Every morning I perform my ritual of breakfast, newspapers and then heroic shit. I take both my mobile phones, the house phone and a book to the lavatory, settle myself down with the handsets splayed around, read the book, and let whatever is inside me pass freely forth. I am sure that all men would agree with me when I say that a good crap is the second best bodily function that a man can have.
So there I was, patiently waiting for my thing to happen when a text arrived on my kinky phone:
"R U the writer of spanking good life?"
I replied that I was and a flurry of texts were then sent backwards and forwards, with the girl on the other end eventually announcing that she felt "really sexy" and did I want to play? Before I had time to answer another text arrived with a number and the words "call me." Nice guy that I am I did just as I had been asked and got to speak to Sophie, who sounded like a mid-20s type of girl.
"I am wet," she told me without any preamble.
"Good," I replied. Have you got a toy?"
"Yes, my bullet vibrator - want me to use it?"
"Yes, imagine it's my cock, driving home inside you."
So off she went and from the sound she was making she was obviously having a great time.
"Can you hear me? I am doing it, " she squealed. "Are you playing with yourself?"
It was not my fault, ladies and gentlemen. It was the Devil's fault! He was sat by my side whispering wickedness into my ear, and doing things to my bowels. For just at that moment, a sphincter wrenching turd of monumental proportions began to leave my innermost workings and make its way out to the open air. I took a deep breath and prepared to experience the nearest equivalent that a man can have to the act of giving birth:
"Aaaah!"
"You are doing it! I can hear you! Me too!"
"Yeees," I roared as gravity took over and the arse widening turd began its descent into the bog bowl.
"I am loving this," Sophie yelped. "Tell me what you are doing."
" I am with you," the Devil made me mutter. "With you all the way, and ready to shoot."
"Come with me! Come with me! Let me hear you!"
I exhaled deeply and Sophie took that as a sign that I had shooting my load, and a minute or two later, and accompanied by a lot of squeals, she reached her moment of joy. Then without further ado she hung up and that was that!
To be honest I don't mind a bit - just so long as Sophie doesn't object if she reads this and discovers that instead of shooting my load I was actually dumping it.