Falling into a heap on the bed, I looked across at Mark and grinned.
‘Wow,’ I giggled. ‘It was worth coming back for seconds.’
As Mark caught his breath, I scanned the bed, looking for something.
But as the moments passed, I realised it was missing.I started to panic.
The trusty metal adult toy we’d been using was nowhere to be seen. I tried to subtly forage through the duvet, lifting each item of clothing in the hope I’d see the decorative gemstone sparkle in the dim light. But I couldn’t find anything.
I could have sworn he took it out of me, I thought. It hurt when it went in, but the pain stopped, so surely he’d taken it out? Scrambling to each side of the bed, I peered over the edge, wondering if the toy had dropped down in the heat of the moment.
‘Babe, what are you doing?’ Mark asked, sleepily. ‘Erm,’ I muttered. ‘Where did you put the toy?’
‘I thought you took it out,’ he stuttered. As our widened eyes locked, we both knew what had happened. ‘Oh my God, it’s still inside my bum!’ I cried.
Mark looked increasingly worried, as I let out an awkward laugh.
At that moment, I felt a growing, dull ache in my lower back. It felt like period cramps, but unsettlingly different.
I toyed with the idea of asking Mark to take a look but we were keeping things casual, and I worried he wouldn’t fancy me any more if we crossed that boundary.
So I decided it was a job for me and my housemate instead.

‘Right, time to go, babe,’ I said to Mark, as I threw on my red silk dressing gown.
‘Already?’ he replied. ‘I don’t think I should leave you.’
But I handed him his jacket, and shoved him out of the flat. As soon as the door shut I yelled to my housemate, then darted up the stairs and pounded on her door until she appeared.
Tash smirked as she looked me up and down, studying my tousled hair and smudged lipstick. ‘Looks like you had fun,’ she smiled.
‘There’s a metal toy stuck inside me,’ I blurted out.
She stared back at me in disbelief.
Tash laughed — and before I knew it, the two of us were doubled over.
Then I felt a pang of pain in my stomach, jolting me back to reality. ‘Right, don’t panic,’ she said, as she reached for her phone to search for advice online.
The next 30 minutes I spent trying to get it out felt like a lifetime, as I became more hot, stressed and flustered with every push. At first, I was sitting on the toilet, but before long I was squatting in a warm bath and making noises resembling a dying animal. 
We kept laughing, but a sense of dread hung over me — and soon Tash decided it was time to ring 111.

‘You have what stuck inside you?’ the call handler asked. I could tell she wanted to laugh.  Mortified, I couldn’t help but chuckle before she giggled in response.
‘You need to get to A&E as quickly as you can,’ she warned. ‘You can really damage your sphincter trying to push it out yourself.’ I shot a look of fear at Tash as the call handler’s voice echoed through the bathroom.
This isn’t happening, I thought, as I booked myself a taxi. How did a bit of saucy fun land me in A&E?
I texted the girls’ group chat to distract myself, as I sat like a stiff board, going over every speed bump in the cab. They all found it hilarious.
Soon I arrived at A&E. ‘It says here you have a foreign object, what is it?’ asked the receptionist loudly. I responded in a whisper: ‘A metal sex toy.’
But she asked me to repeat myself, and I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
I was whisked to a small room, where I was met by a kind-faced male nurse.
‘At least it’s something that’s meant to go up there,’ he joked, as we roared with laughter. ‘You should see some of the stuff we’ve had before.’
He took me for an X-ray, then an hour later, I was taken down another hospital corridor into a small room behind a curtain. ‘Right,’ boomed the doctor, as she landed on the chair opposite me. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to get that out.’
She twisted a monitor to face me, revealing an X-ray image of my pelvis — with the familiar metal toy I bought online all those years ago staring back at me. My hand flew to my mouth in disbelief.

‘The toy is far out of reach,’ the doctor explained. ‘The safest and most comfortable route would be to surgically remove it.’ A wave of panic swept through my body.
I’d never had surgery before — and people had told me horror stories about the risks of general anaesthetic for bigger girls like me.
‘Am I going to die?’ I thought to myself, as my mind immediately fixated on the worst-case scenario. ‘I don’t have any phone signal to tell my family I love them.’
I hoped for a miracle as nurses began prepping me for surgery.
But then, something distracted me. My mouth dropped open, as in walked in the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life. ‘This is Joshua,’ said the surgeon, as he introduced the guy, who resembled a ’90s heartthrob. ‘He’s a trainee doctor here on placement.’
I got lost in his baby-blue eyes — before being overcome with embarrassment, as I realised he and his wavy gold locks were looking right in the direction of my backside.
Now there were four medics in the room, and they were about to get to know me very intimately.
I heard the distinct snap of latex gloves from behind me, as the surgeon told me to relax, before being hit with an excruciating stab of pain.
I was clutching on to the gas and air mouthpiece and panting on my hands and knees, as the surgeon searched for the toy. ‘Give me an epidural,’ I begged.  I felt like I was giving birth.
I stupidly made eye contact with the beautiful doctor, as I let out a wail of pain.
This is mortifying, I thought to myself. Talk about a bum deal! By the time the toy finally reappeared, I was screaming in agony. 
‘You did it,’ shouted the kind nurse. ‘You did really well.’ Shellshocked, I stared at the metal toy glistening under the bright, clinical lights.
‘Do you want to keep it?’ the nurse asked. ‘No way! Destroy it,’ I said. ‘I never want to see that thing again.’

I slowly shuffled out of the hospital, feeling tender and looking red-faced. As I hopped into the taxi home, I texted Mark. You owe me dinner! I wrote.
Since then, I’ve relished watching friends roar with laughter as I tell my cautionary tale, and Mark and I still enjoy a giggle about it too.
Now the embarrassment has faded — slightly — I want to tell women not to shy away from awkward trips to the doctors.
They see embarrassing things all the time — and you never know, your doctor might also look like a young Leonardo DiCaprio!

 By Gigi Chapman, 34, Manchester

● Mark’s name has been changed.