When I was 18, I got my hands on an expensive cigar that I’d nicked from a relative over Christmas.

I had visions of puffing gracefully on this cigar amongst my contemporaries at a summer park party, while the rest of them guzzle rum straight from the bottle, as we all did back then. How classy I would look! Guys would surely take notice. I had it all worked out in my head.

Alas, it was still winter; my visions of grandeur would likely not take shape for another four months at best. So I waited. I hid the cigar in a pencil case, which until then, had been exclusive home to my pencil crayons, sign markers, and silver pens.

One typical evening, I gave up chatting with 3 random perverts online, and instead decided to settle into some scrambled porn that came in pretty clearly (except in negative colour). I got so worked up; I felt some form of penetration was necessary to satisfy my urges. But what could I use? Fingers were so passé. Then I remembered the cigar. It came in a smooth silvery aluminum casing with a rounded end. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

So, I retrieved the cigar and went about my business… and it was very satisfying! Afterwards, I gave the casing a rinse and this time decided to stow it away under my mattress (yeah, I know – REAL original), for quick bedtime access, I guess.

A month or two later, I had a group of friends over to my house. Two of my girlfriends decided to stay the night, and so, to make things more comfortable, we decided to move the mattress from my bedroom downstairs into the guestroom so that we could all be together. I asked three of my guy friends, who were also over, to please move the mattress for us.

I had long forgotten about my precious cigar-case dildo hidden beneath it. All I heard was the exclamation, “Is that a FUCKING DILDO?” from upstairs. At first, I couldn’t think of what they were referring to. After all, I didn’t own a dildo.

I tore upstairs with my girlfriends at my heels, and all of us crowded into my bedroom, around my bed, around my very incriminating looking cigar in its nice smooth sheath. I quickly snatched it up. My friends looked at me silently; silent but smirking.

“I think we aaaaall know what’s been going on with THAT.” – said one of the guys, trying his best to hold back hysterical laughter.

All I could do was deny deny deny, but somehow, due to its ridiculously clandestine hiding space, they all knew I’d been stuffing it in my pussy. It was terrible. So fucking embarrassing and terrible.

Word circulated quickly around the school on Monday. Everyone knew that I’d been using a cigar as my masturbation tool of choice. And to this day, when I run into randoms from high school, they still refer to me as “Smokey Puss”… and even sometimes, “The Cubano Crazed Muff Stuffer.”