What I do at home alone—the “pervert” solo sexual stuff

I’m a gay nudist bottom

Part One: My Toddler and Little Boy Years

Even when I was a toddler to about six years old, I was already fascinated by my body, my little uncircumcised dick, my bottom and what I could stick in there, and things my father taught me, and things my mother refused to let me do. “Mama? Can I go outside naked and play?” 

"No. If you do someone will see you and call the police.” This was no idle threat, and even back then as a four-to-six year old, I knew about the police. It was the 1950s and the McCarthy Era. No, I didn’t know that then, but I was afraid of the police.

I was younger than my two older sisters, and when they went to school I was alone with my mother most of the day, until I was about four. It’s beside the point, but my mother had a baby when I was four, another sister. But love them all, I was more fascinated by being naked, playing with my dick, and what my father taught me. Of course, I had no idea that when his brothers came to visit and sat around in our living room and I was on the floor in front of them playing with my toy truck that I wasn’t supposed enjoy being at eye level with their spread legs and their blue denim crotches, and I just knew that all men had dicks and I wanted to see them. I didn’t know it was “wrong” or that it portended anything. This all portended what I would do at home, if I was alone...the solo sexual stuff. It started early and I was a sexual being from then on.

On weekdays, when my father was working and my sisters were at school, one of my mother’s friends in the neighborhood would come over to visit and bring her boy about my age and we would run off together and play in the back yard. We lived in town, but we had a chicken house and chickens and dogs and cats. The kitchen door opened to the back yard, and I never gave it a thought that my mother could see the entire back yard. But of course she could. And she kept an unbeknownst eye on my diapered shenanigans, of which I will now confess.

My father had taught me to pee standing up in the bathroom, and he taught me right away to pull back my foreskin. No, he didn’t show me his own hooded dick to demonstrate it. But he did take his very huge and beautiful thumb and forefinger and pull back the foreskin on my little boy dick. And then made me try and then watched me pee and said, “That’s the time. Don’t forget to do it like that, each time. You’re too big to pee in your diapers, and we’ll get you some shorts like mine if you learn."

Are you kidding me? I was happy to have a reason to run around outdoors in the back yard and play with my dick, and practice pulling back the foreskin. Each time I did, I felt nice things and watched, pleased that my little two-inch dick grew to four inches and the little head lost its hoodie and also grew bigger. I was a four year old masturbator and didn’t have the language to call it that. 

So, I remember clearly on the day that my mother’s friend came by to visit and her son and I played in the back yard. He instigated things that I never would have thought of on my own, like showing me how to stick my dick through the chicken house wall, as he did, and then we went inside the chicken house and the chickens were outside in their fenced in yard and we sat down (I think this was post diaper days when I had a T-shirt and white briefs like he did) and he said, “Show me your honey butt."

“My what?”

“You’re honey butt.”

So I pulled down my shorts and my little stiff pecker popped out and showed itself, and I pulled back the foreskin and he got right up into my crotch and watched it from close up. He told me to turn around and so I did, and he kissed the smooth, hairless butt cheeks. I recall this decades later as if it just happened, and I can say I didn’t think it was wrong what we did, just the kind of fun that gave me trembling happy feelings in my dick and in my bottom. I also realized many decades later that he had probably been sexualized by someone in his family; had to have been, and here he was passing on that sexualization to me, and I took to it like the future gay nudist bottom I would one day be.

Part Two: The farm boy years, from seven years to eighteen.

My father quit working at the cotton gin when we lived in town, and he had also worked as a carpenter on a crew that built one of my hometown's largest residential sub-divisions. I didn't know any of this, really, except I remember one time he took me to the cotton gin and showed me where he worked. He had a brother, married to a nurse, who had also been married to a man who had worked at the cotton gin, but had gotten into an accident and lost both forearms and both hands, and back then my uncle's wife just took care of her first husband and all three of them lived in the same house; and I just remember the man with no hands and forearms sitting at the kitchen table. It was a lot to take in when I was younger.

So, anyway, we moved to the farm and my father took over farming. He's bought this farm way before I was ever born and he just rented it out and let other families farm it, until he decided he needed to move us four children to the farm and so we started living there. My father built a new house on the farm and we moved in there. I shared a bedroom with my grandfather, and then when he moved into a little trailer on the farm I had my own room, and that's where I stared really getting into my solo sexuality. I had ideas and much of them involved being naked, playing with my dick and feeling around the other side and sticking my finger in my butt, which I also did a lot when I took a bath.

I discovered the erotic visuals I could get by putting a mirror on the floor of the bath room and standing over it with my legs spread, so I could see my growing dick and my butt hole and my growing balls. I was a very visual solo sexual kid and then teen. This picture isn't that, but it's an erotic visual, the kind I start leaking precum over.

But oh, the farm, the wide open spaces, far enough away from the house to strip naked and run across an alfalfa field when it's high and still green and not yet cut and baled, and it stings with wetness between my legs and I cum hands free.

Other times, I would lay awake in bed until one by one, I could hear the others in the house go silent as they all went to sleep, and I would put on my sneakers, dressed only in my underwear and on a summer night sneak out of the house, get on my bike and pull my shorts off and hang them on the handlebar and ride through the middle of the night naked and at speed, and I knew the dirt roads around the fields like the back of my hand. 

Back then my solo sexuality, involved climaxing by ejaculating hands free, as I would when I was flying down the dirt road on my bicycle naked and hard and trembling with the excitement of my rising climax. Back then the cum was the thing, the orgasm was the reward. I didn't yet know about the joy of edging for hours and hours, or even days at a time. And I sure didn't know about butt plugs that companies actually made and you could walk into an adult bookstore/video arcade and buy them.

I scooped up all kinds of sex toys that caught my fancy, including cock rings, dildos shaped like men's cocks, with their little ball sacs hanging off the end, all shapes and sizes of butt plugs. These were better than dildos, I discovered, when they weren't shaped like cocks, because they had a specific purpose, even for men, and that was to wear them and do things while wearing them. The best one back in the early days of advanced plug material and design said, pop it in and go play tennis, and you know, it gave me ideas. One plug I bought and wore completely out was shaped like a traffic cone with a shaft that my sphincter would close around once the cone part of the plug was in my rectum. I wore these plugs even when I was in relationships with guys. It was a private part of my life that I didn't choose to share and chance the issues they might have with my somewhat more experimental solo sexual play.

The Custom plug one-month anniversary

Thirty-three days with the custom plug in my rectum.

I am glad that the resizes I made to the source plug were just a few incremental changes here and there. I went from a 1.58-inch diameter egg to a 2-inch diameter egg shown here. I made the shaft a half-inch longer than the source plug and the ring base became a true donut with a much thicker ring of glass around a much smaller donut hole. The donut is about 3 inches in diameter from edge to edge. The entire plug is 7 inches from top to bottom. I probably have an average depth of a rectum, because this plug takes up the entire rectum to the sigmoid colon and the bend in the colon. I feel the egg forcing its way into the end of the rectum inside my body, just a bit farther than my middle finger can reach. I’ve read and have experienced what happens when I dig deeper, where the collecting feces is gathering but no yet ready to be expelled. If I force an evacuation too soon with a water enema, I pass a lot of loose waste.

Getting used to this bigger plug (on the left, the one that is my custom design) has caused me to go without the plug about three full nights in this 33 day period and a few hours during times I am at parties or dinners and the food is not the slow-digesting kind I need to stay plugged without incident. After 14 years of writing this blog, I feel I can be graphic and concrete with the physicality of actually living with a plug in my rectum at least 95% of the time. I have finally successfully twisted my phone around with the photo app turned on and without being able to see the phone screen, I have finally gotten the up-close shot of my butt crack with the end of this new plug showing, along with successfully showing the comparative size of the plug superimposed on the photo of my butt and ball sack. I can’t account for the reddish hue of the skin, unless it has something to do with a bit darker light in that area where I place the camera close to my butt crack and click the button icon to take the picture. As you can see, the slight tweaking I have done has created a substantially bigger plug than the original. The challenge has been getting used to the bigness. I have experienced “weary butt” for the first time in about 10 years since I got so used to the smaller plug. Another delicious effect of a higher mass of borosilicate glass is that the custom-made plug weighs about 1.29 pounds, which also partially accounts for weary butt feeling. Don’t misunderstand, weary butt is like having been fucked for more than you can “stand” but at the same time this added sensitivity, if you can power through it is a true edging accomplishment.

I have long since passed the need to remove the plug even after masturbating and shooting my load. It takes some effort at first to avoid pulling the plug once you ejaculate. Now it is easy and I just clean my chest after shooting and fall back and go to sleep. I like to sleep naked and always make access to my rectum simple, because toying with the wet plug and moist skin of the rectum is soothing and physical. Also I enjoy bringing my wet fingers to my mouth and sucking on them. No. There’s no shit in the rectum at this time. My rectum is clean enough for anyone to tongue me, although there never will be anyone doing that, as I stay true to my partner of 30 years, even though he is living 1200 miles away. It’s a bittersweet accommodation for his career and my location in a home I own, where I live alone.

I feel glad that I like my own company and can follow my own post-retirement career. 

 

2nd generation glass plug, custom made for a larger plug.

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Getting wild with butt plugs at home alone and naked

Choice of butt plug

Or what I like to call an anal plug for long-term wear. Look it up. “Is it safe to wear a butt plug for long term use?" The answer is a modest, “Yes. You can safely wear a butt plug for at least 30 minutes, two hours," or some such. That’s as far as the AI advice data will go.

Well, as anyone knows who has read this blog, which I kept up consistently for around 10 years and then quit except occasionally, since I thought I had exhausted everything there was about living plugged, I suggest and practice the idea that you could keep a plug in your rectum 24/7/365 times x years. I have effectively had a plug in my ass now for fourteen years. As you might suspect, in the 24/7/365 goal, several real-life facts prevents me from being plugged a hundred percent of the time.

• Defecation
• Indigestion and the runs
• Being ill with the flu or other issues
• Knowing if I go out in public plugged and I eat a spicy meal or get too full, it is a crap shoot (literally) that I’d rather not take a chance on.

But I do quite often wear my plug out and about town and even end up pulling it out in a public restroom and defecating and cleaning up as best I can and replugging and carrying on. In fact, it’s a bit of a thrill to know that I’m in a stall pulling a plug out of my ass and cleaning it and replugging, while other men are in the room and not knowing. I also like to imagine that I’m not the only one (male or female, old or young) who is currently plugged in line at the bank, or in a restaurant, or walking through the mall, or watching a movie at a theater.

I can’t chance riding a bike plugged, without knowing that it could get past the sphincter and work its way up my colon to become irretrievable by myself. I’d half to have a doctor stick his fist up my ass and grab that glass ring and the end of the plug—or something like that. 

It happened one time. I was riding my bike and feeling frisky with the plug being jostled in my ass with ever bump and thrust of my legs on pedals. And once…I knew I had just lost my plug up my rear end and I hurried home and stuck my finger up my butt seeking the glass ring at the end of the plug, and…not being able to reach it.

Luckily, I worked my kegals and prepared for a “dump” as one can do and feel movement in the bowels as the load (this time one made of borosilicate glass) slid on down the chute and plunked out into the toilet bowl before I had a chance to catch it, and it clinked on the porcelain and I feared that it might have shattered. You can break a glass plug if you drop it on a hard tile floor from sink level, butt (mmm) it didn’t shatter or so much as get a shard broken off the plug anywhere with what was only an eight inch drop.

* * *

So what have I been up to living plugged? I have continued to live plugged naked, dressed, in bed, working in the yard, sitting at my desk, out in public, etc. most of the time without long breaks. But I have also been experimenting as I had not before. I’ve watched a ton of solo anal play videos and watched men of all ages use extremely large and long dildos up their butts. I have an array of modest plugs, but what I experimented with recently was to attach a leather string to the ring base of my glass plug and insert the plug into my ass, and with my finger push it all the way in, including the ring base, past the sphincter until I can barely touch the end of the plug with my finger. I rearrange the leather string making sure there’s still plenty of length left outside my ass, and then I take another one of my modest silicone plugs with the base cut off, leaving the head and the shaft, and I stick it in my butt, and push it up into my rectum so that it forces my glass plug with the string on it further into my ass, past the sigmoid colon and into the gut tunnel; and I push on the silicon plug, until I can barely feel it with the tip of my finger, and THEN,  I take a third plug shaped like a traffic cone with a wide bottom, which I force past the sphincter, and allow it to close around the shaft which is attached to a large elongated base, that nests itself snuggly against my anal opening in the crack of my ass. three little pigs in an ass blanket.

So that’s a total of three plugs in my butt in a row, and I strut around the house feeling the crowd of plugs in my ass move to my movements, with not a hint of pain, as the gut has very few nerve endings for pain reception. Keep in mind that I know this is not long term, but I have also lain in bed with the three plugs in my ass, past the sphincter, lined up inside of me. The only life-saving precaution is that tenuous leather string attached to the glass ring, and the rest of the string coming outside my ass, which is what I can hold onto to pull the glass plug out of my ass, last; alas, it does have to come out within a couple of hours.

I’ve done this three days in a row and this last time, I had an unexpected crisis. First I pulled hard on the big fat silicone plug with the elongated base in the crack of my ass and it popped out with some effort, since the wide base of the cone was past my sphincter which had closed reliably around the shaft. but it did come out. And then I slid my fingers into my rectum—and sure enough the smaller silicone plug with the base cut off was deep inside and I could just barely touch the end of the shaft where I had cut off the base. It was fuckin’ neat that I could not touch the two remaining plugs they were buried. There was no way to grab ahold of the silicone plug, and so I figured I could just pull the leather string on the glass plug and it would push the silicone plug out of my ass far enough that I could get a grip on the shaft and pull, and…

                                the silicone plug began to move out within reach of my fingers, where I could grab the shaft. It worked.

But when I pulled on the string again to retrieve the glass plug, the string came free leaving the glass plug still pretty deep in my rectum, past the sigmoid colon. A trip to the emergency room flashed before my eyes, but I sat down on the toilet and, because of the activity of the three plugs in my ass softening everything up and still nice and slick, I was able to dump the glass plug out, where I grabbed onto the ring base and pulled it free, free at last! Free at last! And the surprise was that the glass plug was glistening without a hint of you know what, and as beautiful and sexy as it could be in clear crystalline liquid, which I held up to the light, before shoving it back into my ass, but allowing the ring base to sit on the outside of my anal opening, where it has been ever since.

Please note that I didn’t upload any videos, because as it turns out, where I now live in Mississippi somehow manages to deactivate the videos but not the images.

 

Plugging extremes

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A Warm Well Lighted Place

 A Nod to Ernest Hemingway (a clean well lighted place)

While Ernest Hemingway was not an expatriate like many other American writers (i.e., James Baldwin, who lived in Paris from 1948 to 1957 and did much of his most substantial writing during those years), Hemingway spent a great deal of time as a news correspondent abroad, as well, and gained great respect for his sparse use of words in most of everything he wrote for newspapers and magazines, but it also spread to his work as a novelist and short-story writer. I’m thinking specifically of A Clean Well Lighted Place, a story that appeared in a magazine in 1933, set in a cafe (hence the clean well-lighted place) but it is a story about “nothing” and despair and certainly NOT about wearing a butt plug as a thing I do that keeps me happy and content and inspired.

I know. I know… the introduction to this post may have seemed strange, but I hope not off-putting. I’m a writer and like Hemingway, I love the physical, concrete descriptions of place, hopefully said with few words that are concrete and allows us to see the place or thing I’m talking about. I just love the picture of this guy’s deep-seated plug. I can feel what it must feel like buried almost to the point of the base of the plug slipping past the sphincter.  I’ve been in restaurants before when I used a lot of lube and suddenly felt the ring base of my Icicles #14 forcefully get shoved into the rectum, past the sphincter as the hard surface of the seat pushed the ring base just enough for it to begin the journey into the nether reaches of my large intestine. 

In a restaurant in public that made for a crisis. If I didn’t go into the public men’s room and get myself to a stall with a wet paper towel (for clean up) and dig around in my rectum to retrieve the plug as soon as possible, it would have migrated farther into my anal canal past the reach of my fingers. And would have to make an embarrassing visit to the hospital to have a doctor or assistant do a fist-job to grab the (in this case) the crystal ring base and pull it out.

I discovered the propensity of plugs and dildos stuck in my ass to go on a journey into the inner reaches of my intestines, one time, when I fell asleep with a 10-inch dildo with no base in my butt. For some fortunate reason, I had decided to attach a cord to the dildo that I could reach and pull the dildo out of my butt if I chose to shove it past the sphincter. I fell asleep, however, before I did that, and when I woke up with a very busy feeling in my gut, I felt back there and discovered, just a bare two inches of cord was sticking out of my closed anus. The cord I attached to the dildo was at least two feet long!

During my nap, the dildo had traveled way the fuck up into my intestines and presumably would have eventually encountered an obtuse left or right turn and been stopped. It’s not like there’s a straight line from my butt hole to the back of my throat.

 

There, that's better. Just illustrates my point that things can go very deep, regardless of how twisted the path may be to get there. 

Of course, all I’ve done while writing this post is to have my sacred glass plug in my rectum.

Time to Reveal a new Kink

 Men who taste their own cum….and now piss.

Over the course of time I have been living alone I have discovered that I can enhance my edging experience in ways I never dreamed possible. I still live plugged, stay naked, engage in prostate orgasm that forces the semen back into my body and doesn’t produce and ejaculation. I honestly didn’t realize this was possible, but I continued reading on the subject of prostate ejaculations, and I read with growing interest what men who use the aneros prostate massagers say about their own ejaculate-less orgasms. They are stronger and once you break through the barrier of self doubt and know a little more of what to expect prostate massage and prostate orgasms can be addictive. When I’m reaching the point of no return then pull back (which is called edging) I sometimes go into anal convulsions where the feeling explodes inside my rectum and palpitate that spot behind my ball sack between that and the anal opening. I’m disciplined enough that when I have an orgasm I don’t pull my precious glass plug out of my ass. I leave it in there and continue about my day, quite often taking the time to run my finger around the inside of my foreskin to collect that slick, shiny precum and suck it off my fingers.

Sometimes having edged for quite a while…say four hours, I feel an urgent need to piss, which is where “tasting my own piss" comes into play or at least has in recent weeks. I’d never drunk my own urine as I have been doing now for about a month. My urine is almost universally light in color and crystal clear when I hold a glass of it to the light. Sometimes it’s a bit cloudy, which I suspect comes when I have had fat food (maybe). More on the topic of the constituents of urine later on, but for now let me just say that drinking my own urine is becoming a new kind of erotic kink for my solo sexuality.  Today, for example, as I write this, I have drunk every drop of pee that I have output today, glass after glass, except for when I was in my backyard naked and needing to pee, and so I peed into my hand and splashed the piss on my face and neck and let it dry in the cool breeze of the early dark.

 

 My first time drinking my own urine was an eye popping experience, as the urine was exploding with flavors, some salty, some smooth like I don’t know a light beer? Some of the flavor was almost too strong, like the  flavor of cardamon (a cloying Indonesian spice that is often used in tea). It is this last flavor that is present in every shot of my piss that made it difficult to keep going with this experiment as far as it has now come. I tried over riding or softening the cardamon taste by mixing in various liquids to my piss. When I finally settled on lime juice, the heavens opened up and made drinking my own urine (with a lime water chaser) an erotic, cock-twitching event. I always say just writing about being plugged gives me an erection and I have to add, now, that just confessing to this new kink and writing about it makes me leak precum under my foreskin.

You can look up the constituents of urine if you want to. You will find that aside from western health articles that say drinking urine is not good for you, millions of people from around the world do it anyway, especially Ayurvedic practitioners. All that aside, I’m going to carry through with this new kink until I see evidence that it is harmful. For now…well I’m working on filling another glass with urine and have my lime-water chaser sitting off to the side.

I am happy to report that I can drink my piss all day and never feel so much as queasy. If that were the case I would give up on it. Just not yet...

The Day After

 The completely and utterly shocking win by DJT….Geez. All I could think of to do to take my mind off that horror was to get naked, stay naked, masturbate, drink my own piss and watch some good butt plugging videos. Today it’s meant to dull the pain, but I am already getting geared up for a flood of endorphine release as I edge and squeeze my sphincter hard around the borosilicate glass plug, which consists of a glass egg on the business end of the shaft, which is itself melded into a donut ring that stays outside the sphincter but pushes against it with every move I make.

Just a short masturbation with a butt plug barely showing. I like the way this guy lets the base fall out of his crack and pulls it back in with his kegals. From experience, I know that it sends a flood of sensation down the shaft of my cock and into the rectum that is hugging the plug in a warm, intimate embrace.

I know what this guy means about getting a little piggy in his shed. When I grew up on a farm I constantly had my cock out as I worked in the field. I must've jacked off in every possible square foot around the farm yard and in the field. I stayed pretty piggy on the farm, myself, I do have to admit. Back then it was a lot of very satisfying solo sex.

Last Post before election

 Relieving Tension…

Those million or so readers who have viewed this blog know that I’ve been keeping track of living with a plug in my rectum, as close to 24/7/365 as I can get, and I will assert that I accomplish this at a 90% plugged rate and have done so for 12 years.

I discovered that wearing a plug all the time, day and night every every hour of every day releases well-being endorphins into my brain and I usually have a heightened sense of well being, like that period during a good love making session with someone you love as a perfect sense of happiness. I get a little crazy with my self-sexual fulfillment during times of stress; but it sure beats taking drugs or alcohol or even smoking weed, which are all false equivalencies to real relief and well-being. Yes, my glass borosilicate plug is firmly home in my rectum as I write this. I am naked, except for a pair of underwear that is rolled up on my thighs and not covering my cock or my ass.

Yep, kinda like this guy in the photo to the left of this text. That’s not me, but we get each other. There are a lot of universal male self-sex activities I’ve discovered over the years that transcend the gay-straight spectrum.

Self-suck with a butt plug close up

I’m keeping this post short. I’ve noticed that over time, the ability to use videos from porn sites, by embedding the links have been ruined by the overlords. But let’s hope this one takes.

My friends and viewers, it’s after 3 a.m. and I slept about five hours and woke up and played with my rectum and decided it was time to write this blog. Loving being plugged; loving all my readers. Now if you don’t mind, I will lie back throw my legs over my head and shoot cum and piss into my mouth.