Not the intended purpose

Not a fetish.

I've always loved backpacks... The way they feel.... The way the smell...
My friends always called it a fetish, an obsession. That's not what it is, I mean, I know people who are obsessed with shoes, yet they don't get judged. Since I've been living with Phil, I've had to calm my... activities, with them. I didn't want him to think that I'm stranger than I already am.
_~_~_~_~_~_~ Monday ~_~_~_~_~_
Phil had already left for some interview leaving me alone.... I snuck into his room, and eyed the galaxy backpack that limply lay next his bed. It smelt of Phil in here... Not the time for that Dan! It's time for me to come to my true calling.
WARNING: SMUT. OKAY IF YOU DONT LIKE SMUT THEN SKIP ALL THIS UNTIL THE NEXT BOLD TEXT.
I carefully unzipped my black skinny jeans, I hadn't bothered with my belt today, throwing them off. I looked at the "innocent" bag in front of me. I picked up the bag and my jeans and ran to my room. I placed the bag into the bed, unzipping the first compartment, smiling slightly. I pulled off my boxers, looking down at my dick pushing it throw the zip, shivering at the familiar feeling of bumpy metal against my manhood. I began pulling in and out of it getting faster and faster, sweat dripping down my face until I came into the small compartment. I pulled out, zipping it up again.
ALRIGHT I CAN STOP STABBING MYSELF. IT'D HURT LESS THAN WRITING THAT.
Phil wouldn't realise, I mean, who even uses the front compartment? I put it back into Phil's room in roughly the same area before making myself lunch. I microwaved some pizza and ate it in the living room, whilst browsing through tumblr.