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This is a question Vandalism

I got a load of chalk, felt-tip markers and paint from friends one Christmas in a thinly-veiled attempt to get me involved with their plan to vandalise the toilets at the local park. My downfall: Signing my name. Tell us your stories of anti-social behaviour.

Thanks to Bamboo Steamer for the suggestion

(, Thu 7 Oct 2010, 12:10)
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This sort of counts, and it's too entertaining a story not to tell it
First of all, this did not happen to me. I was told the story by a mate, and frankly I have no reason or inclination not to believe him (it's funnier if it's true). Sit as comfortably as you can and allow me to entertain you with the parable of... the ULTIMATE DANGERWANK.

I'd like to assume that you all know what a DangerWank is (I think the capitalisation gives it a certain quality, like it should come with a sidekick called Penfold... I'm sure Richard Gere would appreciate that), but for those who don't, it's when you nip off to the communal toilets at work and have a crafty one off the wrist. Brightens the day, apparently. Gives one something to look forward to. And it gets you off the phone for five minutes. This is a guideline rather than a rule; it's really up to the individual how long they masturbate for. Might be significantly less than five minutes. I won't be stood outside the cubicle with a stopwatch or anything. Don't know where you got that idea.

Anyway, my mate, who we shall dub "Dean" (for twas his name) decides that this isn't particularly dangerous, and one day whilst bored elects to develop the idea to a level of risk appropriate to the name. Don't want Trades Descriptions getting involved, do we. To elaborate, Dean worked for a relatively small company, in the contact centre for a website that sold photography gear an' stuff, and with only 20-odd people in the building the toilets were a one-room affair rather than a succession of cubicles. As such, there was no way that a DangerWank involved running the risk of someone in the next cubicle hearing you. Unless your cum noise was so gratuitous that it could be heard through the wall in the girls' toilet. Now there's a thought.

How to make the DangerWank truly dangerous, pondered Dean. What he came up with makes me truly envious, I wish I could lay claim to having devised this myself, although I'm bloody glad someone else road-tested it, for reasons that will become horribly, horribly clear.

One afternoon, Dean went to the toilet

Locked the door

Whipped out his John Thomas and gave it a few preparatory strokes...

and called the office hunt number from his mobile. Seriously. Oh, it gets better.

He explained that he'd locked the door, and was now unable to unlock it. He needed someone to come and break it down (this is the vandalism part, don't expect the story to get back on-topic after this, it doesn't). He even sped up the dolphin-flogging as he talked to one of his colleagues to ensure the appropriate level of sweaty panic entered his voice. After hanging up, he continued his disgusting act of self-pollution, the concept of the Ultimate DangerWank having been established - he had to finish before they broke the door down.

He did. In fact, he finished about 30 seconds thereafter. Too much groundwork done.

But now he faces a predicament. Does he unlock the door, wander back to his desk and explain that he'd failed in the relatively simple task of undoing a bolt? Or wait for the cavalry, which would at least keep him off the phone for a few minutes? No contest. But what to do to alleviate the boredom?

He had another wank.

I know what you're thinking, but he was only 18 at the time, plenty of get-up-and-go, these young'uns. A minute or so in, he hears voices outside the door. This spurs him on, unsurprisingly. What follows was more worrying.

The frame of the door shakes as a shoulder is thrown against the other side. And again. The bolt holds firm. A third and fourth attempt are heard. The bolt shifts. It's on its way out. He's got to finish. Not so easy the second time around, is it? He's in trouble here. He needs inspiration. He needs to conjure the memory of the first time he saw Salma Hayek in From Dusk Til Dawn. He needs to think about the arse on Rachel from Marketing. It's not working! That door could go at any minute, bursting open to reveal the burly form of Steve from Accounts! He needs a miracle...

In fact, what helped Dean across the finish line in time was the thought of big, sweaty men throwing themselves bodily against a locked door in order to get at him. He's gay. Did I mention that? Apparently this was something of a "turning point" for him. Prior to this he was (mostly) all about the poontang. Not any more. I am prepared to accept that the chronology of Dean's sexuality may have been adjusted slightly to fit the story, but you have to admit it makes for a hell of a yarn to spin the grandkids he's ruled himself out of having.

So, in conclusion, the Ultimate DangerWank; it's risky as hell, results in damage to company property and may inadvertantly drive you to deviant lifestyles.

Length? I'm not asking him, he might try to tickle my insides with it
(, Fri 8 Oct 2010, 12:58, closed)
Ha ha! Fuck!
Superb effort!
(, Fri 8 Oct 2010, 13:10, closed)
Here I thought
it was all going to end with an accidental facial. Very amusing story anyway :)
(, Fri 8 Oct 2010, 13:10, closed)
Bravo sir!
Excellent story-word arrangement.
(, Fri 8 Oct 2010, 16:21, closed)

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