You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » My sex misconceptions » Page 15 | Search
This is a question My sex misconceptions

Freddy Woo writes, "aged eight, a boy from my class told me everything these was to know about sex: male prostitutes are called destitutes and women use tampons to stop men sticking their willies up them. Also, women pee out their bums, something I didn't realise was wrong until I was about 18 and my first girlfriend looked at me aghast."

Share everything - Uncle B3ta wants to know.

zero points for conception/misconception jokes

(, Thu 25 Sep 2008, 15:54)
Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I thought any person on the internet could actually act like a reasonably sane person and get laid.
/talk is proving me wrong.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 21:11, Reply)
quite a lof of the men here
don't seem to like women very much.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 20:24, 16 replies)
"Blah blah blah blah blah I know nothing about sex and I'm never going to get it blah blah blah blah blah for 10,000 more words".
That's you lot, that is.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 20:23, 14 replies)
As a child (and despite having a mother who was a trained nurse)
I was told that children come out of your belly button.

As a reasonably sane but naive (sp) child, this made sense. That's where Mummy gets fat and it's the obvious place. My early days were OK.
Until I had to ring 999 when my mum's waters burst and she screamed for assistance. I was 5 years old.

I rang 999 (good Scouts training) and asked for an ambulance and the police, because there was blood and stuff. Bear in mind that this was a usual birth in the 60s, i.e. at home, supposedly with a midwife, or a relative if the midwife couldn't get there in time,

I stood there, 5 yrs old, watching my baby brother appear from somwhere that I PREVIOUSLY NEVER KNEW EXISTED.

Kinda puts you off intercourse for a bit when you see a live birth as your first introduction to the female genitalia. Yes, Freud would have a field day.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 20:09, Reply)
Babysitting lady seduction shenanigans
Teenage-PJM was a scant seventeen years old, over laden with hormones, hair gel, bell-endedness and concern as to the effect of excessive Onanism on the hirsuteness of his palms whilst being chronically under-endowed with brains, confidence and precious little lady related experience. I'd probably spent more time having injections than having sexual intercourse at this point.

I was at the time good friends with two sisters of my own age - Anna and Clara, the daughters of a local plod, who lived nearby in a street of houses reserved for serving police officers. Being the polite and clean cut teenager as I was, their parents welcomed me escorting their daughters out for age disqualified beery nights out in the local pub. These two girls were very close friends, so trusted in fact that I treated them with an almost sibling-like regard (stopping short of giving them Chinese burns and dead arms).

Sure enough, Anna - the elder of the pair confided one evening "I know someone who fancies you. But I can't tell you who they are. I promised them on my life that I wouldn’t" which was followed by some knowing winks and a hint of innuendo, followed by the vague suggestion that she’d “set us up” one evening without any warning. A fruitless round of guessing ensued, having gotten nowhere finding out the identity of the mystery woman, teenage-PJM fucks off home cross-eyed with stupidity and lust.

Next evening the phone rings. It's Anna. Her and Clara are babysitting for their next door neighbour this Friday, would I like to come round and help out with them again? They have MTV… Sure, why not.

Anna and Clara's next door neighbour; Lyndsey, was going through the throes of a messy divorce and not content with keeping the house, was off out that Friday night to get utterly shitfaced and humiliate her soon to be ex-husband by bringing home a random fella right under the noses of his colleagues who staffed the small Police Station, just yards away at the end of the street.

Sure enough, teenage-PJM finds himself sat on the sofa in between Anna and Clara, watching MTV as the kids stubbornly refused to make any sort of a nuisance of themselves, no doubt having seen teenage-PJM coming down the street.

"God" belmed teenage-PJM, "I wonder what sex is like when you're really old? Like thirty or something?”.

“That’s Lyndsey’s age!” blurted Clara.

Indeed. The awfulness of it. Imagine being say… Thirty-four years of age and still having sex? Oh the thought of it.

As the evening went on, we sat lower and lower in the sofa reaching for the glasses of wine and beer thoughtfully provided by Lyndsey.

In my alcohol fuddled state, I looked to my left and to my right. Anna was tall, slim and coolly attractive. Indeed, we'd drunkenly kissed one evening at a party a few months before, although it was mutually agreed afterward that "it had never happend". Her sister Clara was equally pretty, but possessed of a mischievous sense of humour. I must confessed that Clara once kissed me whilst under the influence. But again, we didn't speak a word of it. We talked, laughed and fooled around like the carefree teenagers we were. Clara’s eyes sparkled as we exchanged yet another filthy joke as Anna looked on with feigned indignation and sighed “God, you two are so disgusting”. Anna was looking admittedly quite radiant in the glow of the television, transfixed with Michael Jackson’s latest video featuring morphing faces and Macaulay Caulkin.

“Go on then Anna, who is this mystery woman you told me about?” I asked.

“I really can’t tell you! I promised” she replied, winking. Clara nudged me in the ribs and poked her tongue out at me, playfully.

It got later and I got drunker. The identity of my mystery admirer vexed me, as I explored the modest extent of my wits to figure out who she might be.

Who could she be… Who could she be…

With that, the front door opened and in walked an inebriated Lyndsey in the process of noisily bidding her female drinking partner goodnight as she tottered through the doorway in heels not designed to support a woman of thirty years vintage and under the influence.

“Hallo!” she breathed, swaying slightly as she stood in the lounge. “Don’t go home yet, we must have a drink and a chat first!”

I sat there in between the two girls, innocently.

“Oh, PJM I’ve got something for you!” said Lyndsey.

“Stay right there”. With that she ran up the stairs, risking life and ankles in those heels.

*clomp*clomp*clomp*clomp*clomp*clomp*

“Hold out your hand then!” she said as she reappeared in the lounge.

With that, I felt something small, flat and square, with sharp edges being placed in my palm. I couldn’t see because my view was blocked by Lyndsey’s face as she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek as she whispered "I'm glad Anna and Clara organised this one, fancy coming upstairs when they go home?".

I looked down and saw that she’d placed a condom wrapper in my hand. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to do…

So I did the only thing that hormone laden, bell-ended teenage-PJM could do. I gathered up my wits, seized the moment…

And…

…fucked off out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 19:55, 25 replies)
"You can't have sex in the back of a mini"
my then g/f declared one evening. As we were driving along in her mini in the gathering dusk in the middle of nowhere (between Inverness and Ullapool).

"I'm pretty sure you can," I replied.

She turned off into a layby and said "come on then, let's try!"

"Ooh, you've done this before," she giggled as I got us into position.

Well, I had, but with a smaller lady and when I was a lot fitter.

The right sort of contact was made but it was a disappointing endeavour, leaving me with a bad back for weeks and her with a gear-knob shaped bruise on her thigh.

These days I have a fuck-off big Mercedes for 'special occasions'. Much more roomy, easy to manoeuvre in, and the seats are wipe-clean leather.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 19:24, 2 replies)
common misconception
As with a lot of posters, my "friend" had the old romantic misconception that you fall in love with the first girl you date (and he did and lived with for 3 years!) . Also had the view that she would never cheat as she had sworn not to do so and to always share problems if times got tough.

At one point, he worked away for three nights a week for a couple of months and imagine his surprise when he had her in tears on the phone one night about her newly acquired STD.

"Oh her doctor told her she had it for years and it only just surfaced" he told the STI clinic with a smile as he was getting checked with the same. Oh how they laughed in his face :-( then gave him the good advice to dump the bitch as she was blatantly doing the dirty and she'd lied to him about the doctor bit.

Gotta love the NHS but it did give him the wake up to dump the dirty skanky infected slore which he did :-)

*He's happier now - just :-p
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 18:44, 4 replies)
Her execution was great, but assumption of the results was misconceived.
After four years with my ex, things had got a bit flat in all aspects of our relationship.

I was fed up with her being there all the time, our sex life had gone down hill, frankly we were on the road to nowhere.

But, in one desperate final attempt to give us a kick start, she put on an extra special effort in the bedroom.

I came home to find her sprawled on the bed, in stockings, suspenders, long boots, the full works.

She had silk scarves draped over her body.

I stood, I stared, my heart was thumping, my dreams were about to come true.

'Tie me up' she breathed huskily.

So I took a scarf, and gently tied it round her right wrist and looped it round the bed post. My breathing getting heavier and my nerves tingling as I knew my moment was coming.

Then I tied her left wrist to the other bed post. She was moaning and writing.

I tied her right ankle to the foot of the bed, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. I had dreamt of this for years.

I finally tied her left ankle, she was there, spread out, tied and helpless

'Do what ever you want' she said...

...and I fucked off to the pub for a quiet beer without her nagging.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 18:09, 6 replies)
I cant recall when I first heard of the facts of life
but i was very young, and I'd heard about the way that a man has to put his willy into a ladies fanny when they love each other very much and want a baby.
I was also convinced that each family could only have a maximum of two children, because a man only had two balls in that bag beneath his willy, and the requirement was one per baby.
I was so afraid of when the time was to come for that big ball to come out of the end of the tiny hole in the end of my willy.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 17:37, 2 replies)
Having been an avid fan of...
... 'Thinky Wanks' as a child, I very much enjoyed 'The Naked Ape' by Desmond Morris (particularly Chapter 6: 'sex').

My textual persuasion, as well as poor phonetic skill were revealed upon my 14th birthday when I asked Kerry-Ann Moss if I could see her 'slitoris'.

The shame still haunts me.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 17:20, 3 replies)
Me and my now famous...
Me and my now famous missus were enjoying the wonder of outdoor sex - in this instance, if I remember rightly, under the influence of some rather groovy narcotics.

She, possibly as she had her hands on some moss at the same time as being quite spacktarded, along with me rutting violently at her behind like a tupping canine asked if she had weeds for hands. I advised her she did indeed.

I still rib her mercilessly nowadays. And bring up this comment.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 17:17, Reply)
"Oh, that's so in-tents!"
Ten years or so ago I was involved with a young lady with a somewhat voracious appetite for the horizontal lambada. This might be a desirable attribute in any partner, provided of course that she is blessed with a reasonable amount of decorum and judgement. Unfortunately, she possessed of neither. She also possessed the devil's own temper when she didn't get what she wanted. While sex on tap is a plus point, it's a bastard when you inevitably don't feel like it and the lady in question is throwing the mother of hissy fits in your hungover earlobe because you'd rather roll over and die than engage in athletic and gymnastic monkeysex. Bit of a double edged sword that one, really.

One lazy early September afternoon we were chilling out at a beer festival with a few friends. The weather was warm, the conversation was flowing and we were sitting in the sunshine having a thoroughly excellent time. Without any prior warning, she leaned over to me and whispered "I'm going to the tent to get changed, see you there in thirty seconds time".

A little voice in the back of my brain went "Hmmmmm...." and I dutifully followed her back to the tent, feeling rather smug at the thought of the one thing guaranteed to entice me into taking time out from all day drinking.

Sure enough, as I stuck my head into the tent I was rewarded with a very passionate kiss on the lips as a statement of intent. I rolled forward, flung my arm round her waist and pulled her closer to me as I returned her kiss and basically let nature take it's sweaty and vigourous course. Remembering her antipathy towards any kind of subtlety, I made sure I whispered a warning in her ear at the earliest opportunity.

"Sssshhhhh! We have to be quiet hun, there are other people all around us!"

Several seconds minutes of careful and considerate foreplay later (ahem), I began to get the telltale signs that she was enjoying herself very much indeed and that stopping for any reason whatsoever would be a very bad thing.

No matter, she was making sure that her normally rather vocal opinions on religion, bad language and swift arrival were stifled as she bit down on her own knuckles when she only went and did something stupid.

She took her hand out of her mouth.

She pressed her hand against the inside of the tent for support...

I still have issues with what happened next.

A friend of ours with a rather sick sense of humour who was walking past outside was alerted to what was going on and immediately grabbed hold of her hand.

Bastard.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 16:25, 8 replies)
Kiss Me Where I poo, one for you!


Thanks to elloworld for helping out a moron!
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 15:57, 4 replies)
I still don’t know the answer to this one....
When people get old, what happens to their pubes?

Someone once told me that they all fall off (over time I imagine) and somebody told me they go grey.

Can anyone enlighten me?

Thanks
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 15:49, 23 replies)
There's naivety and there's naivety
I still don't know what was worse.

Thinking that I could get a girl pregnant by rubbing belly buttons with her when I was 13 or believing, at 23, that by declaring my undying love to my then partner, she wouldn't sleep with other blokes behind my back.

And then making the same mistake when I was 32.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 14:49, 2 replies)
i always thought
when i was younger and erm, you know, making some knuckle fury muck - that my Mum and Dad or infact any family or friend member would try and catch me at it. Even to the extent of installing secret pinhole cameras, or 2 way mirrors.

also, to disguise the noise i would run the tap in the bathroom. Now, looking back it would seem obvious what i was up to. I mean my mum and dad would think i had bad bowels, as i would sit on the loo for about 6 hrs with the tap constantly running.

the same goes for dead family relatives perving from the heavens.

Fortunatley, I now doubt anyone is trying to catch me in the act, nor are dead relatives trying to watch.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 14:11, 12 replies)
Indian Midwife Story
When my sister gave birth she had a very nice Indian midwife.

As she was preparing to give birth the midwife said. "You have nothing to worry about, madam. You have a BIIIIIG Butner".

"Sorry?"

"A BIIIG BUTNER! YOu have a nice big butner".

My sister was mortified but it wasn't a big arse she had - it was a "big partner".
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 14:07, 8 replies)
I always thought.
I always thought as a kid that when you got "all hard" that just meant you needed to go to the loo, and it was natures way of saying "Look, you're really desperate. Just let it out".

I was half way there, I guess. I was about 12 when I found out what it really happened for. In the bath. Accidentally. Hey, I couldn't afford a rubber duck, I played with what I could find.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 13:43, 1 reply)
Cars = Sexy?
I think my biggest, and one of my earliest, misconceptions was that having a car would help me get laid.

My dad didn't help. He told me about how he and his mate used to drive for hours along dark B-roads in his Triumph Stag, wind in the hair and scarves trailing a few meters behind, to some obscure country pub full of gagging-for-it farm girls.


Unfortunately going to Liverpool of a Saturday night in a clapped-out Cavalier with no radio, and getting stopped by the police because we 'looked dodgy' does not, it seems, hold quite the same appeal to the local girls.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 13:19, 3 replies)
I lost my virginity at the ripe old age of 7
Or so I thought. Back in the days of the playground I'd continually be harassed by a group of kids asking me if I was a virgin. Being aware of what such a status was, I obliged, which resulted in fits of giggles.

Turns out their definition of a virgin was someone who drinks the now-abolished Virgin Cola. In their logic, you weren't a virgin if you had sex. You also weren't a virgin if you didn't drink Virgin Cola. Therefore, the fastest way to pop your cherry was to drink something else.

I feel sorry for the poor asian corner shop owner who had 60 primary school kids ranshack his store that lunchtime of all non-Virgin Cola drinks. Still, who else here can recall their first time involving so many small children without being put on a register?
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 12:57, Reply)
there's a moral in here somewhere.
i had no sex misconceptions when i was a child.my parents were there during the sixties and seventies,and my father went on a world tour in which he (supposedly) learned enough to throw off the presbytarian oppressions he wwas prey to.my mother was an artist.
this of course set them up to be frank and open about sexuality and all its little foibles.i can remember asking what all the...uh..physical apparatus was for,at the age of four,and being given a complete tutorial.
such was my knowledge at sixteen that the whole 'sex' thing had lost its mystery and held no fascination whatsoever.at nineteen,in second year at university,i find myself completely asexual,and as frigid as a cold day on Hoth.
parents,for fuck's sakes tell your kids extravagant lies,do whatever it takes to preserve the mystery,or you'll never see your grandchildren.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 12:25, Reply)
On a similar theme to buggeritkev...
Why is it that, courtesy of the girl next door, it was much easier for me to get a girl's knickers off when I was 8 than it is now?
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 12:23, 1 reply)
I feel sick
I'll keep this short because its not the most uplifting story, but it does warrant telling as it is quite possibly the most serious misconception I have ever had. I thought that the first time I saw a vagina I would like it. I didn't. I vomited. My brother vomited. Our friend Darren vomited. That'll teach us to play doctor doctor again and convince our friend to not only open her legs, but to spread her lips as well. I was 8 yrs old.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 12:10, Reply)
I was 7
My big Sis was 10 and therefore a little more worldly wise than myself. The two of us were playing in the back garden on the swings with one of her friends. It started with friendly dares to see who could swing higher, who could jump off and clear the most ground. Big sis upped the anti slightly by daring me to shout to the OAPs enjoying a nice game of Crown Green Bowling. Our garden overlooked the bowling green and not knowing any better I took up the challenge and climbed the wall after my sister had whispered the words she wished me to shout, assuring me that the words meant "I am cool".
They did not. A little 7 year old boy yelling "I AM A LESBIAN!" nearly gave the OAPs a heart attack.
moments later, a very red faced sixty-something came knocking at my door to speak to Mother.
I cried, my sister laughed then got sent to bed.
I'm definitely not a lesbian although there are many pensioners who would think otherwise. mind you we did have a very harsh winter last year so they're probably all dead.
x
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 11:47, 1 reply)
My Dearest Mum...
Asked me one day if I knew what tiger balm was. As she was the owner of a beauty salon at the time I was expecting an answer along the lines of 'it's great for massages' or something to that effect. Alas mum went on to explain that I should rub it onto my girlfriends clit. I still have nightmares about that moment.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 11:28, 3 replies)
Three's a crowd
My sex misconception was that having my first threesome would be a good idea.

It didn’t happen by accident. One of my best mates, let’s call him Darren, had a girlfriend who was liberal to the point of having no inhibitions whatsoever. This suited Darren perfectly and he used to boast to me regularly about the latest perversion they’d tested in the bedroom (or the kitchen, or the park… you get the idea).

I was midway through Uni at the time but Darren and I had been friends all the way through school, been in sports teams together and it’s fair to say we knew each other about as well as two guys can, or so I thought. His girlfriend Jenny was a couple of years older than us but we’d both known her at school too. She was a stunning girl and great fun but unashamedly also a sexual deviant.

The night of Darren’s birthday was when it happened. We were all a bit drunk and in no mood to stop when the music at the nightclub finished, so it was decided to go back to their house to continue the party. In the back of the cab, Jenny in the middle and Darren and me on either side, it became clear I was in for more than I’d bargained when she started groping me. A quick glance to the left revealed that Darren was already getting a hand job. He turned to me and said “Jenny’s always fancied a threes-up with you and me, how about it?”.

Well, what could I say? Nothing, as it happened. She winked at me, I smiled nervously in reply and she unbuttoned my flies with her free hand …

After an awkward payment to the blushing cabbie, we piled into their house and into the living room. I had no idea what to expect, it felt like losing my virginity again. She dabbled with the idea of just getting down to it right there, but Darren pointed out that the bedroom would be more comfortable. Our trio of bodies gradually made its way through the hallway and up the stairs, Jenny occasionally stopping to lick or fondle our various body parts. By the time we arrived at the bedroom, our clothes were all over the house.

I let Jenny dictate the pace when she wasn’t using her skills on Darren as I really didn’t know what I was doing; I’d had plenty of solo partners myself but this was my first ménage-a-trois so I didn’t want to overstep whatever boundaries remained. Nevertheless, trying to be passive and gentlemanly in such rare circumstances just doesn’t work.

Growing bored of switching attention back and forth between our respective cocks, Jenny commanded Darren to fuck her hard, and he happily obliged. While he was busily shagging her from behind, I decided to engage in a bit of ‘spit roasting’, then she insisted that we swap ends. It was certainly a weird feeling to be fucking my best mate’s girl while he was being fellated by her a couple of feet away, watching my every thrust intently. It was all a bit surreal and I didn’t think it would go any further, but Jenny wanted to try every conceivable position available to the three of us. She laid me on the bed, straddled me and invited Darren to fill her vacant rear entrance. It turns out that double penetration is much more difficult than porn movies would have you believe.

After an unenjoyable sojourn into shitty city, Darren decided it was time to watch me and Jenny for a bit while he “cleaned himself off”… yuck. I was still lying on the bed so Jenny assumed the classic ‘69’ position and began giving me a very fine blowjob while I got to work on her. Darren couldn’t stand just watching so after a few cursory wipes he decided to resume his previous position in Jenny’s wrong ‘un, which was fine for him. However, it placed me in the unenviable position of having to look directly up at his sweaty ballsack and arse. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on Jenny’s excellent technique rather than my best friend’s pendulous undercarriage slamming into her chocolate exit strategy.

With my eyes closed, I was finally starting to enjoy the experience myself. I could feel the pressure building as Jenny demonstrated her lack of a meaningful gag reflex and could tell she was enjoying my oral generosity too. She was really wet to the point of dripping into my mouth, so I lapped it up like a dog eating a melted ice cream. I’d never experienced anything like it before, but it was a real turn on to know she was getting so much pleasure, even if she did taste a bit different to most of the girls I’d been with before. After another minute or two she finished me off in her mouth. Feeling rather exhausted and self conscious again, I opened my eyes again only to find that Darren was already lying next to us. Confused, I looked up and noticed a trickle of light brown fluid running from Jenny’s fudge box, all the way down her lady-garden and stretching onto my own lips.

Unfortunately for me, while I had been lost in mutual oral pleasure with my eyes closed, Darren had quietly emptied a remarkable load of hot monkey custard into Jenny’s backside, and then he’d pulled out with predictable results. It wasn’t my tongue that had made her beef pocket so impressively moist after all. The worst part was that I’d swallowed most of the devil’s own cocktail in the mistaken belief that it was my prize for being so good at cunnilingus. I ended up blaming the ensuing bout of puking on the evening’s drinks.

So kids, my advice to you is: if you ever end up being asked to a threesome, for goodness’ sake, either get the boy/girl ratio right or ensure that gravity is on your side.

Apologies if the ending to this tale has left a nasty taste in your mouth too.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 11:28, 73 replies)
A girl at work
wrote 'congratulations on your big day and go forth and multiply' on her friends wedding guest comments book cos she thought it meant go onward and have babies, oh dear....

(Go forth and multiply means go fuck yourself in laymans terms)
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 10:50, 9 replies)
my mum was the religious type
and so for years i was told that

"when a mummy and daddy love each other very much, they pray very hard for a baby"

I would wonder why the hell God would stick the baby inside my mums guts? instead of just handing them the baby instead... which is far easyier compared to the whole messy birthing procedure.
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 9:56, Reply)
My Dad...
My dad was always pretty honest about life, sometimes too much so.

I remember once when I was about 11, he turned to me and said "Agnostic, if you wank too much, you'll go blind."

I just sadly turned to him, and said "Dad, I'm over here"
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 9:30, 5 replies)
Somewhat tenous, but on topic all the same.
I thought grandparents never EVER had sex.

Until I went with gran to book a weekend bus trip one day.
The nice lady asked if they wanted seperate beds, and gran proudly proclaimed:

"Oh no dear, my Albert loves getting it on, especially on a bus trip".

Fuck knows who was more speechless, me or the poor lass on the counter.

I'm ashamed to say I was 20 when that happened. And we told that story at Gran's funeral!
(, Wed 1 Oct 2008, 7:09, 1 reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, ... 1