Sam kept a five dollar electric back massager in the bottom of his backpack from the time he was thirteen years old. It had reliably gotten him off for six years before it died of old age, buried at the bottom of his trash can after an abrupt ceremony. He hadn’t felt comfortable buying a real one until he didn’t have to contend with Dean finding him at the back of a Spencer’s Gifts, staring at a bright pink rabbit that looked impossibly thick.
“It won’t fit. You can’t even handle three fingers,” he’d joke, and Sam felt white hot shame burning the back of his throat. Instead, he picked a purple vibrating wand.
Sam had other ideas beyond his vibrator, things he wanted to try when he was able to be completely alone. That only came in his junior year when he finally got a small apartment of his own, and he could really experiment. He brought the waterproof vibrator into the shower and nearly cracked his head open, he masturbated on the couch while watching X-Files reruns, though what he liked best was stripping totally naked and fucking himself until he was trembling on his bed.
That was, until he found a silk nightgown at the thrift store.
It only tempted him so much because it looked like it would fit him, it might just fall a bit higher than intended. He bought it without a second thought.
Sam couldn’t even get himself to look at the nightgown the first night: he shoved it in the back of his closet and did his routine as per usual, though it lingered in the back of his mind. The next night he looked at it, thought about grabbing it and trying it on to see if it actually fit, but he shut the closet again and masturbated until he was squirting onto a towel he’d laid underneath him. Finally, the third night, he put it on.
Immediately he felt some kind of way about the lace swirling around his upper thighs, grazing his pussy and sending a shock through his body. He went out to the living room with his trusty vibrator in hand, keeping the TV off so he could see his own reflection as he got himself off.
Sam was sure he was going to get the police at his door the way he moaned, gripping the cushion and crying out as he watched his reflection writhe. He felt hot, he looked fucking hot, and he got a sickly-sweet thrill out of the idea of keeping this all to himself. Not even Dean would know about this.
He lovingly tucked it back in the closet when he was done, staring at it like a lover, wondering why he’d never thought of doing this until now. Sam fingered himself in bed remembering how he looked, leg kicked up as he ground the wand against his clit, his pussy spread open for just himself. It almost felt liberating.