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» Apparently I'm a sex offender

Filthy, dirty bastard
About four years ago two friends and I were waiting in a New York subway station for a train after a night out. I was nervous enough(with all the things you hear about such places) when my anxiety levels rocketted through the roof as I clocked a very tall, mental and strong looking guy having a tug on the platform.

He was stood slightly back so that most people facing the tracks couldn't see him. Even so, plenty had noticed and were ignoring him. He was drooling with his pants around his arse and staring intently at a group of oblivious girls. When he noticed that I was looking (agog) at him he fixed his gaze on me and entered into a staring competition, still tugging merrily away (Obviously, he had no prefernce for gender). It seemed like he was scrutinising my very soul.

Looking him in the eye was a mistake. I was hypnotised. Frozen in the gaze of the Medusa. You've never known confusion until you've been eyeballed by a wanking mentalist.

The usual fight or flight reactions deserted me and I was under his spell, rooted to the spot, all the time thinking 'surely he's embarrassed and will stop.' Thank God the train came.

He's probably still there - looking intense and flogging his pud.

Okay, so it wasn't me who was the sex pest, but I still felt dirty afterwards.
(Fri 18th Aug 2006, 16:02, More)

» I hurt my rude bits

the skin, it be too long!
A friend of mine is an idle sod and many years ago spent a day or so, when he should have been revising for his GCSE exams, making up games around the house - throwing a ball at a wall, tossing pencils in the bin and so on.

Eventually he settled for a session of balancing on the two back legs of his chair, seeing if he can beat his own personal best. Now, he hears his parents pulling up in the drive and in a blur of panic rockets forward in his chair, only to somehow trap his foreskin in the underside of the desk drawer while simultaneously slamming the drawer shut with his stomach.

The same friend invented a game which he called Russian Ru-bell, in which he took a pellet-firing six-shooter toy pistol (with one chamber loaded) and would hand the gun around with friends, each taking turns to fire the gun point blank into the exposed helmet of the old chap. Relief or pure agony followed the discharge of said weapon into one's ... well, weapon.

The really hardcore version involved aiming the gun point blank down the jap's eye. As a 'live one' would almost certainly lead to a trip to the accident unit with a hard ornage plastic bullet lodged halfway down the wee chute, this game was only ever played once. We felt that we were living on borrowed time and luckily nobody fired a live one.

Other games included 'Ball Daniels', in which a power ball was pelted by one participant to the floor and into the open legs of the opponent. Trousers must be hoiked up and the 'target's' eyes must be shut.

I never took part. Honest.
(Tue 18th Jul 2006, 10:48, More)