The Stories You Cannot Tell

Without getting in to too much detail, let me just say that I have VERY overbearing In-Laws. The are controlling, rude, over-protective and never take “NO!” for an answer.

That being said, here’s my story. I’ve decided to write it after laughing out loud at that last story of the smoking vibrator.

I have just bought myself a new toy after my last one finally burnt out. It had a good life, bringing me to the brink and then over the edge numerous times over the last year. Honestly I am suprised it had lasted that long- most of my vibes die a quick death.

The hubby is out, the kids at school and mom is home alone. I put on my slow jam playlist, put on my favorite dvd and I start enjoying my toy.

While I enjoy myself, my mother in law is in the middle of a full blown manic attack. Apparently I had made plans to drive her to see her Dr. No one had “informed” me so I had no idea. The ringers in the house were on low and my phone was off. Not that I was concerned with incoming calls, I was busy friggin myself with my new sex toy.

I’m busy working it, the mother in law is calling other relatives in town, working everyone up in a lather and being all dramatic. She calls her son at work but he’s at a seminar and unavailable. She calls my sister who of course not only doesn’t know where I am, but reminds the mother in law that I am NEVER late and NEVER forget appointments so something MUST be wrong.

That’s all my mother in law needed to hear. As I am reaching my second of numerous, deep in my soul orgasms, she is calling her eldest son, who happens to be a Captain at Fire Hall #6 right down the street.

By the time they roll a truck to my house, my mother in law has her son conviced I am in diabetic shock. The fire truck arrives at my house minutes later.

According to my neighbour Cheryl, five firefighters arrive on their shiny truck. My brother in law apparently pounded on my door for some time, as I lawy inside enjoying the sounds of R.Kelly while I ride my plastic penis. My music is loud, my moans are louder and in the middle of it all, I’ve got firefighters outside trying to find out if I am okay.

Cheryl my helpful, nosey neighbor calls my house, trying to see if I am inside. She tells me later she was YELLING my name. I tell you, I heard nothing other than my music and my orgasms.

What happened next has both damaged me for life and given me fantasy material for the rest of my days.

There I was lying on my belly grinding myself on top of my toy. I had worked myself into a frenzy so I rolled over to get more access. I open myself a little wider and really get to working it, not seeing the shadow outside my window.

As I watched myself twisting and thrusting the toy inside, I catch some movement in the upper corner of my eye. I scream as I see a firefighter outside my window, his hand cupped against the glass so he could see.

He yelled my name and asked my I was okay. I yelled back, “What the hell are you doing here!”

I rolled of the bed with my sheet wrapped around me. I quickly headed to my closet and threw on some sweats, then rushed downstairs. I threw open my front door to find 2 fire trucks with about 10 fire fighters, 1 police car with two cops and 6 of my neighbors. All wondering if I was okay. I was standing there, red faced and smelling like my own sex all because of my damn mother in law.

This was the worst day of my life yet when I play with myself sometimes, I picture the same fire fighter opening my window and joining my on the bed where I play with his hose and he quenches my fire.

If only it ended like that!

Need some better sex toys? check out these adult sex toys that will keep you satisfied!

I was tired of constanly having to play with the wire to get it to run. After months of use the wires had become lose or something. I was too embarassed to ask my husband to fix it, so I attempted to repair the lose wire myself.

After taking it apart I saw that one of the wires was almost pulled right out of the welded part. I had watched my computer-tech husband solder in the past, so I tried it myself. I removed the wires, cleaned the surfaces and heated up the soldering iron. After a few practice tries on a piece of wood, I was able to solder the wires back on. I re-assembled the vibrator, turned it on and it worked. I was so proud of myself although I really couldn’t boast about it.

So last night the hubby heads to poker night. I head to bed with B.O.B.(Battery Operated Boyfriend). I put on one of my favorite fake lesbian porno’s and begin to masterbate. Minutes later and I’m heating up, enjoying the lesbo-tongue action taking place on the screen.

As I am buzzing around my nether region, I feel the silver bullet getting warmer than I remember it ever getting. Thinking that perhaps I was overly stimulated thanks to my successful soldering-repair experience, I put it out of my mind.

As I think back to last night, I realize it was about 30 seconds after thinking that the vibrator was warm, that it got very hot to the point that I couldn’t hold it against even my lips, let alone my clit. I brought it closer to inspect it and realized that I actually might burn myself if I didn’t drop it.

So I did. There it sat on the blanket, buzzing. I checked the controls to see if maybe I had maxed out the speed. Usually medium was enough to satisfy me, anymore and my teeth would rattle. I’m sliding the speed switch up and down when I smell something burning. An electrical smell.

The silver bullet vibrator is smoking. In my panic to switch it off I slide it all tyhe way to maximum speed. Before I could turn it off the vibrator revved right up and stopped. A ribbon of smoke rose up from the bullet itself. I slapped it off the bed and on to the floor. I saw a little tiny flame and then poof, more smoke and a even more of that real nasty burnt smell.

As I sat there shocked, hundreds of thoughts raced through mymind. What if it was inside me and blew up? What would I tell the doctors. Imagine the pain! What would I tell Simon?

After I composed myself, I grabbed the vibrator and tossed it out. I still haven’t bought another one, but I have a new dildo. It looks real and it doesn’t smoke.

I don’t even have to tell you why this is a story I can not tell right?

p.s. Too bad these things don’t come with an extended warranty

I have never admitted this to anyone before but I guess this is the forum where I can hide behind anonymity. I love the smell of urine. I think maybe it stems from the excitement of masturbating in the stall of a public toilet where I could smell the urine from the unflushed urinal. I also love the smell combined with the aroma of Johnson’s Baby powder. I regularly put lots of baby powder onmyself in the morning after my shower and during the day I let small amounts of pee dribble into my underwear. Also, each time I go to the toilet and get the opportunity to sit down, I bend my penis down so that I am peeing on my scrotum. I then pull my underwear up without wiping it off. By the end of the day, I can take off my undies and sniff that wonderful smell while I masturbate. It has got to the point where I rarely jerk off without a pair of fragrant undies over my nose. I stoill go to public conveniences to masturbate while I get off on the smell. I have never heard nayone talk about this sort of thing before and am very interested to know whether there are others who have a similar obsession.
B

My secret confession concerns my abuse at the age of ten. I was a nice looking, slightly chubby boy and niave and friendly. I was staying with my grandparents at a holiday resort. My grandfather had hired a little rowboat for he and I to use for fishing. A family was staying in a villa opposite ours and I became friendly with some of the boys. Thay had a family friend staying with them, a man about 35 if I remember rightly. He was also very friendly and kind and one day when I wanted to go fishing and my grandfather couldn’t take me for some reason, this man offered to take me instead. It never occurred to me that it was strange that the other boys in his house were not coming too.

We went out in the boat and he was really nice to me. When we had been fishing for a little while, I used an expression I had heard the big boys in the other villa where he was staying. I said “you prick” when a fish fell off my hook as I got it close to the boat. He then asked me “do you know what a prick is?” I said no and he told me it was another name for a penis. He talked about the fact that all boys had a prick. and said he would show me his. He slid his penis, which looked very big to me, out the leg of his shorts and told me it was OK because we all have one. He told me to show him mine. I was a bit shy but used to doing what adults told me so I just poked it out the leg of my shorts as I wasn’t wearing any underpants. He said it was a beautiful prick and said that no one could see us out in the boat so I should slip my shorts down so he could see it properly. I knew something was naughty about it but he was very persuasive so I pulled my pants down to my knees. He gently felt me and said it was a beautiful prick. He asked me if he could kiss it and I said “OK” so he did. I don’t recall if he sucked or just kissed it. He then took my hand and said I could feel his. He got me to wrap my hand around it and move it back and forth. All the time he was stroking my little penis. I think I remember that he was erect and after a while he said he needed to pee and leant over and put his penis over the side of the boat. Years later,I later realised he was ejaculating into the water.

After this, he said I should pull my pants up and told me that if I ever told anyone about our “secret” he would kill me. I spent a few years in mortal fear and laden with guilt for what I had done without really understanding what had happened. As I’m sure a lot of people do, I buried memory of the event only to recall the detail years later. For some reason, and here is my secret, I am now aroused by the memory and regularly masturbate while recreating the event in my mind. I do not find children attractive and have no desire to abuse them as I know the trauma I experienced but am intrigued as to why that occurrence in my life has become a masturbatory fantasy.

Tags: child abuse secrets sexual fantasy

I find myself on the road allot. Sometimes I get the urge to have sex, but since I am not dating, I have to take matter into my own hands.
I pull my truck over and park somewhere, usually in a mall or shopping center. I drive a 5-ton truck, so I don’t look unusual sitting there. I lay my head back and masterbate, No one can see me, sitting high in my cab. I do my thing, then continue onfor the rest of my day.

Jarome I.
Calgary,Alberta

I was babysitting when I was younger, not too familiar with the art of self-pleasuring. I had put the kids to bed then turned on the TV. After watching some videos I realized that I was feeling kinda horny. So I started touching and rubbing myself. The faster I went, the better it felt. I was pushing and pushing, trying to get my orgasm out. I had never had one yet, and the more I rubbed and pushed, the more it felt good. I pushed a little hard until suddenly I felt wet through my jeans. I got even more excited, thinking I had just had my first orgasm. I went into the bathroom to try and dry off my jeans, only to find that I had actually pee’d myself. I didn’t have my first orgasm until years later.

B.F. in Akron