Immaculate Contraption

We’ve been living in our new squat—a two story, disused warehouse in east London—for two weeks now. Since the move four new squatmates have joined the Squallyoaks crew—one Hungarian girl and three Italian guys. My favorite thus far is Dante, an Italian skateboarder with a fetish for crafting homemade sex machines out of found objects. Think Dr. Frankenstein, only way more pervy. He’s so lolz.

Dante is a twenty three and from Sicily. Tall, curly brown hair, lovably geeky—he reminds me of an Italian Seth Cohen. His most noteworthy trait is his obsession with sex. It’s all he talks about. Not in a creepy way; it comes across more as an honest expression of his general intrigue on the subject.

When I first met Dante, within five minutes he was briefing me on his growing interest in DIY sex toys. He said he spends hours thinking up weird ideas for pleasure devices, and then makes them out of silverware, dildos, wood, tools—anything he finds lying around. It’s pretty cool, actually. When I asked to see some of his creations, he eagerly ran off to his bedroom and returned with a large wooden box. From inside he produced what appeared to be a medieval torture device. “This is my latest creation,” he smiled, placing the weighty, metal object into my hands. “I call it Sex Saw. It used to be an electric hand saw, but I’ve removed the saw part and replaced it with this.” He pointed to the large pink dildo fixed to the end of the saw’s body. “This thing makes girls fucking scream. It’s so insane.”

When I asked how it worked, he turned the machine on, causing the dildo to violently thrust forward and back again in a rapid, repeated motion. The thing literally looked like it could kill someone. Either that or generate the most intense orgasm of one’s life—I couldn’t decide. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said with a dopey, self-affirming smile. I nodded graciously, and he began rummaging through the box for more goodies. He pulled out an electric shaver with a kush ball glued to where the razor should be. Next came a medical glove with feathers taped to the tips of each finger. Next a small turnip.

“What’s the turnip for?” I asked.

“Slip this baby into a condom,” he grinned, “and you’ve got yourself a homemade butt plug.” Obviously. “So,” he continued, reaching into the magical chest once again, “have you ever been into piss?”

“Umm, you know… whatever,” I stuttered not wanting to sound like a prude. I mean, I’m not avidly searching out piss sex, but I’m generally pretty keen to adapt to the sexual desires of whoever I’m with at that moment. Don’t knock it ’till you try it, I guess.

“Have you ever done it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I say. This is true. It was kind of lame. It would have been cool if it was more spontaneous, but we stupidly planned it beforehand, which caused for too much preparation. Chugging two pints of water, laying out towels, providing cautionary wet wipes—it totally killed the mood. Then, when it came time to pee, I got stage fright and couldn’t go, so I just sort of awkwardly hovered over his chest in a squatting position for ages before any actual pee came out. Not sexy?

“Well if you’re into piss, this stuff can be handy” he said, holding up a roll of plastic wrap. “The other day a girl wrapped me in this stuff and then pissed all over me. Makes the act a lot more sanitary, ya know?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

After sharing most of his weird box of perversion, Dante packed up his things and returned to his bedroom. I suddenly felt incredibly turned on, overwhelmed by the desire to know what Sex Saw felt like. I contemplated waiting until Dante left the house, then stealing Sex Saw and trying the thing out on myself. However, I reconsidered at the fear that I might fuck up and damage myself beyond repair…



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