I'm Not into Scatology

But a fact of life in living with a butt plug in my rectum is having to deal with the brown stuff...

In other words, I don't really like having to deal with bowel movements, but it is a natural part of being a physical being (in a human's case another mammal on this planet). But there it is. And I don't like the occasional times when I have to deep clean my butt plug. I use a boroscilicate plug (laboratory grade glass), which is strong and dependable, but which will shatter into a million pieces if I drop it onto a hard tile floor. I don't fear that my butt plug will suddenly break from the pressure of me wearing it and moving around freely, even running or playing tennis, riding a bicycle, or sitting on hard surfaces. I prefer this because of two strong reasons. First, cleanup is easy and thorough, and if I want I can sterilize the plug in the dishwasher. I could microwave it if I wanted a hot plug going into my ass (I don't). The point is the borosilicate material is ideal for butt plugs. The best, though I've never found a perfectly designed butt plug in metal is medical grade stainless steel. The second reason glass or steel is best is because, unlike silicon plugs, my plug does not absorb butt odors, shite odors and does not stain over time. 

Back before glass and steel plugs, and really before silicon plugs, I actually had a rubber plug that I wore all the time, or as long as I could stand it before it rubbed my anal opening raw or irritated it. It was a flesh pink when I first got it, but it became a kaleidoscopic pattern of colors in the pink to tan spectrum, and it began to peel away like old skin. It was a sad day when I threw it into the trash, and it was actually ten or so years before I found the newer plugs and kept trying out the various materials and designs until I happened onto the Devi plug (or the Icicles #14) which I have now had for ten years. I've got a back up one in case I drop the one that now resides in my rectum. 

I know that many guys who are into wearing plugs have a much wider range of sizes and styles than I do. But once my plug is slammed home in my rectum, and it's so comfortable with or without lube that I can actually forget it's there, I see no reason to keep messing with the plug or changing it out or stretching my anus. I'm not training to take big cocks. Even when my husband and I were living in the same state, rather than this new arrangement where our jobs keep us apart, we never had anal sex. We just 69-ed and drank each other's cum. In fact, for at least four years when I started living plugged, he had no clue that I was plugged when were were sucking each other off in bed. He has an even greater aversion to anal than I ever had. No. I'd rather keep a hard glass plug in my rectum than have a man's cock in my ass. I know...it's unimaginable when you might live for getting fucked. I don't. I live for having a plug in my rectum, for an entirely different universe of reasons, other than sex and ejaculation.

In this blog in other posts in the comments, I've discussed the idea with at least one of my readers that I no longer have to remove the plug even after I masturbate and ejaculate. My anus throbs for awhile after I cum, but I've incorporated that feeling into my edging. I edge, as I have said 24/7/365. Much of it is subconscious, of course, since even for hours at a time, I forget that I'm plugged...really...and actually have to feel the bit of ring that sits just between my butt cheeks. Or of course, I can squeeze my muscles and feel the sphincter close around the one-inch-diameter shaft.

This is one of those nights when I couldn't get to sleep. I worked in the yard for four days straight and have been hitting the sack around 9 or 10, which I did tonight, as well. But my libido kicked in, as I tossed and turned feeling the plug in my rectum and my cock twerking like it was performing on America's Got Talented Cock. So I got up, took a piss outdoors in the dark between my house and my neighbor's house, and turned my computer back on. I decided I'm going to ramble.

I think back to when I was a pre-pubescent kid and learned to masturbate from an older boy. I didn't have any "jizz" when I reached a climax, but I sure "got the feeling" that he talked about when he showed me how to jack off. After that, I was a fiend, and decided that every time I had to piss I would also jack off afterwards, and in the months that followed I experimented with places, positions, and standing over a hand-held mirror and watched myself from below my balls. And then when I started getting semen, I probably coated every square acre of the farm I grew up on with my cum. You have total freedom on a farm and can get away with jacking off while you're driving a tractor or walking the row-beds and chopping weeds, or skinny dipping in the irrigation pond. And correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like every farm boy I ever knew was into their cocks and taking them out and playing with them when we were together, and sometimes even experimenting with sex with each other, before most of them finally got girl friends. 

I simply wouldn't trade growing up on a farm for anything in the world, despite the many lonely days, even during the summer when we were expected to work the farm with our dads and forego those summers just playing, with no real jobs as teenagers. I had work to do every day of the year on the farm. We had crops and cows, and chickens, and pigs, and rabbits that had to be attended to. We also had dogs and cats, and despite having sisters, I was the only son, and so I had to work as soon as I got home from school. My sisters did, too, of course, but it was mostly household duties.

So when I was a teenager and on into college and even in the military, sex meant fucking to completion with a partner for the momentary reward of the ejaculation and the throbbing as I emptied my semen, either into my lover's mouth or ass or the yard or my chest. It wasn't until I was with my last lover that I lived in two sexual worlds. One was with him and our having sex and the other was my invisible sexuality with my dick and what I did with it under my clothes. Before the joy of wearing a butt plug, then living plugged, my most secret thing was to wear a cock ring as much as I could. Yes, my cock was often swollen and deliciously sore. But as soon as my secret sexuality involved the butt plug, my focus migrated to my anal parts and my backside. It's not that I like my cock any less than I always have; it's just that being plugged is a deep-seated psychological drenching of pheromones in my brain on a constant basis; my feeling of well being is much much stronger than my feeling of doubt and worry, and no matter what is going on in my life, part of me is always at peace and feeling joy and a bit horny.

And if you're younger than fifty and you fear that you will lose your sexuality as you grow "old" I will tell you that, if anything, it increases, you just have to be open to other ways of getting satisfaction. Being plugged is the most effective way I have ever discovered. 

I enjoy the secret pleasure of being plugged in public and visiting with neighbors and having dinner with friends, or being in meetings among my fellow workers (although this is not frequent as I now work at home).