A Pencil In My Assbylittlefatfuckwit©
I was 18 years old before I discovered the fun of playing with my ass. I don't think I really thought about what it meant. I just really enjoyed it.
I remember getting this funny feeling of sexual lust one day and getting really excited about playing with my ass that night in bed. Up until that point I had really only fondled my ass in the shower. I'd take much longer than I needed to clean my bum hole and I'd rub it as I wanked my cock. It felt so good and fresh and gave this added buzz and made me shoot my load harder and further and it was great.
But on this occasion I had to do something new. I was a bit squeamish about putting my finger in my ass and I sort of knew from my ass rubbing in the shower that I'd need some lubricant anyway.
I went to bed a little early that night – no-one in the household took any notice but I felt very conspicuous about it. I was acutely conscious of the extreme deviancy of what I was going to do.
Perhaps as I was spared a religious upbringing (or perhaps just because of the way I think and feel about things) I didn't have any shame or guilt about my lust for my own asshole but I certainly felt spectacularly embarrassed about it.
I always slept with just a pair of jocks on. I was never a pyjamas sort of guy. As soon as I got into my room I hurriedly stripped down to my jocks.
I was feeling so horny about the idea of playing with my ass. My heart was racing and I felt my cheeks flush red in lust and embarrassment. I was so excited. I didn't feel like I was doing anything wrong or bad but I would have been mortified if a single soul knew anything about it.
About the same time of my life I saw my first girl's nipple. I was sitting next to Samantha Gilbert and I glanced over to see her shirt slightly parted between the buttons. It wouldn't have been visible front on but at right angles I could just see her dark nipple against her beautiful white skin (nearly 20 years later I can still see it clear as day).
My dick was instantly hard as hell but it was not so much the physical reaction as the barrage of feelings it created inside that were so strong. It was such a shock. It was so raw and graphic. It was the most hard core thing I'd ever encountered. It was such a beautiful experience. That night I came hard, quick and voluminously with Samantha Gilbert's nipple etched into my mind. It was a wonderful, exciting exposure to something new. The sight of a real woman's nipple in real life.
And it felt like that all over again when I was in my room alone planning to touch my ass. In both cases it was such a big secret. I mean you couldn't just say to Samantha Gilbert, "Nice nipple there Samantha." I mean people would think I was a pervert peeking into her shirt like that. I felt like a pervert I can tell you. I did feel it was a bit wrong to spy on her like that but at the same time it was the greatest sexual bonus of my life to that point.
So it was a very secret and very sexual thing. Just like my plan to touch my ass. You didn't even admit masturbating to anyone much less touching your ass – I mean that would be the horror of horrors to become known.
My nervousness meant that my dick was not hard but nor was it limp either. I didn't want to take off my undies in case someone came in (not that that was very likely) but I wasn't ready top jump under the covers either. I was enjoying standing there in my room alone, knowing I was going to be doing something very taboo and very arousing very soon.
I walked around my bedroom just to get the feel of my dick jiggling in my jocks. I used my hands to fondle my ass cheeks and pulled them apart to stretch my bum hole. I grabbed my ass cheeks closer and closer to my asshole and I got more and more desperate to touch my rosebud itself. My cock got harder and harder.
I felt so kinky doing this outside the protection of being under the covers in my bed. Walking around with a hard dick, lusting after my asshole all exposed in the open like that.
It felt so good. So naughty. So nice.
I was getting really turned on and now my dick was hard, hard, hard. I was so lustful to touch my ass but I didn't want to get smelly fingers.
I stood with my legs apart and grabbed my undies from behind and pulled them up into my ass crack. Oh, the sensation on my asshole was incredible. A tiny moan escaped my lips. Oh magic! I'd found a way to rub my ass without having to get my fingers smelly. And pulling my jocks up in my bum crack also tightened them against my cock.
I used my right hand to pull my undies into my crack over and over and over. Each time I marvelled at the feeling it generated on my asshole and revelled in the movement it caused my dick.
Then I saw a pencil next to my desk and I walked over with my undies still jammed in my crack and it was wonderful with every step. I bent over and picked it up – at that point really just to get the feel of bending over with my undies up my ass – and then it hit me like a lightening bolt. The thought of putting that pencil in my ass exploded into my mind and reverberated through my body and into my cock and ass.
My mouth went dry with the realisation that I would do it. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I can honestly say at that moment I was in a higher state of anticipatory sexual excitement than just before the first time I got laid (not to disparage that moment either).
Suddenly standing there in my room with my dick rock hard, my undies up my ass crack and the pencil in my hand I felt very exposed to being caught. Gripped equally by lust and terror I quickly sat on the edge of my bed and got my dick out. I grabbed it with my left hand and squeezed it around the shaft and pulled it slowly outward.
To my delight I was rewarded with an instant glob of clear, shining pre-come. With my right hand I put the end of the pencil into the pre-come and twisted it around to get some of it on the shaft of the pencil. As I did so the cold shaft of the pencil against my cock was making me all the more aroused.
Bringing that object, the humble HB pencil, into my sex life seemed such a kinky thing to do. The idea opened up a whole array of ideas that I couldn't really comprehend at the time.
I quickly grabbed a trusty white T-shirt that I knew didn't show come stains up, got under the covers, turned off the bedside lamp and ever so protectively preserved the pencil and its precious cargo of self made lubricant from coming into contact with the sheets or my body.
It was awkward to try get my undies off one handed and at the same time preserve the precious pre-come but eventually I was ready. I lay on my back with my knees up creating a tent under which I could freely move the lubed pencil.
My cock was rock hard and I knew if I started wanking it I'd come almost straight away. I resisted the temptation.
I had the pencil in my right hand and I brought my knees up against my chest. As I did so I felt the cool air against my asshole and I knew there was nothing between it and my lubed pencil.
My left arm was at my side and I used my hand to grab my ass cheek and pull my ass further open. This had the desired effect of making my little asshole feel even more exposed.
In my mind my lust and emotions raged.
I felt an acute sense of privacy. This was something I was doing entirely for myself. Something completely personal. Something I wanted – in fact something I needed – to be my own big secret.
There was also a gigantic sense of looming sexual awakening. With this pencil I was plunging into a new world of completely unknown delights the scope of which I couldn't fathom. I was on the edge of a giant unknown and about to take a great leap.
The door was shut and there was virtually no precedent of being interrupted after I'd gone to bed. Even if it did happen they'd knock first. All I had to do was bring my knees down and there'd be nothing out of the ordinary for them to see. I was holding the pencil. I had chosen to be in the position I was in. I was in control of everything I was doing.
Despite all these facts I was completely and utterly at the whim of my lust. I wanted this and I wanted it so, so bad. There was no way it wasn't going to happen. I was utterly powerless against the raging desire hammering throughout my body and soul.
The extreme lewdness of it (to me at the time I didn't think anyone else had ever thought to do such a thing a shove a pencil in their own ass for the fun of it), the ultra taboo, the crushing embarrassment of acting out this perverse behaviour were all swept aside with the slightest flick of a little finger of the immensity of the sexual energy boiling inside me.
I reached around my right ass cheek and lined up the pencil, planning to touch the tiny dollop of pre-come right onto my rosebud. But I missed by about an inch as the now cold pre-come was wasted between my hole and my tightly scrunched balls.
I thought it would now be too dry to get into my ass but I moved the pencil down and after a bit more probing soon had the end of the pencil right at my anal opening and it was still slippery and felt great. Oh, to touch my asshole like that was such bliss. There was so much more sensitivity than using my finger in the shower
As I rubbed and probed around my asshole the sensations were as powerful as rubbing my cock. I began to conceive of my asshole as a sexual organ in its own right and the revelation was staggering.
I was anxious about putting it in. I didn't know what would happen. I was worried it might hurt or do me some sort of harm (I actually even wondered if I could catch AIDS – which was a new disease in those days). So I ever so gently applied a little pressure and to my surprise it went in easily.
It was only in about one centimetre and I could feel my sphincter muscles claming hard against the cool hardness of the pencil. I felt my balls tighten, hugging even more closely to my body, aching to be sucked inside and squirt out their load.
My dick was already rock hard but there was a jolt of pleasure that ran up it and I could feel the whole surface area of my cock as it pointed up between my legs. I was no longer in my room or anywhere else. I no longer had any identity that mattered. I was just my hands and my sex organs (which now included my asshole). The rest of the world did not exist.
I didn't know what to do next. Should I push it in further?
Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly I eased it further in. And as every tiny millimetre went in wave after wave of sexual pleasure coursed through me. I was staggered at how much I was getting off on it. I was captive to the utter delight it gave me.
From the intensely magnified sensations of penetration I assumed that half the length of the pencil was up my ass. But as I hit some resistance I realised that the pre-come lube had run out – I had only lubed it for about the first 3 or 4 centimetres of its length.
I used my left hand to test the distance between my right hand on the outside end of the pencil and the opening of my ass and realised that it probably was only 3 or 4 centimetres inside me. I could have sworn it was almost all the way in by now.
The sensation of pushing it in my ass had been so wonderful that I had to try it again. I pulled it most of the way out until I could feel the clamping tightness of the band of sphincter muscles against the little rounded head of the pencil. Then I started to slowly feed it back in again.
It was every bit as special as the first time it went it. I did it over and over and over again. Every time I'd ease it in until it hit the resistance of the dry part of the shaft of the pencil but each time getting slightly further in.
Then I felt a cool drop of pre-come on my belly. My cock was starting to ooze. I couldn't believe my cock was oozing without being touched. I used my left hand to feel my balls as I kept using my right to slowly fuck my little asshole with the pencil.
My balls were sitting hard up against the shaft of my cock and my scrotum was tightly bunched up. I fondled my balls and sack and as it combined with the anal sensations I felt more pre-come dribble onto my belly.
I didn't think of getting the pre-come off my belly and onto my pencil or asshole because it would have involved touching my ass – which would make my fingers all smelly – or putting the pencil onto my belly or cock and I was sure it would have been all covered in shit by now.
I thought if I could twist the pencil around a bit I might get it further inside. That was a truly serendipitous moment. By twisting the hexagonal pencil inside my ass I generated the most tantalising sensations yet.
I started twisting it faster and faster and the pleasure began to radiate out and up into my cock and balls. I couldn't help making tiny little humping motions with my hips and I couldn't help the minutest sound, a tiny little, "ah" from escaping my lips. For a split second the real world came crashing back into my consciousness as my imagination magnified the sound loud enough to be heard by others in the house.
In that flash of reality I saw myself lying there with my knees up and my right hand reaching around and pumping and twisting the pencil in my tiny asshole. I saw my left hand reaching around and fondling my gonads. I saw my cock, hard, bulging veins and squeezing out drops of pre-come in little waves.
I saw myself as a captive of this perverse lust, out of control and it was all too much for me to cope with. I knew there would be no reckoning with this until after I came and restored some normality to my thinking and emotions.
Thinking of coming made me think of touching my cock and I just then had to do it. When I came I would always use my right hand to pull my dick and my left to hold up the sheets so I wouldn't get come on them as I shot a load onto my belly.
I was sure that the slightest ‘snail trail' of come on the sheets would be immediately recognised as evidence of masturbation and the idea anyone would know about it was mortifying.
So there I was in a terrible bind. I needed (and I mean NEEDED) my right hand to keep twisting the pencil around in my ass as it slowly worked its way further in. I also needed (again really NEEDED) to use my left hand to grab my cock and wank a nice big load of sperm onto my belly. But how could I hold the doona out of the way.
Reaching my left hand around my thigh and grabbing my cock was possible and I tried it but I just couldn't get enough access to really pull the shaft up and down hard and fast like I needed to. I lifted my left leg away from my belly so I could get my left hand around my dicks shaft properly. My dick was slippery slick and as wet as I'd ever made it by wanking. It felt so hot and wet and sexual.
But I was a bit uncoordinated at wanking with my left hand and my legs had a tremor I couldn't control and the doona started to slide down onto my cock. Before I could do anything I felt it brush against the wet tip of my dick.
I panicked and kicked the doona off my body to stop the pre-come getting all over it from my cock and sopping wet left hand. All of a sudden there I was naked and exposed in the cool air. I was hyper conscious of what it would look like if someone came in.
Naked: I should have underpants on – hared enough to explain.
My hard, slippery cock in my hand: Obviously masturbating – mortifyingly embarrassing.
A pencil in my ass: Oh, fuck no! Don't let anyone see that! Not that! Never!
Not so easy perhaps this time but the lust still smashed these concerns aside. I knew this wasn't going to end until I came.
I almost always straightened my legs out to come and I knew I was close. I threw my legs down – feet flat on the bed, knees still bent and lifted my hips in the air, pushing up and out. As I did so I had more room for my right hand to get at my ass because I could now reach under my hips instead of around my ass cheek.
But the change of position also shifted the angle of the pencil in my ass. When I had my knees on my chest I was coming at it from above and penetrating slightly downwardly. From underneath I was now penetrating from the back and pushing against the front wall of my rectum.
I didn't know what a prostate was then – indeed it would be many years before I would read about it. All I knew was that something happened inside my ass that was like a thunderous jolt of sextricity.
The pleasure of penetrating my ass, the pumping of my wet, wet hand up and down my slippery cock, the fact that my uncoordinated left hand made it so new and fresh, the joys of twirling that pencil in my ass, the incredibly powerful sense of nakedness and exposure of doing this all above the sheets out in the open air – all of these things combined to make this the most powerful moment of sexual pleasure I had ever felt – by a country mile.
But they were all dwarfed by what was happening deep in my ass – what I now know was the pencils contact with my prostate.
Now I haven't got a giant cock and giant balls and I don't usually shoot a giant load of come. But I did that day. The only light was leaking in from an outside street light so I couldn't see too well but I felt come shooting all over me.
Usually I'd come on my belly – not today. Today it shot all over my chest and a few drops even made it to my face.
Usually I'd shoot two or three main squirts and a few after oozes. Not today – today it was streaming like a fountain, pouring out with every pump of my squeezing fist.
I could actually hear the liquid squirting out of my cock and splashing onto my body. The sound was such a surprise.
Eventually the torrent subsided and I lay there panting loudly – a noise I slowly became aware of and tried to abate.
I was in a state of shock. I couldn't believe what had just happened. My asshole, the pencil, the copious pre-come, the slow joyous penetration, the twirling, the excitement, my exposed nakedness, the copious squirting come all over my upper body and that – whatever the fuck it was – that thing that happened inside my ass.
As my senses returned I was anxious to clean up so I wouldn't be found like this. My left hand was covered in come so I tried leaving the pencil in my ass and using my right to find the T-shirt. But as soon as I let go I felt the pencil start to slide out.
I realised I was in a new bind. I needed my right hand to hold the pencil in my ass but my left was so come drenched I wasn't happy to use it to grab at the T-shirt for fear of getting come on the sheets.
For a second the thought, "Oh, what the fuck have I just done?" flashed into my mind. But then I saw it from a different angle. And I answered that thought with, "I've just had the best orgasm ever, ever, ever." I had a little chuckle to myself, proud of what I had done. Proud of my deviancy, my smashing of the taboos, of exploring my ass, of finding the delights I had found. At the same time in awe of it all and a little afraid of what it all meant and might lead to. And so, so excited about the future and doing it again.
I managed to get myself pretty cleaned up with just my left hand - I couldn't believe how wet that T-shirt felt at the end of it all. Then I decided to confront the pencil still in my ass. I pulled it out and had a slight pang of longing as it left my asshole.
I was sure it would be encrusted with a thick layer of shit but as I held it up the silhouette looked just like a normal clean pencil. I had to turn the light on to see and found it was shiny from the pre-come but other than that looked fine. I dried it off on the T-shirt and there was the slightest brown mark but hardly anything at all. I put the pencil in the drawer of the bedside table for future reference (and I sure referred to it again – and again – and again.)