In a moment of true adolescent perversion I did something that I am not quite proud of, but think about regularly. One night, when I was eighteen, I was up late and being driven crazy by hormones and horniness. It was some time after midnight when I snuck out of my bedroom and went to the partially-finished basement of my house. There were some old couches down there, a TV with an old unused VCR, and little else save for random junk and a spare refrigerator. My intent was to watch an old VHS porno I had stored away — sure I could have just gone online — but I was in a weird mood and wanted to watch some grainy, ultra-specific, slightly uncomfortable, story driven 80s porn.
When I got to the basement I turned on the TV, set the volume as low as it would go, and put the tape in to see where I had last left off, I.e. after whatever made me cum last time. The scene that must have pushed me over the edge involved a little voyeur action where one of the actors was candidly filming the other through a bedroom window. I rewound a bit hoping that whatever got me last time would get me again — hopefully calm me down a bit so I could finally get to bed. However, I found myself inspired instead. I knew I wasn’t going to get lucky and pop by a window to catch a neighbor in action, though I did wish for it, but I decided I would film myself and see what it looked like.
I pulled my pants back up and was a man on a mission. I looked through some old things until I found our old family camcorder and an old blank VHS tape. I got everything set-up, pointed the camera lens at the couch and did a test run to see what I could capture. I thought about it for a minute and realized it wasn’t going to be a particularly interesting scene if it was just me, sitting on a coach, rubbing one out. So I thought to myself “what would be interesting to see?” A flood of creative, mostly strange, ideas ran through my mind. I settled on a fantasy I had, had a few times, but was never brave enough to try. I had been saving a bottle of baby oil for a few years, thinking it might be a sexy fun thing to rub on a partner at some future sexual encounter which I genuinely hoped would happen. Well, that didn’t appear to be coming any time soon, so why not test it out to see if it would even feel good. I went back to my room, got it from its hiding place, grabbed a few towels, and headed back downstairs. I turned the recording on and then proceeded to strip down nude and toss my close out of frame. I turned the porno back on to get my mind back in the mood and then I started to stroke myself. I turned a few times to make sure every angle was captured. I think some part of me put myself in the shoes of a film director and I wanted to know what angles would work and what lighting I needed for any future videos I made.
Satisfied that I had captured what I wanted I took out the baby oil and began to slowly lather up. At the time I didn’t work out regularly, but I had an athletic build and was in decent shape. 6’2”, 180 lbs, dark hair, pale skin. I filled one cupped-palm with a thin layer of baby oil and then ran my hand across my chest. I slowly rubbed it all over my mostly hairless chest and stomach until I felt resistance as the oil started to spread too thin. I filled my palm again and continued. Almost a dozen times I did this until I was satisfied that I was sufficiently covered in baby oil. Shoulders, chest, arms, legs, butt. I turned around, looked back behind myself staring at the camera lens, and then drizzled some baby oil down my back. I was trying to be sexy — for myself — for the camera. The whole experience was arousing, but not what I imagined. It only took a few minutes to be covered, and then I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should I just run my hands over myself? Should I stroke my cock? Should I put a finger or two in my ass to see what it would feel like? What would be an interesting thing to see on camera?
First I sat on the coach — covered in towels of course, I’m not a monster — and I watched the porn and touched myself. It was slippery and different. I don’t normally use lube at all so this was a big change for me. Surprisingly it got “dry” and I had to spit on it to make it feel better. I would touch myself for a minute, then spit again and again. I didn’t really care for the feeling, something was missing and I wasn’t enjoying it. I needed another person there to make this as good as it could be. I needed a mouth or a vagina or anything that could provide more wetness than this.
Suddenly, I had an idea. A banana had recently touched my arm and the sensation felt like being licked. The inside of the peel reminded me of a tongue and in this moment of raging hormones and without clear direction for what would make interesting cinema I thought “I bet fucking a banana peel is like getting a blow job.” I knew we had some in the house — probably — unless I had eaten them all and forgotten. I stopped what I was doing, paused the recording, and ran upstairs — nude and covered in baby oil — to the kitchen. It wasn’t until I got there that I realized the windows were fully open and I was more exposed than I had ever been. This was my first time masturbating without the security of a locked door. I looked around and grabbed the biggest banana I could find before quickly running back to the basement.
There was a strange level of excitement as I peeled the banana. A little less as I ate it… I wasn’t hungry, but I’m not going to waste food either. Then I tested my hypothesis. Did the inside of the peel really feel like a tongue? I ran it across my arm. Yes. I ran it across my stomach. Yes… I think? I ran it across my cheek. No… not quite, it was missing something. Warmth. It needed to be body temperature for it to really feel like a mouth. So I ran back upstairs and put the peel in the microwave on top of a paper towel. 5 seconds — stopping the countdown with a second to go to make sure no one heard the beeps and came running downstairs to see a teenage boy nude, covered in oil, handling a hot banana. Touched the warm banana to my cheek… not enough. 5 more seconds. 5 more. 5 more. Yes; success!
I ran back downstairs, restarted the recording, rubbed a little more oil on my cock and balls, made eye contact with the camera, then I began. I placed the warm banana peel on my penis and began to stroke it. Slimy banana parts mixed with the baby oil and created a sensation that I can only describe as unique. In retrospect it was absolutely not a mouth, an ass, a pussy or anything in between. It was strange as hell though… and, after a minute of trying to get off that way, I started to laugh and laugh.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked of myself before discarding the banana peel and lowering my head in shame. I looked around the room at the oil covered towels that sat on the couch, the limp banana peel on the stool nearby, the old porn which had advanced several scenes since I had last paid real attention to it, and my banana slimed phallus sticking out toward the camera, still rock hard, but wholly unsatisfied. “You are dumb.” I berated myself as I stopped the camera. “What an idiot” I shamed myself as I tossed out the peel and wiped as much oil off my body as I could. “You are disgusting.” I beat myself up for giving in to my baser — and stranger — desires. Clean up done, penis limp, balls full I threw my hands up in abject frustration. I needed to cum. No questions asked; I needed to cum. However, I wasn’t going to this way. So I turned off the porn, popped out the VHS I had made of myself being a freak and was about to go back upstairs to my room to download something and finish the job. No… while I’m here, while everyone is asleep, while I am still feeling weird let me watch what I just did.
So I put my self-made tape in the VCR, rewound to the beginning, and hit play.
All the events I just described for you I watched again. In confusion, in shame, in good humor I watched myself. Then I got turned on. Turned on watching myself debase myself and explore the weirdness of my sexual proclivities. When I got to the banana scene I thought I would just give up and laugh myself out of arousal, but it was quite the opposite. There was something strangely provocative about being a voyeur of my own exhibitionism. I watched, rewound, watched, rewound several times as I got more and more turned on. Finally I came all over my lightly oil covered stomach. The smell of oil, spit, banana and stale basement making the whole experience that much more strange. As I sat there — having finally cum after several hours of trying to find something to push me over the edge — I heard myself, from the film, laughing at me. I started to laugh again at how absurd the whole situation had been. At how absurd I was. Then I cleaned up, popped the tape out of the VCR, pushed aside one panel of the drop ceiling, and hid it in on one of the beams, before sliding the tile back in place.
I thought about it occasionally, but never revisited the tape or my shame. Eventually I forgot about the tape entirely and the only reason I remember it or this story at all is because several years later I was having a conversation with a friend and we were talking about the most shameful / embarrassing thing we had ever done. I was instantly reminded of this. I told them about it in vivid detail which was then punctuated in a moment of pure, true, actual panic; thus locking the story in my mind forever. I had forgotten the tape when I moved out. Likewise, my parents had moved out of that house years ago. So that means, somewhere, in some strangers home, is a video of a teenage boy covered in baby oil and masturbating with a warm banana. My only hope is that it has never been found and that one day, when it inevitably is, the person who finds it won’t have a VCR or be intrigued enough to go find one so they can watch and see my shame. I hope, I hope, I hope that isn’t what happens. Then again, I know if it were me, and I found a VHS tape with no label hidden in the ceiling of my house… I would do everything in my power to watch it.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/m7t05p/trying_new_things_alone_m