When I was a kid I always used to say if I could suck my own dick, I’d never leave the house. But now that I’m older and I’ve come to terms with how disgusting that would actually be, I can honestly say, if I could suck my own dick, I’d never leave the house.
Ever since I was little, I was always a horny kid.
I remember being like twelve years old and masturbating every 15 minutes. That’s how my family kept time. We didn’t have any clocks. “What time’s dinner?”
“As soon as Stephen’s finished jerking off.”
I masturbated everyday, everywhere — in every room — even in the attic and on the roof. If you held a black light over my house chances are you’d be able to see it from outer space. “Hey, look it’s New York!”
“No. That’s Steve Schneider’s house. It’s covered in cum.”
I think the most exciting part of my adolescence was when I began exploring other ways to get off. (Have an orgasm). At some point plain masturbation became sort of boring. I wanted to feel what it really felt like to have sex with a woman. So I began taking on sexual partners that were known around my house for being inanimate objects.
Things started to disappearing. “Stephen! Where’s that Cantaloupe I just bought? I was gonna cut it up for dessert.”
“I have no idea, Mom.” Meanwhile, my balls are covered with seeds and I’m walking through my front yard, sprinkling them out through the cuffs of my pants like I’m in Shawshank.
I wasn’t the only weirdo, though. My friends would brag to me all about the red-hot affairs they were having with their remote control or lunch meat. We were total players. One friend once told me he fucked a birdhouse. I don’t even understand that. What did the neighbors think? “Honey, what the hell is Jimmy doing over there? Those poor birds.”
I would NEVER stick my penis in a birdhouse. I’d be afraid the bird would take off with it and feed it to it’s young. But I did have sex with other stuff. Once (when I was really desperate) I screwed a pair of flip-flops.
But the weirdest thing I ever had sex with by far was my brother. I’m kidding. It was my couch. Like that’s any better. Well, actually it is.
My parents had this couch in the living room that was fucking gorgeous. Italian leather with soft buttery skin. The back of the couch had these two supple cushions that met to form a small crack that you could stick you penis into. I know what you’re thinking- awesome, right?
The only problem (other than it being a couch) was that it was right up against a mirrored wall so you had to watch yourself face to face as you performed this heinous act. “Squeal couchy! Squeal!”
But other than that, it was pure beauty, man. Some of the best sex I’ve ever had.
I even went down on it once. But I quickly realized this was a terrible idea when I came up with a mouth full of coins and popcorn kernels stuck to my face. Made like three bucks though.
One time right as I was climaxing, I heard my mom’s bedroom door open. I must’ve been too loud. Because the couch never made any noise. I pulled out — but it was too late. I already came. There was a mess everywhere – all over the couch, all over me and my mom was already on her way down the stairs. I quickly pulled boxer shorts up and stuck my back against the crack, which was…gross.
My mom came down in her nightgown and was like, “What’re ya doin, honey?”
“I’m just fucking the shit out of this couch, ma. You wanna get in on this action?”
Yeah right. I wish I said that. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her. She would never accept me for who I was. I had to keep it a secret. I played it off, “Nothing. Just watching TV.” She came over to me and my heart dropped. I thought ‘what are you doing?’ ‘Stay back.’ But she kept approaching. I was sure she was gonna notice and then tell my father and then my father would punish me by sending the couch away.
But what happened was way worse. While I was sitting there – covered in my own semen, cum dripping down my back — she leaned down and gave me a kiss – ON THE MOUTH and she told me SHE LOVES ME…and I told her I LOVE HER TOO! Ahhhhhhhh! Incest. I basically had sex with my mother. My Dad was gonna kill me. I needed to go to jail. I wanted help. But instead, she just walked back off to bed and I sat there staring into the endless abyss of my dismal future and thought to myself, ‘I think I’m ready to go again.’
Eventually, I went away to college and started having sex with humans which was different. I still think about the couch every now and then. Whenever there’s a furniture commercial on or a Pottery Barn magazine gets delivered, I’ll get hard. What? It’s a good magazine.
Through all the awkwardness and after everything is said and done, I have my couch to thank for helping me understand the true meaning of what it is to “sit down and take a load off.”
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