I can't even remember discovering masturbation. Ever since I was really little, I have know what fun a boy can have on his own, even though it wasn't until I was about seven or eight that I started having regular orgasms. Still, I enjoyed playing with myself, making my little penis hard by pinching and squeezing it, then I'd rub my palms against the tip, rolling the foreskin around to provide the pleasure I craved. At the time of this story, I was five-and-a-half, and it was a hot summer, so I spent a lot of time indoors. Masturbating was something I did at least once a day, and more often when I was bored. And I was bored. There were never many kids my age in the neighbourhood, and now they were all gone on vacations or visiting relatives or something. I didn't care much; they were gone, and I was bored.
We lived in a big house with a nice-sized garden, so my parents were often busy mowing the lawn, planting flowers, painting the boards or something like that, and since they were both first-rate athletes (both competing against the national elite in orienteering) those days, they would often set out on a jog or something. Leaving me pretty much to myself, which was fine by me. I've always been a lone wolf, even as a cub, and I had plenty of toys to play with. This day, my parents were busy elsewhere, and my sister had gone to see her friends, so I was alone in the cellar, rummaging through some boxes of old toys and other stuff. Nobody minded this, as long as I didn't break anything and tidied up afterwards.
I was looking through a box containing some of my sister's discarded dolls, lifting skirts and pulling down trousers to see which were life-like ones. Whoever talked about `the innocence of childhood' was either wrong or hadn't met me. There were a couple of boy dolls that had both penis and sac, and for reasons I didn't really know back then, I kind of liked looking at them or touching them. I was just putting one back, after carefully rearranging his clothes, when I spotted something that made my heart skip a beat. It was a plush leopard, one I had completely forgotten but was now overjoyed to see. So overjoyed I grabbed its tail and pulled it out of the box so fast there was a ripping sound, like seams giving way. I didn't care; I had found an old friend I had even forgotten missing. He (all my stuffed toys were males) used to lie on my bed every night, keeping me company since I was a little afraid of the dark, and why or how he ended up in a dusty old box of dolls, I'll never know. So there was a reunion, complete with hugs and kisses and a run around the house to show everybody what I'd found. Eventually, though, we ended up back in the cellar. It was quite dark in there, so I lit a lamp to see playing better, and that's when I saw that my (never-named) leopard's tail hung at an awkward angle. Now I remembered the ripping sound from when I'd pulled him out of the box, and my eyes began to tear up as I discovered a hole just where his tail was attached to his body. My first thought was to have him mended as soon as possible, but then another notion took over. Growing up in an open-minded family, and with even more open-minded relatives, I knew the basics of sex. At the very least, I knew the words that would upset adults. I had also seen mating animals on TV, since I had always been a fan of nature programmes. So some part of my mind realised that there was a significance to the placement of the hole, and that realisation woke up a part of my body. In short, I got horny. I stuck a finger inside that hole, never once stopping to think that there should be anything wrong because I was a boy and my plush leopard was a male. It just felt nicely disgusting to know I was poking his arse. Those days, I hardly ever wore more than a pair of brief-sized shorts around the house at summer, so it took me no time at all to get naked. It took a little longer to get hard, though, since the excitement and the delicious nastiness of the whole episode made me nervous, and I had to rub myself time and again to achieve an erection that would last. But in the end, I got ready to mount my toy pet. I aimed my stiff little penis at his hole, then pushed, and there was a slight pain as my foreskin started retracting. I pushed on, though, until I was buried to the hilt (maybe four or five centimetres, two inches at best) in fluffy foam rubber. It was a great feeling, and even though I didn't really know why I did it, I started moving in and out, causing more friction and more nice feelings. I lay down on my back and pushed up as hard as I could, while holding the leopard down with my hands, and it wasn't more than a couple of minutes until I had one of my first real orgasms. Panting and grunting, I pulled out of the leopard's tailhole, then proceeded to clean my little dick from foam rubber. That night, I masturbated twice thinking of what I had done, but didn't achieve orgasm then.
I never did get the hole in my furry little friend fixed. Instead, I made love to him several more times over the next couple of years, until I began to get myself off using only my hands and decided it was a better way than having to pick rubber foam out of every little crevice in my foreskin. Besides, I was getting to big to enter the hole any more, and I had no thought of injuring my beloved pet by enlarging him. But I kept him with me for years after that, and sometimes brought myself off by rubbing my erection against his velvety soft belly. And I still never stopped to think it was anything odd having sex with a male plush leopard.
Unlike most of my stories, this one is true, or at least as true as I remember it. I've still got that plush leopard; re-found it a couple of months ago while cleaning out the aforementioned house before moving out, but these days I can hardly get my little finger into the hole at his tail. Can't believe I was ever that small. Then again, there must be a universal law stating that things were always bigger when you were little. Thoughts and comments are very welcome to firstname.lastname@example.org.