How I was worried sick (may contain too much information)
I have a muscle toner, and thought it may offer some hands-free stimulation. But the pads were quite large and the one I attached to my barse dug into the very top of my inside leg. So I got a set of small self-adhesive pads off ebay, the sort that are used in facial toners.

After a bit of experimentation, I got them in the right position. One at the base on the body side, and one underneath where the scrotum joins the penis. I started cranking up the power and the tingling was enough to give me a serious boner. I turned it up some more and it was causing the muscle to flex, the muscle you use to make your penis lift up and down.

Normally when lying on my back I can achieve a good 30 degrees lift by myself, using electricity it went to 45 degrees. I lowered the frequency from a 2 second pulse to one that was about 0.2 seconds, which was also slightly higher power. My member almost rose almost perpendicular and was hard enough to knock nails in with. With the addition of a bit of manual help, I was done in no time at all. I cleaned up and put the device away.

Later that day, something didn't feel right. The end felt a bit numb. I could feel me touching it when I went for a pee, and I could feel pain as I nipped the skin with my nails, but there was no pleasurable feeling. Later that night in bed, Mrs SLVA did her usual trick of fruiting me up enough to get me going and then just abandon me. I couldn't get it up, I got a semi at most. I claimed I was tired.

I wasn't tired, I was worried. Had I burnt out my penis? Had I somehow damaged certain nerves, the wrong bloody ones as far as I was concerned. I was panicking inside now. We have quite an active sex life considering we've been together over 20 years and the thought that it might be over was scaring me. It seemed the thought was enough to get me erect, but there was no sensation to keep it there and it would go down again very quickly. And this was during her post-menstrual week of unstoppable horniness.

That's how it was for almost 6 days, then suddenly it wore off and I was no longer impotent. Thank Christ.

I won't be doing that again.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 16:13, Reply)

Well...
When I laughs I farts and when a farts I shits myself.
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 16:08, Reply)

Can we have a new question now, please, Mr/Mrs/Ms/Dr Scaryduck?

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 16:04, 7 replies)

Madeleine McCann

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 14:48, 2 replies)

MELONS! :D
Oh Dear..

I've written about this before, but I can't be arsed to find the post.

**********************************

Wanking when young was an act of desperation... It was to fulfil a need. Wanking in later years became more of an art-form... finding novel ways to achieve the ultimate goal became my vocation, and if you can imagine it, I've probably tried it.

You've read about my horrifying disaster with a napkin ring, when, though a series of errors and ignorance around the working of the erectile properties of the one-eyed trouser-gopher I ended up on my knees, engorged and metal-clad cock in one hand and Dremel in the other... This one however falls below that in terms of horrifying moments... but none-the-less represents what must be one of man's more horrific blunders in the name of self gratification.

The phrase to describe man's needs "Warm, tight and wet" is, in honesty a bit bland, but as a teenager in love with ejaculation, my goal was to replicate those conditions, and Fuck it. A typical week's R&D would go like this...

Hot Sponge.
This proved to be too "cleaning" and I cleaned a lot of skin off my bellend. Ouch.

Hot Sponge Mod 1.
With Soap!! (see, I wasn't stupid). Cleans skin off bellend, and STINGS MORE. BUGGER.

Hot Spoinge with "Shammy" leather liner.
Smooooth and yummy. With added Body lotion... Better! SUCCESS!!! (but leaves weird streaks on the car)

Most teenagers are infamous for spending suspiciously long in the bathroom... I possibly had them trumped by being the only lad who'd take half the garage with him.

What I though would be the culmination of my work would the the only logical extension of the "shagging an orange" theory. Oranges are acidic, they have sharp pips and they are SMALL. We needed something less acidic and larger. MELONS!!!

The only thing that a melon naturally lacked was warmth.

My parents were out, I used to live in the country, and we had just got a microwave. Excellent. Not one to master the power settings, I plumped for "turbo". I nuked the melon in 30 second bursts, waiting until the outside felt good and warm. 5 minutes later we were ready to rock.

I retired upstairs with a hole-saw and a drill, and proceeded to remove a neat 52mm diameter slice of potentially sharp and hard skin.. This was going to be sublime... then, using the handle of a wooden spoon, I poked a "pilot" hole into the soft melon-flesh.... it was easy....

I nudged my teenage boy-hood, soft and forgiving melon-flesh grudgingly gave way, and satisfied that I'd found a perfect home for my throbbing friend, I thrust home.....

*****************************************

My mum noticed a week or two later that the "burn-eze" was no long near the stove, but I never let on. That tube lasted for 3 weeks... I then had to use Savlon.

Apparently (I learned later on) the hardish parabolic skin of a melon concentrates the microwaves into the center. As I'd penetrated through the center it felt far softer than the rest... not only that, but it fizzed. I had become possibly the first person to thrust into a sugar-rich BOILING center of a cantaloupe.

I walked funny for a month.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 30 Jun 2011, 14:42, 6 replies)

In which Humpty pushes the PeaRoast limits beyond the funny....
Now.. Midsummer in Sweden is one HELL of a party. I've been here for a good few years, and I can't remember a single Midsummer where people haven't got royally rat-arsed, or fallen over while dancing round the giant phallic symbol that we erect for the party: Rinsing your recently abused pallette of rotten fish with large quantities of Vodka and Akvavit can get you more drunk than you'd care to imagine.. but as for the frog-dance there is no excuse.

Anyway... there's lots of rampant alcohol fuelled shagging that goes on. This night I was going to become another statistic.

6am, and the missus and I have swayed home in the lazy and meandering way that the drunks have perfected over an eternity of liver-abuse... We were determined to nail each other to the bed when we get home. Now.. to be fair to her she was awesome in bed, it's just that this night was about to go wrong. Terribly terribly wrong.

We'd both been drinking for nearly 12 hours straight. We were both obscenely drunk... I could hardly keep my body erect, let alone Mr Winky. Missus Humpty decided that - as sitting on my face was always a dead-cert for trouser-snake charming - she'd hoik her grass-stained dress up, and ride my face.. This she did. Rather hard. I'm not only used to this, but a great fan to boot. My tongue worked away at her feverishly, her cute puckered barking-spider a bare few milimeters from my nose. I was in heaven, and - riding my face like a drunken pro - so was she.

She was sat in the perfect position to tug away at any signs of life, and as she and I both neared the point of no return I - mouth full of mimsy - was forced to heave air through my nose at a colossal rate, much like a jet-fighter at full throttle just before take-off....

We both came.... and - as fate would have it - the orgasm ripping through her body caused her to grind down harder on my face.. and fart: forcefully injecting un-diluted rectal gasses into my air-hungry nose.

A FULLL force, and totally ripe, hot Surströmming fart (far worse than the initial burst of smell from the tin), CLEAN up my nostrils. The reaction was instant.. and completely unaware of her crime and mistaking my convulsions as throws of exstacy, Mrs Humpty ground down harder on my face as I gasped for air.. The enormity of my horror peaked as, in the full grip of natural bolidy rejection, I hoyed my alocohol-rich stomach content, including a large amount of undigested, rotten fish, straight up her pink mitten.

As the fetid herring now deeply stuck in my nostrils caused me to start a gagging fit that threatened to be my last, She ran screaming to the bathroom leaving a trail of stomach acid, alcohol and rotten chunks of fish behind her on the floor as it gushed from her burning mimsy.



Never combine stomach acid, rotten fish, and oral sex. It *really* isn't fun.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 30 Jun 2011, 14:37, 3 replies)

You know how sometimes your mind wanders off, and you find yourself somewhere, doing something
and you've no real idea of how you got there or what lead to it?

I just found myself looking at the website for Mel and Sue (Perkins).

Wow.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 14:08, 5 replies)

Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Idunnop!
Idunnopoo?
AHAHAHAHAHA that's hot ... smear it on my face and tits.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:34, 2 replies)

Just been trying to make a lunchtime snack
Spent 10 mins trying to get a slice of bread into the DeLonghi but it's gone haywire, it keeps spitting the slice all the way across the kitchen, just because I referred to it as an overpriced pretentious piece of crap.

That must be my Bread Zoom Dissed Toaster.
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:32, Reply)

Oh man, I have to tell you this story:
One time, I went to sleep in my shit and when I woke up, there was a bed in the corner!
It was like SO TOTALLY A DISASTER LOL
( Frisbee TeaBoy, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:22, Reply)

Back in 1946 I was asked by Joseph Stalin to build a nuclear weapon.
Unfortunately my experiments came to nothing, and he had me executed.
That was my Red Boom Disaster.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:21, 2 replies)

I once picked up a girl
we went back to hers and had a perfectly pleasant night together. Next morning we decided that really it wasn't going to be anything more than that, had coffee and parted on very good terms and even said hello to each other when we ran into each other again.

True story.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:19, 5 replies)

I like to get drunk and pick up guys
When we get back to mine, I like to give them laxatives so that they poo on me and then I smear it all over myself.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:16, 4 replies)

So this one time I went back to a lfat with a girl, and she gave me something odd to drink.
When I woke up I was wearing a tuxedo, on stage with a jazz band, singing "Ski bi di bi dibby dibby do do boo, etc."
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Thu 30 Jun 2011, 13:14, 1 reply)