I wank about come. A lot. I imagine it spattering over my face and tits. I visualize it shooting inside me. Sometimes, I’ll star in my own mental bukkake movie; men – and women – squirting their sex juices over me in the ultimate validation of my desirability.

When my arse is in a welcoming mood – something I wish was a more regular thing – I relish the moment that my lover comes inside me; cock-pulsing warmth filling me in the most intimate and taboo way. But it’s after he’s withdrawn that I enter another zone. When the ache soothes – I’ve still not mastered painless anal but I am learning to convert the pain into pleasure – I feel the come inside me. I feel it trickling out of me and my pussy warms of its own accord, clit crying out for attention. His come is a physical reminder of the intimacy we’ve shared; the love that we’ve made. Read the rest of The Cage.