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Why I Keep the Cushion

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 15 Jul 2018 3 comments
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In my condo, on a futon in my living room, is a large, cylindrical foam rubber cushion. I got this thing years ago from a former roommate who didn't want it anymore. It's too big for the futon, the cover is a horrible green, and I've never been able to find another one since the pillow is odd-shaped and over three feet long and almost a foot and a half in diameter. I have absolutely no idea just for what this thing was originally intended, and I've never seen another one like it. It looks like a bolster pillow on steroids, and is really quite ridiculous. It's too big to use as a pillow, too firm to really snuggle up with, and the shape makes it useless to even rest things on. More than one person, including both my parents, my sister (the would-be interior decorator) and several friends, have asked me why I don't just get rid of the thing, and I just "hmm and haw" and shrug and try to change the subject. Only a couple of my friends know the real reason: I don't want to get rid of it, because I so thoroughly enjoy screwing the heck out of it. My old roommate was going to throw this "thing" (we actually called it the "thing" because to this day we still don't know what it is) away along with a bunch of other stuff when we decided to get our own places. It was in good shape, and I was low on furniture so I said I'd take it, and it moved in with me. Sometimes it was in the living room, sometimes the bedroom, since it didn't really fit anywhere. It was in my bedroom when I was masturbating before bed one night, and I decided to try rubbing off on it. It didn't work as well I thought it would. Although its size and firmness supported my weight and gave me good purchase with my arms and legs clamped around it for some serious thrusting, its firmness also made it not so comfortable against my penis. I orgasmed, of course, but it wasn't anything great. My plain old pillow was definitely better for THAT kind of thing. I kind of forgot about it in this context for awhile. At some late time, I spilled wine on it one evening and took the cover off to clean it. After my friends had gone home, and just before bed, I'd undressed to do you-know-what. I got a glass of water for the night from the tap, and I was looking at the solid foam that had under the cover, which was soaking in the sink, and I had a sudden idea: maybe I could cut a hole, or a slit, in the foam and instead of rubbing against it, stick myself into it. I was in the kitchen. I picked up the foam and held it up to my body, thinking about how to go about this, where to put the hole, the size, the angle, and the lining to use. I got down on the floor and tried a couple positions with it (just for experimental purposes, or course) to decide just what I wanted to do, then got up. I got my large chef's knife and stood, pondering my project. As I did, I realized that anybody looking through my still open living room curtains could see right into the kitchen and would get quite an interesting eyeful: pretty good looking, in shape, nude, blonde guy with a butcher knife, and sporting an erection, crouching over an object on the floor! Thinking better of going through with this in full view of my neighbors, I took the cushion and knife and moved to my bedroom, where I quickly performed some minor surgery on what I was beginning to think of as my new, foamy friend. Then, I went back to the kitchen to put away the knife and get a sandwich bag, and I was just about ready. I used a flashlight to sink the baggie into the slit I'd made, and then squirted in a generous amount of lube. On my knees, I placed the cushion upright supported against the edge of my mattress, the slit aligned at the proper height, and gently pumped myself until I was fully firm. Leaning forward, I guided myself to the mouth of the slit, inserted my head, and feeling the slickness around it, gave a good shove and went all the way in up to my belly. Whoa! I was on to something this time! I pulled the cushion against me, leaned forward a little and began to slowly pump in and out. Hot damn, but it was better than I'd hoped, so slick and I'd only made a few cautious strokes, noting that it was awfully tight,then I had to do it, and I began banging the hell out of the cushion. All too quickly my excitement mounted, my balls tightened and I came, jamming myself fully into the foam. When I'd finsihed coming, I pulled out, and immediately began thinking about fine-tuning it. The fit was just a little too tight...I didn't want to have to work myself to I was really hard before doing it, and I wanted to be able to last a little more than just a couple of mintues after I was actually "in." A couple smaller slices with the knife was all it took. When, about twenty mintues later, I mounted it from above, on my bed, I rode it harder and harder for what must have been about ten minutes before I came again. Since then, I've really loved screwing that cushion. Even with my slight adjustment, it's still so physically stimulating that I can't make five minutes before cumming, if I have my first orgasm in it. Where it really works best is for my second, or sometimes third orgasm. This means that I'm usually screwing it on the weekend, when late at night, or early in the moring, I might have time for an extended, several orgasm-session, if I'm in the mood. I often am. I'll usually take it from above, my weight full on, arms hugging it, legs clamped around it as I pump it. Due to its firmness and size, I can really give it a pounding, and I'm often out of breath when I orgasm. Other times, I'll lie beside it and go as gently as I can holding off for up to fifteen minutes before I have to finish, clutch it fiercely and cum. Two friends of mine know I have "sex" with "the thing." My old roommate, who is familiar with my enthusiasm for masturbation, and I with his. The other is an old friend of mine who, on one visit, took his turn with "the thing" while I showered one morning. I emerged from the bathroom while he was in mid-hump...the sound of my bedrings betraying his enthusiasm, and he later made no effort to deny the fact that he too, thought it was great fun. "Damn, that IS good," he'd said.