Not having sexOur pal Freddie Woo says: Climbing into the back seat of the car, she sat on a fortnight-old bag of food shopping I had completely forgotten about. The stench of a bag of bean sprouts popping open is a real passion-killer, I can tell you for nothing. Tell us about the shag you didn't have because you blew it.
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 22 May 2014, 14:01)
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I think I'm doing it right.Many many years ago I served with the RFW 157th Plonkers.
Now this was back in the day when they didn't allow girlies and nancyboys to be members of His Royal Highnesses Armed Forces. We were often away from our families for months at a time on passive duty or just performing exercises so our conjugal arrangements became quite regimented. We had a couple of chappies in our midst who despite loving their wives a great deal were right proper bugger-boys. So of an evening after a busy day of wandering semi-deserted streets, if it was your allotted time and day you had the choice of laying with Francis or Stephen. It was that or some vigorous onanism whilst visiting the latrine pit.
Many in our motley crew enjoyed the delicious delights of young Stephen's mouth and the skill with which he used it to bring about a lingering and pleasant climax. It was said of Stephen that he could quite easily start one of the old diesel Cruisers by sucking on it's exhaust pipe! And as the chief mechanic in our platoon this was somewhat fitting.
Some of the more discerning of us chose the company of Franny. With a slighter build and a smaller frame Francis was most definitely the more effeminate of the two and thus easily the more alluring and as the tracker of our group there was little chance of losing him. The sensuousness of stroking the downy hair on his pert white buttocks was just immeasurable and quite beyond compare. And the utter delights to be beheld when he spread those cheeks makes me shudder with anticipation to this very day.
During a particularly hard posting in some Eastern European place we found ourselves patrolling through an urban environment built upon the ancient ruins of a castle and surrounding moat. This was our area to deploy to and control. Fortunately on the day we came across no violence or opposition. Since there was a lul in the proceedings I chose to steal a few moments with Francis and enjoy some much needed manual relief near the old water-course. He had been busy all morning following trails in the fresh snow and as he manipulated me in his soft, tender hands he reported that all the trails seemed to lead to the gates and nowhere else. Whilst we were obliging each other Francis exclaimed, "Bugger me!". "Actually it's usually one or the other." I purred into his bobbing ear.
Just as I was approaching my explosive jizz-plosion he panted at me - "No lieutenant, "I've just noticed another trail through the snow. Leading right up to where the water was!".
And that's when I realised that I had a piste in my own moat.
(, Sat 24 May 2014, 8:18, 4 replies)
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