock. It tasted well nice. I didn’t even have to worry about whether your cock was clean or cheesy – the sugar rush sent me into sensory overdrive.

E: Did my cum taste as nice?

S: Ahhhh your cum always tastes nice. Except for that one time when I had an allergic reaction.

E: Oh yeah in the cottage – you said you had to go to the kitchen at 4 in the morning and get some custard to ease your throat.

S: Anything to ease the stinging sensation. That was horrible. Fuck knows what you’d been eating that night…except you weren’t really eating at that point were you? Some stiff spirit squirting down the back of my throat.

E: I’m sure the sperm diluted it for you. It didn’t stop you coming back for more.

S: Well you were starving me out at the time. You were bed ridden so you never fed me. I was desperate for the protein.

E: You’re not short of a meal now and you seem to still drink it was gusto.

S: The things we do for love.

E: Oh come on I don’t force you to do anything.

S: What?!?! Oh my god your art of seduction involves pushing my head down to your crotch when I try and give you a cuddle. It certainly ain’t subtle and resistance is most definitely futile.

E: You love it when I throat fuck you.

S: Yeah but not when I can’t breathe.

E: Oh you love it. You beg for it. Literally. One sniff of the poppers up each nostril then it’s all ‘deeper and deeper’.

S: Shut up.

E: You said it turns you on when you’re choking on my cock. You actually fucking orgasm when I thrust into your mouth. Properly orgasm. What woman can do that? You’re like a real life version of ‘Deep Throat’.

S: Okay, okay. Yes I like it when you throat fuck me but not all the time. Not when I’m on the verge of vomiting on your cock. Like literally when lunch pops back up.

E: Oh that I definitely like.

S: So my basically my bariatric surgery gone wrong has been a positive in the bedroom department. The fact that I now have gastroesophageal reflux disease and a gastric band that doesn’t work and I spew after almost every meal is a good thing.

E: Yeah I like you refluxing away while I hold your head and pull your hair.

S: And my arms flail and I feel I’m about to die and start worrying about what you’ll tell my mum and dad.

E: It’s not that bad.

S: I’m just glad that £6000 is considered money well spent.

E: That £6000 means I get a  little warm chunky vegetable soup-like hug on my cock when you blow me.

S: In fairness you do time it right. You exert just the right amount of pressure and deprive me of just enough oxygen to panic me but not kill me. It’s actually very sexy. But I don’t think spewing is glamorous. That can be tiresome and it happens loads. Your cock is bigger than you credit it.

E: What this little thing?

S: Seriously when I washed it with that tar soap the other night, because you were prodding round my throat straight away I could taste soap at the back of my throat all night. It was dry in the morning. I thought I was gonna need to tuck into your ‘Lockets’.

E: ‘Soothers’.

S: Whatever. It was like an adult version of punishing me for being a potty mouth. And I’m not talking about my excessive swearing.

E: Fucking cunt bitch! You’re not going to bring that up again are you. The greatest sexual miscommunication of all time.

S: There’s a reason why ‘Mudshute’ is my favourite stop on Docklands Light railway.

E: I thought it was what you wanted me to do!

S: When have I ever given the slightest inclination that I’m into that. I ain’t no Scatman.

E: Look I genuinely thought it was what you wanted. You know my feelings about this. I did think it a weird request but I don’t like to decline an invitation, let alone have you thinking I’m rejecting you when you’re are your most vulnerable or be accused of not being sexually adventurous. I was actually really uncomfortable doing it.

S: So was I when I had a brown fountain falling on my face. I mean you served up a substantial meal that night but it was a hell of a lot more unappetising that your poison drunk cum. That sex dinner was psychologically traumatising. Is it any wonder I’m at the fucking therapist’s once a fortnight. That said I do feel I dealt with that particular mishap in a gracious way.

E: Yes S, your bedroom manners were unsurpassed I’ll grant you that. You are truly an elegant slut.