Not shagging a milf when women slightly older were shaggable and in my eyes more experienced
Now women that bit older than me are pissing themselves and pushing zimmers about.....
(Cov Boy, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 12:28, 5 replies)

Forbidden fruit
My biggest sexual regret is not getting beyond a passionate kiss with the most beautiful girl I ever knew. But on the other hand, this was a very lucky escape for both of us.

As a young man I got to know a very beautiful girl through a serious of odd coincidences. There was something very special between us: a deep connection, almost as if we knew what each other was thinking. This was despite the fact that when she first met me she thought I was too short, and my ruggedly-handsome mate was also head-over-heels for her. He seemed to have a thing for hair, and she always had great hairstyles. The three of us really hit it off and ended up as a kind of a gang, with a few other folk hanging around with us. We used to get into all sorts of scrapes, and despite the obvious sexual tension within our little trio, we somehow never managed to get off with each other.

But then I got into a big argument with a member of my family. I won’t go into details but it ended very badly for me. The girl somehow realised I was in trouble and alerted the rest of the gang who came to lend a hand and get me to hospital. When she and my pal came to visit it was obvious there was something going on between them. He was really trying to hit on her and she was laughing at him and then, as if to teach him a lesson, she suddenly kissed me passionately on the lips, right in front of him! I couldn’t believe it; it was such an intense feeling after all these years of waiting. Unfortunately I wasn’t in any condition to follow up and we never seemed to find any time alone after that.

God she had a great body: for a while she was wandering round just in a bikini and I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but by then my thoughts about her had changed enormously. I’d been in touch with someone who was an old acquaintance of my father’s, who gave me a message, from beyond the grave, as it were. And, well, let’s just say it was very lucky we never got beyond that kiss. Eventually she and my mate got it together. Unsurprising really, given what they’d been through. We all of us remained close friends. But I can’t help having that slight regret that I never knew what it was like to shag her, even though that would very definitely have been forbidden fruit.
(Smale is stuffed, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 12:06, 24 replies)

I went out for dinner......
with a mate who was home on leave from the Foreign Legion, as he'd been on fairly basic rations for months sadly the rich and spicy Chinese food didn't agree with him........




he suffered a Beau Geste Szeuchan Regressed.
(localboy purveyor of pisspoor puns, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 11:45, 15 replies)

I'm hardly ever on here anymore
But when I saw this question, I couldn't resist posting a cheeky pea...

First off, I'd like to say that I have never told anyone about this. Even, now, in total anonymity, I'm cringing as I type this.

Let me set the scene - I was 18, had recently stopped hanging around with my closest friends (for reasons I can't quite remember now), in a job I hated, when I made a sudden spontaneous decision to take a week-long trip to Amsterdam. I booked the flights, managed to get the holidays short notice, packed up and flew off.

Let me say at this point that you should never go on holiday by yourself. It is probably the single worst holiday I've had, and I've been caravaning in Wales for fuck sake.

Anyway, after wandering around feeling lost and bored, and after getting far more stoned than was good for me, I stumbled across the Red Light District. I haven't seen a bigger collection of ropey-looking underdressed tramps since my last big night out in Glasgow. As a horny teenager, however, I was in a moral dilemma. Would I pay for sex? The inner dispute took about three seconds to come up with the answer : Hell yeah!

The only problem was, I couldn't decide which 'lucky lady' I was gonna have some fun with. Did I want, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, old or young? It's like you've been asked to choose which soul-sucking X-factor fame-hungry wannabe should be beaten to death with their own arm. Too much choice...

I decided to go with the one that caught my eye, that seemed to stand out. As I turned a corner, one of the girls in the windows performed a dance with her hands at her waist, firing them like pistols. This made me laugh, so I stepped up and asked how much.

"50 eauros dahrling" she said in a dodgy Italian accent.

"Lead on" said I.

We moved into the back room, a squalid, yet somehow clinical affair. The place stank of sweat and baby oil. I handed over the money to my hired whore, taking the time to look her over as she counted it.

She was tall, leggy, with long brunette hair, strong features, and a very full bra. She looked good, though I now put this down to a combination of bad lighting and the number of joints I had smoked throughout the day. I was wasted.

"You get undreassed, dahrling?" she said huskily. At this point, I did notice her voice was lower than what I was used to, but figured it must be the same in all Mediterranean women.

I promptly stripped, and joined her on the leather couch. She then proceeded to start sucking on my already hard member, without using a condom. I lay back, enjoying the sensation. It shamefully remains, to this day, one of the best blowjobs I have ever had.

After a while I decided I was ready for action. I tapped her on the head and motioned I was ready for sex. After helping me on with the condom (it's worth repeating that I was pretty fucking wasted) she proceeded to turn her back to me, took my cock in her hand, and helped guide it into what I thought was her 'lady-chamber' (or, for all you foul-mothed fuckers out there, her cunt).

I was really getting into the sex, thrusting away, and she was responding well, making all the right noises. I felt myself approaching the point of no return, so decided it would be a good time to change positions. I stopped, and indicated with what I'm sure was a ridiculous hand motion for her to turn over onto her front.

She looked at me uncertainly. "You suare?" she asked. "What about..." She nodded downwards, I looked down, and her hand seemed to be covering something over her crotch. At this point, I still hadn't cottoned on. I actually said "What about what?" in a genuinely confused tone.

'She' removed her hand, and at this point I probably don't have to tell you what was under there. If you haven't guessed it already, I'll spell it out for you. It was a cock and fucking balls, meat and two veg, David Cameron and his advisers.

She/he looked at me with concerned eyes. "Is okay?"

A million questions swarmed through me at once. Does this make me gay? Can I ever look at myself in the mirror again? Is it too late to ask for my 50 euros back?

Then I realised I had 5 minutes left, and I didn't have enough money for another actual girl. So I shrugged and asked her/him to finish me off with a blowjob. I'll say it again, I was really fucking wasted.

As she/he was sucking away I glanced down and noticed her/his 'full' bra was actually full of toilet paper, and, to make matters worse, the long brunette hair was a long brunette wig. This wasn't even a transsexual, it was a guy in fucking drag.

Somehow, I closed my eyes and climaxed. Afterwards, I couldn't put my clothes on fast enough, and as I was going through the door, all I could say was "That was...interesting"

I went to my hotel room, and took the longest shower I have ever had in my life. The smell of baby oil seemed to linger for days.

Upon returning home, whenever anyone asked me how my holiday was, I said "Fine" and quickly changed the subject. To this day, the smell of baby oil makes me quesy.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the strangest sexual experience I've ever had. Just don't tell anyone else about it.

Please?




P.S I don't apologise for length, but she bloody well should have.
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 11:42, 23 replies)

Not a regret.
She was the older sister of a friend of a friend. Jet black hair and bright blue eyes that only a Celt girl could have. She walked into the kitchen smiled and said “Hello”. BANG! I felt like I’d been smacked in the head with a brick. My whole body was tingling, I though I was going to pass out she was so beautiful.

I’ve never felt anything like it before or since.

I reckon most of these stories are so keenly felt because they hark back to a time when a single look from a girl could give you the biggest hit of your life. Before experience makes one blase, bitter or both.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Tue 13 Dec 2011, 11:19, 6 replies)

Lots of the interesting stories of here are followed by comments of "liar", which is very off-putting.
Judging by lots of stories on here, many of you seem to have had a strictly heterosexual and mostly monogamous approach to sex. This doesn't apply to all of us. Most of my friends are not what you'd call conventional. I will resist posting some of my more weird and adventurous memories, cos they probably won't be believed.
(IHateSprouts is baking a huge pie shaped like an enormous pie, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 11:11, 22 replies)

I introduced two exes to each other at a party
...and they spent the whole evening snogging and flirting in front of me, then later came upstairs to a friend's room where I was sleeping on the floor and had loud sex in the bed next to me.

I saw the funny side the next morning, though.
(IHateSprouts is baking a huge pie shaped like an enormous pie, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 11:06, 4 replies)

It took me three decades to realize...
...that my ideal woman was a lesbian.

Not anything mundane like being into the het-porn idea of a lesbian, but just incidentally lesbian. With interests, physical characteristics, and demeanor which I had somehow lived an embarrassing percentage of my sexually active life without noticing were stereotypically lesbian.

Apart from getting shot down more than should be reasonable, it can do a number on your head when a significant number of your significant partners finish off by swearing off men altogether.
(Larry_Mudd, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 5:09, 4 replies)

Only one:
That I spent almost all of my teenage years telling any pretty girls that tried to talk to me to "fuck off", out of a combination of self-loathing, crippling depression and a frightening dependence on being astronomically drunk before I'd even think about leaving the house.
( PMGT -Bacon., Tue 13 Dec 2011, 4:24, 18 replies)

when I was a nipper I used to earn a few bob doing car washing for friends of my dad
one of them used to have the pride of telling his professional associates his car was personally hand washed by 'his car washing service' despite the fact it was a crappy volvo 240 saloon in average condition in an uninspiring shade of puddle-mud blue and his 'car washing service' was a 14-year old boy.

The cash was useful and his missus was a pleasant 'aunty'-type figure, full of encouragement and chat while her hubs was off at the pub watching football while his wife was home watching after their 3 year old daughter and doing a lot of sighing.

At the time I was obviously a 14-year old full of The Horn and she wasn't unattractive, even if she had a snorty laugh (think Sybil Fawlty here for irritating) and yet, physically curvy (not personal ad 'curvy' meaning chubby, properly 50s starlet hourglass) and I figured her out to be, perhaps, 38? That's not too old to shag if youget it offered you on a plate is it? Even with the orange lipstick?

So anyway, fantasy ran riot in my imagination, that if only the circumstances were correct then maybe she'd one day, open the front door and let me in to the house with a button or two undone from her blouse, and then bend over to get something out of the fridge, catch me looking at her tits and purr' so see anything you want?'.

This never actually happened. Imagination is a sod, after all.

But three years later when she left her husband and took their daughter off to live alone in a cold squalid council house, my mum and dad took her under their wing a bit and seeing that she would spend that Christmas alone , invited her and her young daughter over for Christmas day.

The day starts, everyone is mindful of manners, I'm pleased that this half-attractive woman is making Christmas a bit more interesting than waiting for the queen's speech, let's face it, who wants to secretly check out the queen's breasts below a fluffy knitted tight jumper? But it's the festive season so wine is imbibed, aperetifs are sunk, converstaion gets louder and lewder and eventually the drinkers in the household flag a bit.

Dad turns off the christmas carols on the radio and puts on a bit of slow dance music on Radio 2. The guest lady is tipsy and wants a slow dance but dad dares not oblige with my mum in the same house. The lady approaches me with a sultry grin and a wink and asks me for a slow dance.

Manners override my reluctance and indeed my libido is saying YES! so I politely hold her at arms length while she sashays around the lounge Ummming and Ahhing. When the music ends for the track she murmurs in my ear 'if you weren't so young I'd have my wicked way with you....'

all the rest of my life has been a slightly cross wondering a) what might have been and b) if you're going to sex up a 17 year old then why stop? it's LEGAL!

Fortunately since then I have had sex so have managed to get over it.
(the zord of damocles 7F 22 78, Tue 13 Dec 2011, 0:17, 7 replies)

Ron Jeremy's parents
had a huge sexual rugrat.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 23:39, 4 replies)

The things you will do to see a girl topless...
When I was about 15 a family moved three doors down from us. They had a daughter who was one year younger than me - I shall call her Mandy for that was her name. She was, shall we say, well developed. (Or so I thought, having seen her more recently what I thought were large breasts at the time were actually just getting started....)

Being a fairly small town there weren't a lot of kids of the same age in the area, maybe half a dozen of us hanging around the street and messing around. I'm not sure what started it but being the usual stupid young man I ended up teasing her quite a lot. She responded by trying to punt me in the love spuds as young ladies are sometimes wont to do.

Of course, her assets had come to my attention but as usual when you are that age you have no idea what to do about it. It came as a surprise when another friend mentioned to me that Mandy was interested in me. However, the odd part was that apparently her method or getting men alone was, shall we say, unusual... Apparently she didn't aim for the plums just for a laugh, kicking men in the nuts really turned her on and if you were one she was aiming for she really wanted you...

I wasn't sure whether to believe this, especially when he told me that all I had to do was let her kick me in the nuts and she'd take me to her house to 'check the equipment'....

The next few days were what you could call an agony of indecision... The idea of being kicked in the balls was against all being a man meant. However, the chance of getting closer to that body was extremely tempting...

She did aim for my nuts a few times but self preservation kicked in. One evening though there was just me and her hanging around the street and she was wearing a top that left very little to the imagination. The temptation was just too much. I knew how much a kick to the nuts would hurt but the promise of those puppies... Well, it seemed worth it to my hormone addled brain.

Before long, the now familar boot was aimed at my nuts and I managed to over-rule my brain and just stood there and took it.

That was the point when my teenage fantasy was replaced by harsh reality....

By not making any effort to dodge, her boot made what must have been perfect contact with my babymakers. The next minute or so is a bit of a haze. I don't remember actually going from standing up to being curled up in a ball on the ground moaning. I vaguely remember throwing my tea up. I vividly remember her standing over me, obviously 'enjoying' it a lot and making it clear she thought my less than a man for not taking the kick without flinching. It became very clear that all that was in prospect for the rest of the evening was a considerable amount of testicular agony.

She went off shortly after that, I spend the next half an hour cradling my aching balls rather than exploring her naked body. I never did find out whether my friend was deliberately leading me on or whether he had been taken in as well. What I do know is that I never got any closer to naughtiness with her and made sure my nuts were well out of the firing line when I was anywhere near her in future...

Mind you, I later found out that I got out of it lightly. She got a reputation for kicking men in the nuts which was only stopped when she put two men in hospital. She had also been shagging around for years and had so many STDs that any new ones didn't stand much chance...
(Slave to Percy, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 20:09, 1 reply)

First Love
Way, way back in the early 1970's when I was a wee, pimply lad in high school, I fell in love with a girl a year younger than me - Cynthia Knight. She had rather well developed breasts for a 14 year old. Things lasted only two months, when she dumped me for my best mate (David Drain - known as "Draino"). Still, I picked up his girlfriend, the flat chested Merridee.

Several years later, I ended up with Cynthia again, but that lasted only a few months (time for some decent kissing / pashing / snogging). Then, a few years later again, after I had finished my first year at university, and Cindy had just finished school, we ended up together again. One warm summer afternoon, she was around my (actually, my parents place), swimming in the pool in the back yard. After a while. we took a break, and ended up on the sofa in the living room. One thing led to another, and soon her bikini top was off, revealing her magnificent mammaries, upon which I lavished much hand and oral attention. We decided my bed would be far more comfortable, so before long we were on my bed, naked - she was giving my now erect member some much needed attention, and I was exploring the inner areas of her wet lady parts.

Now, I was still a nervous virgin at this time, and was worried about going "all the way" - what if I was hopeless at it, or I did something wrong? So I wimped out - and she then dumped me.

Now, a few years ago, I found her again via a schoolfriends site - I was surprised that she remembered me, but said "I still have a photo of us together that was taken at your birthday in 1973." She was living in Brisbane, working as a nurse there (I was, of course, on the other side of the world, in Mississippi). We would send friendly messages via Facebook. Then, I lost my job, and all my email contacts and archives and stuff remained on my old work computer. I tried to contact her again, but she wasn't on Facebook, not under her maiden name at least.

So there are two lots of regrets- once as a teenager, because of my inexperience and fear to take that final step, and again as a much older and wiser (who am I kidding!) adult, because I foolishly didn't have a backup of all my email contacts.

If you are out there, somewhere, Cynthia - I still think about you all the time, regretting that I didn't take up the offer of what would have been wonderful lovemaking that you were giving to me on a plate - I'm sure I really hurt your feelings by what seemed to be a cold rejection.

Apologies for the length - she never got to experience it either.
(Maclir, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 19:48, 10 replies)

I once had sex with a trainee plumber from Wythenshawe that I picked up in bar. (Those from Manchester will understand).
He was high on fuck knows what at the time and pummelled away for far too long. I was drunk but didn't want to be rude and tell him to stop. He gave up eventually.

The scary thing is that my low self esteem secured a re-match with said bit of rough in a tent in the Lake District. After smoking crack cocaine with his mates in another tent, he started to get frisky but then became paranoid that people would hear us and once again gave up.

Not THE biggest sexual regret but one that still makes me want to smack myself about the head.
( girlinthehole, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 19:17, 6 replies)

Wanking to this
tinyurl.com/co93jtg

was a bad idea.
(Vigilante Man weeps because you're stupid., Mon 12 Dec 2011, 17:48, 8 replies)

Long Pearoast
So I was working in a rough-as pub in Hammersmith (part of a famous chain that keeps old alcoholics heated through the winter). I was working in this pub because I had just moved down to the big smoke and needed some cash for rent and stuff.

Now, there are many aspects of working in the pub that were awful (the customers mainly; but the hours, low pay, increased night bus travel all were particular joys) but there were some things that were brilliant. I worked with some amazing people (who, 10 years later are still amongst my closest friends). I had never met an Aussie before, but now I knew loads of them.

One of the girls I worked with was super cute. She was Aussie, funny, loud and really fit....and for some reason, after about a couple of months working together she developed a major crush on me.

One night we were all out at the Palais (RIP) when she took me away from the others on the dancefloor and started thoroughly 'pashing' me as she would describe it. Suffice to say I was really rather pleased with this development.

Now, this same evening the staff from a different pub were also at school disco. These guys used to take their breaks in our pub, as we took our breaks at theirs. One of the girls who worked in there was Polish, chubby, quite pretty and also had the hots for me. (Take it for granted that I am not an oil painting, but I was used to fat lasses liking me). She also, I knew, partook in the occasional bout of lady flirting. I have no idea if it ever went further than this, but I certainly had seen her snog girls.

So, at the end of the night my lovely Aussie came over to me. it was obvious that she and I were going to go back to hers and have some messy (and probably embarrassing) shenannigans. But I was a little surprised to see that she had the Polish girl with her.

"Big Fella" she said "xxxxxxxx says she would like to come back with us. I said it was up to you, but I thought it would be fun".

Well, as you can imagine, i was slightly startled. I mean, I was blatently and openly being odffered a threesome..... I only wish I realised that. I, because I am an idiot, thought that having another girl there would mean that me and my Aussie lady friend would not be able to get up to any messy and embarrassing shenannigans. So I said No.

No.

To a threesome.

With two ladies.

And I would be allowed to play.

Nude.

With two ladies.

I'm a dick.
(Thebigfella, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 17:17, 2 replies)

Chlamydia Fingers
I cut through a tendon in my left hand which needed many months of physio and recuperation. During this time something a little odd happened to my left hand nails on the index and middle finger; just by the cuticle something odd was happening.
The hand guards were off and I was ready for action. I was at a festival and ended up fingering a very nice lady who I had been courting of late.
Cut to a couple of weeks later when something called an overgranulation started spouting out of my cuticle and my nails started to grow off my fingers with no new growth of nail. Had a myriad of tests and antibiotics over the course of a 3 month period.
At one point during this I explained the above festival story to the Doc and he said that it could be chlamydia so I gamely told the lady this was the case.
Turned out just to be a stupid infection and I embarrassed myself and the lady who never spoke to me again.
I'm right handed so I'm really not sure why I used my left; but now I never do.
I ended up having both nails surgically removed and my friends mercilessly taking the piss out of me for years too....
(SlowLoris among the pigeons., Mon 12 Dec 2011, 17:00, 2 replies)

Yellow fluffy dusters
Age 17, I'd just passed my driving test, and I was making the most of being one of the few cool kids with their own car in our sixth form.

I'd had an on/off relationship with a nice youny lady called Em for some time, but being so young, we were always breaking up for a few days, getting back together, calling each other on our parents' landlines after school and arguing etc etc. It was never a sold relationship that was set to last.

Anyway - during one of the periods of 'broken up', I took a fond interest in Emma's best friend, a nice but rather needy young lady who I shall call Rachael, as her real name is so unique that this post would probably frontpage google if I put it in! 16 year old Rachael had never had a boyfriend, but showed a great interest in me. So one lunchtime at school, I went for a 'drive' up to a local park with Rachael, parked up, and we ended up kissing and groping in the front seat of my G-reg Fiesta. Within minutes she'd unzipped my cheap and itchy polyester school trousers and was giving her first ever blowjob. Come to think of it, I don't think I'd had one before that day either!

Well, after a few minutes of southerly pleasure, the inevitable happened, she shot back up from my lap with a grimacing look on her face and a rather gargled 'oh my GOD' and gestured that she might be sick. I gave her the only thing that I had to hand to help her clean up - a yellow duster that I used to de-mist the windows, which left lots of yellow fluffy bobbles on her top lip as she wiped her face.

The regret you ask? That despite this promissing start with Rachael, I got back with Emma, who was much less adventurous and rarely if ever offered such treats. And then we broke up a year later anyway.

Feeling like she wanted to get back at me for going back to Em, Rachael called me out of the blue a few months later to tell me that she now had a proper boyfriend, and she'd 'let him do her up the arse' and everything! I had really missed out!
(harrypitta friends with the chilli saucerer, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 16:56, 41 replies)

I regret living in the Southern Railways area
Many years ago, I had met a lovely young girl. Unfortunately she was in a relationship at that time, but we hit it off and became friends. Mostly it was over email, as she lived in a different town, but we moved in the same circles so I saw her often enough. I was playing the "long game", hoping that at some point in the future we'd get together, and meanwhile making sure that she saw all that was good in the world of Moon Monkey (and none of the sick, twisted stuff).

There came a fateful day when it all seemed to be coming together. She was now single, and we planned to spend the day together. After a lovely day out where we really seemed to be connecting, she went home to change before a night of dancing that would - I hoped - develop into debauchery.

As it turned out, I spent the evening hanging around the railway station, because the line was closed due to some inconsiderate sod who had jumped in front of a train. I found this out in the mail she sent the next day to apologise, in which she also mentioned that she'd accepted a job on the other side of the country, and was leaving in a week. I never saw her again, and the emails gradually dried up.

Bastard Southern Railways cost me a shag. Probably.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 16:07, 2 replies)

DOwn and out in LA
I don't think I've ever told this to anyone. You'll see why.

I was 26 and very, very desperate. And not especially fussy. I was working in a call-centre in Los Angeles and - God knows how - ended up flirting with the woman on the other end of the line. She was, she informed me breathlessly, "big, black and horny as hell." I was white, weedy and - she informed me - sounded like Prince Charles. (I don't, really I don't, but there you go...)

So not a match made in heaven you'd think. Still, we arranged to meet. She lived in Watts, a part of LA that weedy white boys don't go to, at least not if they've read Bonfire Of The Vanities.

I went. She was waiting outside her condo, smoking. Her description of herself was accurate, although she had omitted to say she'd be wearing curlers. She was big in a way that Americans have made their speciality. The whole, er, package, is not one that has ever appealed to me, before or since. But for some weird reason, I was persuaded to drive to a remote area where - in the words of a tabloid newspaper - she performed a sex act on me. As I looked down at her curlers.

She loved my English accent. She wanted my number! I gave her a fake one and, crawling with shame and self-loathing, dropped her back home and high-tailed it back to the safety of Santa Monica.

I regret every aspect of that evening, and what it says about me. The desperation, the deceit, the misogynistic and racist undertones.

Still, a blow-job's a blow-job, eh?
(Hurple Pelmet, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 15:53, 11 replies)

Future sexual regret?
A few years before I got married to Mrs Airman Gabber we were out in some pub or other with another couple. In some laddish drunken conversation the idea of threesomes in general was discussed. My friends bird said that wasn't her cup of tea but the Mrs said she wouldn't be averse to the FFM thing and in her teens did get an offer of sex with another woman but never followed it up, which she sort of regrets.

I mentioned it a few years later in another drunken converation and she said,"I told you. If you sort it out. But you never did."

Many (still) happily married moons have passed and this tempting notion is still in the back of my mind but I have Teh Fear that if I did go ahead she'd either be outraged I really tried to set it up or that if we did go ahead that we'd see something in eachother (fnarr) that may change everything for the worse. I wouldn't want that at all.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 15:51, 10 replies)

This is my biggest regret ever.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8u_lQrmHXRk
(username failed moderation, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 15:01, Reply)

it was just horrible.
I regret being in the wrong place at the wrong time to witness a larger lady get (what I can only assume from the angle and thrust) fisted in the middle of a club where the drinks were 50p. The gentlmen fister was having a merry time, his forearm lost in black lycra. In true car crash mode I was dumbstruck by this act. But I kept my bunch of cheap drink down and walked away. live and let live and all that.
( Ya What Skiddlyboop, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 13:15, 4 replies)

You can never go back
She was someone I'd had a relationship with long ago: we had a very strong connection and a lot of very good sex. But then I moved away and she met someone else so the physical side stopped. But we kept in touch: sometimes e mails were flirty, other times plain dirty, occasionally we went months or even years without communicating. Then one day I received a mail asking if I'd like to meet up again. This was quite a shock - I hadn't seen her in 15 years or so, and I had thought we'd never see each other again. But she was insistent: her circumstances had changed, she really wanted to see me again, and it was pretty obvious from her message that she was curious to see if the sexual chemistry was still there too.

So we arranged to meet up somewhere neutral: it was a long journey for both of us. I picked her up off the train, and we were like two teenagers again, all hot flushes and giggling. We went to a hotel, and pretended to be a normal couple. We chatted, and kissed a bit: there was certainly tension in the air. We went to dinner, I drank too much, we went to bed. I was fat and uncommunicative, she was dry and sore. It was not a great success. We fell asleep, and we both snored.

Next day we tried again, but it wasn't any better. We both blamed each other. I drove her to the station in silence. On my way home I received a text saying that it was over, finally, definitively. My regret is that we even tried it again: my memories now are of that last, awful shag. 15 years is a long time. You can never go back.
(Smale is stuffed, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 12:55, 2 replies)

I once went to a haunted house that was so awful, all it had was half a dozen Cypriot zombies!

Those are my six eerie Grecs.

sorry.
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Mon 12 Dec 2011, 12:45, Reply)

I was 17
This story for me - is embarrassing, regretful, yet its a regret I can live with.

I was 17, and madly fancied another girl in my class, maybe even loved her, everyone knew this was so also. She was stunning. Perfect body, perfect ass, boobs - the lot. She was in the top 10 fittest girls of the school - easily. I had asked her out already, and had been declined. She did the same subjects as me in college, she would sit next to me in class.. everything. It was the perfect teenage crush. Every day was a rush when she was there. It was like a drug, and I couldn’t get enough of it. If she wouldn’t go out with me, at least seeing her every day was good enough. I hated 3pm on Fridays & weekends, and loved Mondays.

The problem was, I simply thought I wasn’t good enough for her. Stereotype Teenager was I, Braces, skinny, broken voice etc. So i never noticed any advance from her.

We were badly behind on our Coursework, so one day she invited me round to her Nans house, as she was minding it whilst she was away. I turned up to what was going to be a group study, cover off a few assignments drink lots of coffee, work until very early morning. We had done it before with 3 or 4 of us. It was quite a good way of getting a few difficult assignments out of the way - together.

Instead - only I turned up, so it was us two - alone. We didn’t do any studying, she cooked me some dinner. We sat and watched Titanic... then went to bed.

Knowing my luck wouldn’t be in, I instantly headed for the couch to get my head down, but was awestruck when she said instead I should head to her nans bed with her.

So (doing little Dances in my head) I picked myself up and walked into the main bedroom with her, then lay down next to her.

Thinking - no BELIEVING that this girl was not interested in me, meant I lay there next to her and didn’t move.. too scared to ruin the moment. For me, things couldn’t get any better than this... in my naive eyes, she didn’t fancy me
so this would be the next best thing I would remember for a long time.

Should I even have mentioned to her that we should even hug/cuddle - may result in her brushing me off and never speaking to me again. To me, this was the best option... to lay there next to her and not speak.... for 9 Hours. But in my Hormone enraged eyes, they were the best 9 hrs of my life.
My face was a kin to an happy excited Dougle from father ted. Confused with the next thing to say.
I had been closer to her than this before. like when we had our photo taken in a photobooth and she sat on my lap giving me a semi... but this was different. It was on a bed for starters... I don’t think I had ever even been near a bed - with a girl before.

I lay there, wide awake for the remainder of the night. I didn’t bother her. Instead I thought of all the ways I could say hello to her, but instantly rubbishing them.

The next morning it took me until the front door closed behind me, for my logical head to start working again. The rest of that day I felt like my heart was broken, such was the regret.

We moved on shortly after that, nothing ever happened between us. But with each day my brain matures, I look back with a little more regret.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 12 Dec 2011, 12:02, 9 replies)