» The worst sex I ever had

Dripping Wet
When I was a younger man with greater stamina I was a young girl's first partner. Every time we had sex we had to stop some minutes in because she thought her bladder was going to explode. Being of only slightly more experience I reassured her that this pressure was the sign of a beautiful orgasm and she should go with it.

I had no idea matresses were so expensive
(Fri 15th Jun 2007, 11:58, More)

» Stalked

mistake
I was once working on a boat in the Atlantic. From this boat various camera crews filmed pieces about Sperm whales and their dirty habits. One crew had a dumb blonde flirty busty presenter whose audience you could tell wouldn't give two hoots about how deep a whale can dive, they'd be too busy looking at the 2 hoots in the wetsuit. Talking to her it turned out her dad was a bit of an East London geezer who, more than once, would give her a stash of Gucci bags to sell to her 13 year old school mates.

Anyway, when she started in the presenting game she began to frequently see an older man sat on the wall of the house opposite her new pad of a morning. Convinced of impending dangers she told her dad of this filthy man. The next morning the man was there again so her dad, who was lying in wait, went over and kicked the shit out of him, apparently breaking his arm. After taking this slightly scary story on board, and finally wrestling my eyes from her bustier for the first time since i met her, i jokingly asked if there was a bus stop outside her place. She paused. Thought hard. And said there was. As the penny still hadn't dropped her producer had to explain to her that she'd probably been the cause of the capping of an innocent commuter. She still thought he was a stalker...

That wetsuit though.... Oooo
(Thu 31st Jan 2008, 20:06, More)

» My Greatest Regrets

Heavy Object
I regret looking after my friend's two gerbils. They escaped one day, and while it was easy to find one, the other evaded capture for hours. After the nth time of lifting the sofa, there it was. I was so surprised I dropped the furniture. On it's little head. The burning swell of shock, horror and guilt was astounding.

What do you do? You're absolutely right, you do the decent thing and buy another one that looks the same. I slipped it in the cage. The 2 rodents squared up like they were in the thunderdome and fought to the death. My friend was now the proud owner of a mental death machine that could bite through leather gloves.
(Sat 7th Oct 2006, 14:03, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

Never come late
After a shift working in a pub i scooted over to my buddy's house where I found about 12 people all monged to Hades.

"What's going on?" I say.

"Eat the cake" comes the unanimous reply.

"Anything good?"

"EAT THE CAKE!"

Oh..kay. Having only had a stolen brandy I was fresh and willing to join the 'party'. I had some of the hash cake lovingly prepared by the magnificent baker but non-junky girlfriend of said buddy. Trying to impress, she'd thrown in a quarter of the squidgy black stuff we all love and killed everybody. But I didn't know. I had some cake. There was a third left. I thought I had some catching up to do so I had all the cake. Shitneedles. But before the effects..

"Who wants a spliff?" say I.

"Absolutely FUCKING NOT!" say all, obviously all tripping their tits off. "How much did you eat?"

"All of it"

"Shit. Bye bye, man. You'd better go throw it up"

"Nah, I'll be fine"

Nothing happening so i have a couple of biftas. An hour in, watching an Eddie Izzard video I start laughing (which is odd in itself) because I think i'm full of wriggling feathers. Then half way through a bag of crisps they change into lightbulbs and my mouths bleeding all over my hands and legs and I have a good ole scream and chunder like a bastard all over the place. Then a bit of healthy blackness, which i'm greatful for as I don't want to remember how i ended up naked wrapped in a transparent shower curtain unconscious on the bathroom floor being kicked by sober and distressed pretty women.

Never again. Unless you're paying.
(Mon 19th Dec 2005, 18:10, More)

» Housemates from hell

Cognitive Science
As I'd merrily gone to my Chemistry A level after a few bongs in the park I got into Sussex Uni through clearing. This meant that all the best on-site accomodation had gone and all that was left were rooms with 2 beds in. I'd be sharing...

Mercifully I can't remember my room-mates name, which is odd, as he's the kind of guy who sticks in the mind. With a head like a kiwi (no, the fruit), teeth like dinner plates, ears like the FA cup and boggle eyes like a Nissan Micra he was a cruel victim of a mighty thrashing with the ugly stick. Below the neck though he had the body of an Adonnis (and i'm a straight guy), an exercise nut and fit as a fiddle. He was studying cognitive science and was too deeply into psychology for an 18 year old. He had a metre and a half of Freud books on his mantlepiece and would poke me awake with his snooker cue (he loved this cue, he must have screwed it together each time), note book in hand, asking what i'd been dreaming about so he could log it for his degree, in a piece of coursework where he was "attempting to control the dreams of another". He was so strong and scary I had to tell him. This essay was admitted and got a 2-1.

He was also the campus dealer. The 9am bongs gave him great lucidity for exercise, mental activity and coursework. Me? Because he gave me all the weed I could smoke free of charge I got 18% in my exams and got chucked out at the end of the first year. He also had THE most hidious lardy ginger (no offence, boss) girlfriend from Essex I've ever met. She would come down and they'd hump like screaming anteaters with me lying 2 metres away. He'd have gashes down his back in the morning you could grow cress in. And I once heard the twangy sound of a condom get slipped on followed by the immortal words "...mmmm..., lemon flavour".

When I moved out to a smaller room with a single bed, no one moved into his room so he still paid £20 a week and had a double bed! Arsehole!

Still, he had an a-mazing stereo and a binbag full of dub. I am now a rather good sound technician, and it was a flash in the brain during (his) bifta listening to (his) Lee Perry that the worm turned from Biology to audio.

But the poking didn't half hurt.

I now live with my parents. My Dad eats all my food, my brother plays his music very loud and my mum shits in the kettle. Lovely people.
(Fri 6th Apr 2007, 10:20, More)