I did it to myself. Simple enough.
See, I’m an addict. And over the last two years, life has gone to hell. It had started simply by a friend introducing me to a drug. I won’t mention the drug’s name because some may think that it’s not that addictive and I don’t want to give it power.
I went from a young tech lead to a couch potato living in the extra room of my best friend Sam’s place, collecting unemployment. I was a good house guest at first, but over the next few months, I started to relapse and become depressed. I would have a manic episode and create something great— art, a new idea, something useful, but sometimes, I would get stuck in a self-harm cycle. It frustrated him to see me like this.
Sam was amazingly supportive, but did not know how to help. Watching me derail my life was painful, and he withdrew from the friendship becoming more of a brother-slash-father figure. He showed this side by searching my room one day, looking for drugs.
Luckily, that was the week Burning Man sucked up all the state's supply, leaving me dry. But what this unexpected drought caused was a reckoning with my sexual side. For the first time in months, I was horny— insatiably, continuously boned up. Every moment of every day, my mind was filled with the kinkiest fantasies. And I wouldn't lie, I acted out a few of them.
During these times, I liked to document the things I did. Something about being recorded was highly erotic. I was as careful as possible, only ever permitted partners or doms to use my phone, in order to make sure I controlled the content. I would use this content for spank-bank material and for showing them to partners, but never sending them out online. They were for me to preserve that magical part of my sexual development, fulfilling parts of fantasies I had had since I got into kink.
But these acts had a side effect— a plethora of toys. And I had brought them out of storage prior to the start of the week, and ‘hid’ them in my bottom drawer; let's be honest, it overflowed… With plugs of all shapes and sizes, dildos galore, masks, hoods, gags, singlets, jockstraps, cups, anal beads, lube injectors, condoms, used condoms, a leash, a collar (inscribed PIG), paddle, electro probe, bed bondage cuffs, cock rings, and two unopened webcams.
I had always been turned on by the idea of voyeurism, but had never had the balls to go through with it, everything in the drawer was condemning. To whoever opened the drawer, there was only one conclusion. I was a gay cam-pig. It was my ultimate shame fantasy fetish.
