» Accidentally Erotic

not really an exhibitionist, but . . .
I used to do life-study modelling for local artists: I'd been on the other side of the easel too, knew the whys and what-fors, so it seemed like a nice idea to give something back. 2hrs a week sat in the buff in front of strangers also nearly doubled my dole money, so it was too good a job to refuse.

There's nothing at all erotic about it - imagine being naked and trying to hold very still while under close scrutiny by a dozen strangers: if anything it has quite the reverse effect, and my usually respectable looking flaccidity would do it's best impersonation of Michelangelo's 'David'. The bastard. I wasn't even too phased when a pretty young goth girl I knew socially joined the class.

Well, that was the case until the last class of an 8 week block. A few less artists than usual, a relaxed atmosphere, and a more relaxed pose - me languorously draped across a couch amongst flags. Near the end of the session, I'm in pose, idly musing how accustomed and unconcerned I'd become to doing the job, and out of some self destructive spite, my mind starts throwing up outrageously erotic images . . .

Heart starts pounding, blood flowed south, and my fruits tightened in their bag: thinking hard about skeletal famine children and concentration camp victims stopped me from properly saluting the flag, but it couldn't prevent some obviously visible growth and stirrings. Having trouble contolling my breathing, on the verge of panic but still trying to hold the pose, a couple of huge beads of sweat rolled from my forehead, right down my nose and splashed onto my stomach.
Managed - just - to keep it from reaching 'semi' level, but couldn't stop it from squirming around a bit.

Longest five minutes of my life.
Never did another life class.
Couldn't look the pretty goth girl in the eye again. (Hi Rachel!)

Finally though: a genuinely appropriate reason for having to apologise for teh length?
(Sun 5th Feb 2006, 16:10, More)

» I just don't get it

washing my hands after peeing
My dick was very clean, safely wrapped in sweet smelling fresh cotton.

My hands however have touched filthy crap like money and a thousand communal surfaces like door handles etc since they last saw soap.

As I very seldom pee on my fingers, surely it would make more sense to wash my hands BFORE I pee?

As for taps - turn 'em on with dirty hands, wash hands clean: then soil your hands switching the bloody thing back off.
(Tue 5th Apr 2005, 18:18, More)

» Heckles

Not exactly a heckle, but . . .
A mate of mine went to see blues legend BB King.
As the old bluesman man walked onto stage, my boy pipes up loud and clear:
"I didnae know he was black!"

General audience hilarity - hummus!
(Wed 12th Apr 2006, 12:48, More)

» Accidentally Erotic

On some common themes in this thread
I'm starting to feel a little cheated.
20/20+ vision means no sexy optician experiences (the only person in my family who doesn't wear glasses)
I've trimmered or shaved my own head for about 15 years now, so no hair salon semis.
Living in a small city and riding my bike almost everywhere means there's few opportunities for any of those public transport moments.
(sigh)
Haven't seen this Harry Potter bath scene yet, but can safely state in advance that it definitely ISN'T going to work for me either.
But on the other hand, the idea of getting to see Hermione's 'golden snitch' . . . would that be inappropriate enough? I'm quite prepared to wait till it's legal . . .
(Sun 5th Feb 2006, 16:32, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

The king's diet
Underneath "ELVIS LIVES" some wit had added "on dried cowpats and liquid manure"

worked for me . . .
(Fri 4th May 2007, 6:07, More)