Exploring in the Attic

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My gayness didn’t come out easily and it is still pretty well hidden, even though I’ve done just about everything a gay man could do… to himself.

That shyness might be normal for teenagers. I don’t really know. I’m not fully out of the closet today, 25 years after this happened – the story I’m about to tell you.

If you haven’t read my last story, do it now. It sets up what happened next.

We came back from LA that summer and, let’s say, I had a new perspective on things. Not people. I was and still am too shy for that. But things. Long, hard things. This is the story of how I learned to love receiving anal. More precisely, it is the story of how I learned to fuck myself in the ass like a porn star.

I was 18 years old, thin and somewhat lean, with a moppy head of black hair. It was the hottest part of the summer so I didn’t wear much around the house, but then again I barely left my bedroom. My bedroom was in the attic which usually ran 10-15 degrees hotter than everywhere else but I never left. I didn’t spend all my time there because I loved the heat. I spent all my time there because it was the only place I could find peace and quiet, away from my sister, her friends, and the constant nagging about what I was going to do about college.

Earlier that summer, we visited some schools as a family. Nothing left much an impression on me except for the time I fingered my asshole while jerking off next to a sleeping tourist in a sauna in LA. That left a mark. And a taste in my mouth. I remember sucking the cum from my fingers while my naked sauna-mate slept beside me. I remember my asshole pulsating around my finger as I came. I remember the musky exhaustion and the thirst I felt deep in my bones for more. More cock. More cum. And something more to stretch my less-than-virgin hole to its limits. But we were on a family trip so I couldn’t do much more than fantasize.

So isveçbahis the attic, as hot as it was, gave me a place to be myself and to explore all these new sensations.

My first insertion was a pencil, eraser-end first. I thought it looked like a tiny cock. No lube, nothing. I remember laying on my side with my legs bent up in a fetal position, my arm reaching behind me, probing the area around my asshole with the tip of the eraser. It tickled. I felt every tiny movement as the eraser circle around my anus. I inserted it gently. Not too deep at first, just enough that I could explore the feeling. The sliding felt intoxicating. I breathed as deeply as I could and fell into a dreamlike trance, feeling the length of the pencil penetrate me over and over again.

My cock was raging hard. A drip of precum oozed out. I would normally jerk off with my right hand, but that hand was now busy fucking my ass with a pencil. A smooth, hard, and ever-so-beautiful pencil.

I left the pencil alone there, in my asshole for a moment, so I could reach around and grab my cock. Using my right hand, I squeezed hard, pushing all of the precum out into the fingers of my left hand, pinching it up so I could taste it. It was just as I remembered from the sauna. Slippery, slightly sweet. I licked my hands wet and stroked my dick some more, arching my back to feel the pencil shift inside me.

I got up on my knees, careful to respect the object protruding from my ass. I stroked as hard as I could. More precum, licked off and I got the idea to spit in my hand and then onto my dick. It was so slippery. I licked again, tasting a mixture of my own spit, precum, and the salty taste of my dick. It was boiling hot in the attic and sweat was dripping down my chest. Stroking harder still, my breath began to rattle and my stomach quivered as my hot cum shot across the attic floor in front of me, wasted on the dirty, dusty isveçbahis giriş floor. I should plan more carefully next time, I thought.

It wasn’t enough. I needed to feel more. My ass wanted more. Luckily, I was in an attic full of lots of long, hard objects. I only had a few weeks left before the school year started, but I would make the most of it. I learned to use lotion and then vaseline as lube. I had to be careful when jerking off. If I wanted to eat my own cum, I’d have to keep the lotion and vaseline off my hands.

Next up (my ass, pun intended) was the handle of a mop, the detachable kind. I remember riding it like a boy would ride a broomstick, pretending it was a horse, except this horse was fucking me in the ass while I was stroking my dick like a madman. It went much deeper than the pencil. As deep as I could go. Probably too far, but that feeling of a hard rod in my ass was almost better than the feeling of having an orgasm.

I would cum more carefully, into a shotglass or somewhere on my own body. I experimented with self-facials, the hot, sloppy splatter falling all over my eyes, mouth, and neck. If I caught my cum in a glass, I would sometimes use it as lube, tasting it and adding more cum to the cup. Eventually I would lose self-control and pour it all across my face and down my throat.

My favorite toys included an old Atari 2600 joystick handle, just because it already had so many good memories, the handlebars of a bicycle, complete with a very pronounced hand-molded grip, and a the beefy handle of a spackling tool that must have been 2″ in diameter. In total, there must have been 10 or 15 objects I used, from a screwdriver to a flashlight. Everything except that beefy handle slipped in so easily, as if my asshole was begging to be torn open.

I had mastered the self-facial and would regularly fuck my asshole with one of the smaller objects, legs in the isveçbahis yeni giriş air or walked down the wall above my head. I fucked myself like this while cumming into my own mouth, imagining that I was in some gay orgy and men were throwing me around, spraying me with their cum.

But the handle took focus and concentration. And a lot of lube. One evening I came onto the handle and sucked it off the same way I wish I could’ve sucked off my sauna friend earlier that summer. I wish I had touched him. He wouldn’t have known. I was afraid of acting on any of these feelings, of finding a real cock. I hated myself for my cowardice, then fucked myself harder. It was this self-hate that allowed me to finally get the handle all the way into me, to get over the fear of hurting myself. Turns out it didn’t hurt at all. It filled me with a pleasure so deep and full, I almost came with a half-mast cock. So much precum oozed out. It felt like the handle was swelling all the way through my asshole and into my cock. I spun the handle and wiggled it around, feeling its girth inside me.

I want to tell you more, but I need to stop and jerk off. I want a cock inside me so badly. Here. Now. In my living room in my apartment in San Francisco as I’m writing this story to you on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon. I’ve never touched a cock other than my own. It’s been 25 years since that blissfully hot summer of self-discovery, but I’m a coward and this has been my life. Insertions and eating my own cum. It all started in that attic, with a pencil.

I may write again, but I’m not sure. I want to tell you about my cross-dressing, trying to suck my own dick, jerking off in public, and all the near-misses I had in college, too shy to pull the trigger when men hit on me. I want someone to write me, to tell me what they want to do to me. To tell me about their cock with enough detail that I can imagine sucking it. In the morning, in the shower, in the car, whenever and wherever you want. We can even suck and fuck each other while we read stories on , just like I imagine you are doing now. Hopefully you are stroking yourself, thinking of me.

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