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This is a question Unexpected Nudity

There you are minding your own business, looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when suddenly... SURPRISE TODGER!

Tell us just how un-erotic unexpected encounters with nudey people can be.

(suggested by wanderingjoe)

(, Thu 28 May 2009, 13:32)
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Am Dram, Thank you Mam
Ah, amateur dramatics. Truly a delight, no?

Anyway, my Amdram group were doing a production of one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, A Midsummer Night's Dream. The director was fond of the local church (don't ask, he's quite pretentious and didn't understand the concept of acoustics) and we were billed for two nights and a matinee.

I was recovering from Mystery Illness #1 so I had requested a smaller part, and had managed to land myself the part of Francis Flute. Now, I had the interesting task of being a woman who was playing a man who in turn was playing a woman. I also had to, as my charming fellow actors put it, "do something about those massive tits of yours". So I bought a men's white shirt in size XL. It did the trick nicely; although it was obvious I did have breasts, it didn't look too silly.

Until the last night. My scene was to play Thisbe in the play-within-a-play, and find my beloved Pyramus, played by my dear friend Andy, lying dead. In rehearsal, we'd devised that I would sit astride Andy in a comical 'in-flagrante-delicto' pose and move up and down with my sobbing, thus giving the crowd a bit of a laugh. I was then supposed to rip open my WAISTCOAT and stab myself with a rubber sword.

Yep, you guessed it. Right in front of my Mum and Dad, my little brother, my grandparents, several old friends from school who brought their friends, the church warden, the staff, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's parents and (allegedly) a talent scout from another group, I snuck my fingers into the gap between the cloth and ripped not only the waistcoat and the shirt, but my (stupid cheap) bra. Clean in half.

Not realising what I'd done, and just taking the crowd's reaction as vague humour at the sight of a woman with drawn-on stubble sitting astride a 'dead' man, I continued my little speech, wondering why Andy was whispering: "Nectar....Nectar...Nectar!"

The piece de resistance of the act was for me to 'die' and deposit myself breast-first into Andy's face. And it was at that moment that I realised I was a bit colder than usual. Poor Andy - he might have had a fun night if it had been just him and me, but now the whole of Branksome was involved. Thank God someone had the sense to drop the lights so I could scramble off and re-assemble myself with a safety pin.

Believe it or not, I have outdone myself since, but I may save that story.

Apologies for length - it's about 38 round the ribcage.
(, Tue 2 Jun 2009, 10:35, 4 replies)
What better way to start the day
than with a story about liberated boobs?

Marvellous work. Now I'm intrigued to hear about how you've "outdone yourself since"...

*Clicks*
(, Tue 2 Jun 2009, 10:53, closed)
Nork City!
*Clickety-click*
(, Tue 2 Jun 2009, 11:25, closed)
Have a sniggeringly good
click.
(, Tue 2 Jun 2009, 13:12, closed)
Globes Theatre
I bet that never came up in the Bard's time.
(, Tue 2 Jun 2009, 15:25, closed)

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