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Creaming Spires: 4th Week MT

The relationship with your favourite bartender at the local pub inevitably changes after you visit him in a sex shop he works at. Yes, there’s a story here. In short, if I wanted to keep the ‘regular’ status in my chosen Oxford drinking hole, I had to pay a courtesy visit to one of them shady places where you never see anybody come in and, more importantly, you never see anyone come out. So off to Cowley I went to look at some dildos.

Don’t get me wrong; I love sex shops. The internet is great, but only in a shop can you poke and stroke before you buy. I mean, if it’s going to be inside me/on me/tying me/whatever else your filthy minds can come up with, I like to see it first. But usually I do that in classier London establishments and not in a part of town famed for public nudity and frequent arrests. Was I sceptical? Yep. Did I end up loving it? Oh hell yes.

The first thing that caught my attention was the sheer amount of pink and purple. Some toys even had flower patterns. The aim, my sex shop bartender explained, is to make them more approachable to women. Apparently a purple dildo the size of a wine bottle (seriously) is less terrifying in this colour. Personally I don’t like my vibrators pink and my handcuffs fluffy, but whatever floats your boat, ladies. The 50 Shades of Grey range didn’t appeal either, but expert opinion says that their after-spanking cream works wonders. Take note.

Just as I was exploring the penis pumps in morbid fascination, a young male walked in, shifted around, muttered something unintelligible about protein, and left. Clearly, the clientele ranges from the absolutely fabulous (me) to the weird. But I didn’t let that deter me; I just discovered the leather section and was too busy playing with collars. Leather ruler, anyone? I hear they’re brilliant for tutor-student role play. I also had to remind myself that if I want to eat for the next few weeks I really can’t spend £100 on a (beautiful, perfectly silent) vibrator.

Having a personal guide was great after all. Insider info was priceless — I never knew about the popularity of perfect ass replicas. And I never dreamt just how adventurous you are, naughty Oxonians. Only later I realised that now a man who regularly serves me pints knows all about my kinks. But if I had a penny for every person who learnt about them first hand, maybe I would be able to afford that vibrator… 

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