I Got A Dildo Stuck Up My Butt And Had To Go The ER (THE SHAME)

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Sex

Which was worse, the pain or the shame?

I am going to tell you a story that nobody knows. 

I am going to tell you this story in the hopes that I can save you. 

Or, to be more specific, that I can save your butt.

When I was twenty years old I got a dildo stuck in my butt. I was terrified, sore, and in desperate need of help. 

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It all worked out, I'm now 33 and do not have a dildo in my butt, so that's good. But man, was getting there one hell of a battle.

I discovered orgasms during my junior year of college. I mean I knew they existed long before then, but other than the ones that spontaneously bubbled up in me while watching Kevin Sorbo on TV, I could never figure out how to make them happen for myself.

Luckily, I wound up in a dorm suite full of senior girls my junior year. They were funny, smart, and very much in touch with their sexuality. 

When one casually mentioned that she was placing a vibrator order and did I want in on the action, I said sure, but confessed I never used one before. 

Rather than judge, she and my other suitemates gathered 'round to help me pick and choose my first vibrator. We got a couple of options just to be safe. 

By the end of that year I went home to Rhode Island for the summer with a collection of vibrators and toys to rival any porn star worth her salt. 

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It was difficult to masturbate in a house full of my family where my bedroom served as a short cut to the back stairs and had two separate doors. 

If I could relax enough to try and jerk one out, I often had roughly three or four minutes before a brother or a sister or a parent would come barreling through my woefully lock-free doors. 

Then it happened. One lucky weekend my family decided to go out of town and I, a truculent youth, decided to stay home. 

I bought new sex toys in preparation.

When the box arrived it was like Christmas, sexy Christmas where Santa accidentally sends you a dildo instead of the butt plug you were eager to try. 

I wasn't about to let a little mail order error stop my non-stop freak fest, so lube in tow, when my family left I decided it was time to explore my anus with a dildo. 

There's something you need to know about your butt. It has TWO sphincters. Getting anything past the first set can be a little difficult and a little painful, but good difficult and painful. 

When you hit the second set of sphincters you're on easy street. Those suckers will fiercely grab anything you put up there like they are being paid to do so. 

I didn't know about the second set when I worked a thin dildo up my butt the first time. 

I felt a pop as I passed through the first set of sphincters but I couldn't enjoy it, because it felt like a pair of hands inside my butt had grabbed the dildo and were like "WE GOT IT FROM HERE". 

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I panicked (the worst thing you can do when you have something in your butt) and tried to yank the dildo back out but it was going nowhere. There was barely enough of it exposed to get a hold of to grab it properly. 

It was like Excalibur, and I, the magic stone that only a true king could pluck out the prized blade. 

I tried everything I could think of for roughly two hours and the dildo wasn't going anywhere. I began to worry that I would die and my family would return from their innocent weekend jaunt to find their eldest daughter dead from being dumb about putting things up her butt. 

Calling a friend was out of the question. We had a car in the driveway but sitting down was simply unthinkable. So I did the only thing sane thing a person in my position could do: I walked to the nearest hospital and tried to give them a fake name. 

To give credit where it's due, though I was embarrassed enough to lie about my name, I was honest about what happened. None of this "uh, I slipped and fell on it" nonsense. If I was going to be medically treated for a sex injury, I would do it with pride. Or, at least, as little shame as possible. 

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I was still on my parents insurance and was so sure they would discover my dildo debacle and disown me that I spent far too much time insisting to the people in admitting that I would pay the fees to have it removed out of pocket. 

In my mind it would be millions of dollars. I was sure surgery would be involved. I could picture my future, no functioning butthole and one hell of a tale to tell. 

Once the nurses had soothed me ("This is nothing," said one, "we got a man who is in here everything month with different shaped lightbulbs up there") getting the actual dildo out was not a big deal. Muscle relaxers and small talk were all it took for the doctor to ease the device out of my ass. 

"Would you like to keep it?" He asked me. 

"That's okay," I said. "I've got my memories." 

 

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