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This is a question Wanking Disasters Part II

Despite the warnings contained in our previous question on The Act of Onan, you all still appear to be masturbating like monkeys in a zoo. Tell us your stories of jerking the gherkin and double-clicking the mouse.

Suggested by Mrs Entity and DaveExclamationMark, voted for by YOU

(, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 12:22)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Does 3rd hand count?
Back at university, we were all sat around watching a film one night, when a rather shakey, ashen face appeared at the door, asking for Jason (housemate and co watchee).

They disappear upstairs for a good hour, deep in bloke chat.

Ashen-face leaves and Jason comes downstairs and pours a meditative cuppa.

Just like the blond guy in trainspotting, you always got the truth from Jason; it was one of his major weaknesses.

It seems his mate had had a rather unpleasant experience and needed solace. Company. The counsel of a discreet and trusted confidante, if you will. Someone to whom a secret could be entrusted of such enormity, such gravity, it would unburden the teller.

So, Jason told us not half way through his meditative cuppa. His mate and his girlfriend had been enjoying a leisurely all day shaggathon when he took a break to sit down in an armchair to enjoy a good shoulder massage. Shoulder massage turns into tickling, turns into touching, turns into a fairly gymnastic seated 69 (herein the wanking part)...

...so there he is, sat back, relaxed, getting a good noshing and returning the favour happily when a fart slips out of ladybox2, followed moments later by a pebbledashing of such terrifying ferocity he instantly threw up right into... well, shall we euphemistically say his lunch.

suffice to say that, in spite of Jason's earnest and well meant reassurance that it was 'just one of those things', their relationship was never the same...
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 20:33, 2 replies)
A totally fictional tale about wanking disasters. Famously told on promotional tours by author Chuck Palahnuik and known for making people vomit and pass out.

(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 19:35, 6 replies)
back in the days of long commutes
the only time in the day I could meditate ( not a euphamism btw, I really am one of those tree hugging hippy types) was during my lunch hour. At work. In the toilets. I'd sit cross legged with the seat down with tissue in my ears and some days with a sleeping mask on. Statistically it had to happen that when I'd done about 20 minutes and took the tissue out of my ears I was greeted by the sound of a furious wank a few cubicles down.

the guy had obviously stooped down to check there was no one else in the other cubicles and gone for it. Obviously as I was cross legged perched on the seat he never assumed he'd have an audience.

He heard me unlatch the door and I left in a hurry to the deafening silence of two men in the depths of embarassment, desperate to keep each others identity unknown to the other.

luckily it was a big office building with shared toilets so I never worked out who it was. thank christ.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 18:57, 1 reply)
Pneumatic Cuff
Sometimes it's only through 'self-discovery' that you find the hidden damage; the hidden toll on your manhood. Apparently the penis contains a sort of pneumatic cuff, and it's susceptible to damage. Several times, I've pinched on it too hard, seizing and yanking it out through the zipper for a pee. The cuff develops a huge, painful bubble on one side, and the penis bends over like a ridiculous-looking German-type sausage. Days of pampering and re-self-discovery are required to recover.

Do not be rough with your penis. Treat your penis gingerly, for it is your friend. Better yet, encourage your friends to treat your penis gingerly; good for the motor skills, you know.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 17:48, 2 replies)
I'm a woman and I just love it....
Wanking. Even the word is deliciously satisying, the long drawn-out 'wan' to the heartstopping finale 'k'.

I started early, at about 12 or 13, and have spent a LOT of time since experimenting to see how fast, hard or judderingly I can cum. Of course, just using fingers was fine for the early years, but after a while the same techniques and mental images just don't do it the same for me (I assume this is true of men also?). I've had all sorts of toys over the years, from the quick and reliable and hand-bag friendly 'lady-finger' to the slightly scary 10-inch dong. To be fair, many of my favourite days have been 'dong-days' because of the sheer amount of time and porn-watching it takes for me to be 'ready' for that one. Nothing like a couple of hours watching the pro's (or am's) and NOT allowing me to touch myself before using the dong to put a spring (if slightly crab-walky spring) into my step. My main aim in life is to save up enough to buy a sybian, and then I'll probably never be seen outside ever again.

The disaster bit? The surety that I can make myself cum better than any guy ever will. And the day my silver lady-finger gave its last buzz. No replacement has ever been quite the same, it was with me for 7 years (longer than any of my relationships have lasted).

Length? As long as it buzzes honey, I couldn't care less ;)
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 17:17, 35 replies)
It would have been a disaster...
A while back I noticed, from the office window, a guy in the house opposite watching pr0n, and (presumably) having a wank.

We really tried to find a way to locate his phone number, just to see the reaction when he picked it up and a voice said "Stop watching porn, you pervert!!!"

Sadly, we couldn't find a way to do it. What a shame.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 16:54, 3 replies)
Exam time
My flat mate at uni walked into the living room with a cowboy gait and a large grin on his face.

Announcing to all in the room "You can tell when I've got exams coming up, my room's tidy and my cock's sore. That's the sixth time today"
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 16:25, Reply)
busted in his car
years back ( about 12 ) My place of work was at the end of a mostly residential street in Eltham south east london. The house opposite was one of those " massage" places that advertised in the local rag. En-vogue was their name and during the day there would be regular gentleman visitors arriving and departing within the hour. We used to watch out of our first floor office windows. One time there was a fella sitting in his car outside our building. We were looking down at him from above through his sunroof. The filthy cheapskate was only beating one out before his visit! Maybe he wanted to impress his lady masseuse with his staying power by emptying his sack before she got her hands on it?
Needless to say he never did get to finish the job as there were 6 of us yelling and cheering out of the window and dropping rolled up bits of bog roll onto the roof of his car.
He actually had the nerve to call us a bunch of cunts as he drove off too....
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 16:20, Reply)
Winners Dinner
Apparently he wanted 'coquilles' not the cock eels I served him.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 15:48, Reply)
While walking in the hills of Wales on holiday a couple of years ago, my father and I got chatting about computers
He reckoned he had a virus of some sort, and I asked him to describe the symptoms.

Sure enough they sounded weird. Now - I'm no techie - I can touch-type and know how to change the RAM in a laptop and that's it, but I figured I'd do my best to diagnose the issue, and so stated with teh basics. I asked him a question no son should have to ask his father, or ever, ever know the answer to: "Dad, er ... what sort of, er ... what sort of websites do you go on?"


His answer, and I assure you he'd be proud to tell me otherwise, considering he's in his mid-70s, was that he goes to the Library of Congress, there's a couple of Cambridge book sites he goes to, there's one about the snails he's studying ...

I was further reassured last summer, when, being crap at deciding which restaurant to go to, Mrs V suggested we look one up on the internet. "What? Do they have restaurants on there now, do they?" he enquired, genuinely.

Oh dad. Bless your cottons. In an ironic twist of fate, I feel so paternally protective of your innocence, knowing you've probably forgotton more than I'll ever know.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 15:19, 6 replies)
Big Brother? Big Aunty more like...
I stayed at my Aunties flat in London many years ago , back I was an 18-year-old wankaholic.

During my first day sight-seeing I wandered alone around Soho, trying like hell to hide my perma-erection whilst practically drooling at the ACTUAL hardcore XXX VHS videos - with real erections, real penetration, real cum-shots, real anal and real everything. Back home, there wasn't even a sex shop, so it was like heaven.

I repeated this for three days trying to pluck up the courage to actually buy something. I'd not wanked since I arrived and I felt like I could explode in my pants at any moment. Anyway, by now 'the lust' had taken over my mind - I walked in to a place, picked a video from the list and made off with my first porno. Woo!

Now, most guys will tell you what happens when you get infected with 'the lust'... it distracts you, it makes you complacent, it makes you not care about consequences... and all you can think about is getting off. Simples.

I had 'the lust' bad. That night, when my aunt and her bf went to bed, I waited about 30 seconds for them to fall asleep, stuck the video in the machine, turned down the sound and started watching. Within a couple of minutes I was wanking for all I was worth, a minute later I was spent.

The thing with 'the lust' is how quickly it dissipates after orgasm. Suddenly the whole house was silent except for my heavy breathing and the fake gasping from a slut being butt-fucked. I sheepishly wiped myself down with the world's loudest kleenex and went to sleep.

The next day, my aunt came downstiars, looked at me with disgust and just said "You better not have got spunk on my new couch..." Then turned and left for work. I stood there open-mouthed and speechless.

Her BF came down a bit later "Short film was it?" He said with a wink, nodding at the TV. Turns out they had some device that routed the VCR picture to their bedroom TV and they had seen exactly what I had been watching. She had been furious but didn't dare come downstairs and risk catching her favourite nephew wanking.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 14:46, 7 replies)
Kays catalogue
Dad forgot his keys and stumbled in on me flicking through the maternity bra section of Kays catalogue. I later came home after school to find a porn mag nestled under my pillow with a yellow sticky note attached saying "enjoy, Dad."
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:54, 16 replies)

(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:43, Reply)
Yes, he was a total arsehole...
I had a boyfriend who begged and pleaded with me to flick the bean in front of him as he said it would be really hot.
So I did.
He then ripped the piss out of me mercilessly saying stuff like "oh I bet you lie around all weekend rubbing one out" and actually told some of his mates.
I wish I'd killed him the day I met him as I'd be out on licence now.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:41, 10 replies)
This one time
I was down in London, but I'd forgot to call my mates before I went down, and when I arrived they were out. Fuck. Cunt. Bastard. So I was in an all-night cinema when I met this guy and he said I could crash it his. Well, I was knackered, so I thought, oh well, a bed's a bed.

Woke up and the guy was wanking off onto my face.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:39, 7 replies)
I'm sorry to say...
That I am not qualified to answer this question, as I have never battled in hand-to-gland combat.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:35, 11 replies)
my name is jacob dyer and i live in bristol. it is fantastic. i sound like barnaby bear. i like barnaby bear. one time he went to france. i went to france. but some kid wanked on my neck. i didnt like it.

(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:29, Reply)
I used to work in an Aerospace factory
A guy looked over the top of a toilet cubicle and caught someone wanking. This guy told everyone what he had seen. What should have happened was the guy should have been sacked for peeking over the top of toilet cubicles. What actually happened was the other guy got sacked for wanking in the toilets. I think they sacked him for an "unsanctioned break"

Cunt and Cunts.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 13:05, 8 replies)
A Fair While Back

~~~~wavy lines~~~~

This was when Blackberry phones were, pretty much, the only way you could get secure e-mail on a phone.

I was third-line support for a multi-national. If the helldesk couldn't sort the problem it was kicked to 2nd line, some of whom had actually seen a PC. If they couldn't sort it, it was kicked upstairs to us. Third-line. The $ stopped here. We had to sort it.

So a few execs got Blackberries -they could talk, securely, to our Exchange servers (meant they were using MS Outlook) - so I was given a Blackberry to play with for a few weeks so I was familiar with the way it worked. (BTW - that's the way it is in third-line. Training? Fuck that. Here's a system. Play with it and become an instant expert)

So 2nd day of playing with Blackberry, boss sent me an e-mail?

"How are you getting on with the new Blackberry"

"Magic" I replied. "I can read and reply to my e-mail while having a wank. Like now"

"You disgust me....."

Disclaimer: This really happened except "wank" was replaced by "shit". I haven't got any wanking stories. At least, none I'm willing to share.....

(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 12:48, 2 replies)
Court Case
This didn't involve me but happened in my home town of Greenock and was reported in the newspaper.

Two cleaners were going to a job at 5am when they saw a man wanking up at his window. Shocked, they called the fuzz and the man was arrested.

The court case came up and the cleaners were asked what hand he was using to chug with. They both said the right.

The guy got off (way-hay) with it as his lawyer highlighted that because Mr.X was left handed he couldn't possibly have been masturbating.

As soon as the verdict was announced I asked my mates what hand they used for self gratification and some south paws used the right and some righty's used their left. The UK justice system eh!
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 12:24, 5 replies)
A really bad day
I have only ever been caught masturbating three times in my life. (I'm 33, so not a bad record considering the near-millions of hand shandies I must have enjoyed).

Less impressive? All three times were by my mum.

Even less impressive? All three times were on the same fucking day.

By the third time, my reaction was less of shame and humiliation but more along the lines of 'for fuck's sake leave me alone woman, I'm in the middle of something here'.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 12:12, 5 replies)
I was young - I can't place my age, whenever you first discover wanking - and was have a 5 knuckle shuffle after perfecting the art for the previous 2 weeks.

As I got into it I'd somehow managed to tangle my foot in the end of the bed, one of them annoying metal framed beds with entwining bars. I was reaching the point of no return when suddenly my foot had become so stuck I got the most awful cramp I've ever had, I screamed but was still somehow using my early teen determination to continue my mission, the cramp got worse and went from just my calf to into my thigh.

I yanked my leg out whilst STILL carrying on but the momentum threw me off the side of the bed, I fell onto my drum kit (anybody who owns a kit will know there are loads of metal pointy bits sticking out) and created a massive gash - not the good kind of gash - across my forehead.

I still came.

It was awkward trying to think of an excuse as to why I had blood streaming from my head when my family burst into my room about 30 seconds later.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 12:08, 2 replies)
Isn't that what stalkers do?
I have always been a bit arty & creative, so I always have pens, pencils, scissors, glue, craft knives and the like hanging around.I've always been a bit pervy, so there's normally porn somewhere. And I've been a bit willing to overdo the beer and the (not so) MASSIVE DRUGS in the past.

And once, I combined the three.I'm not entirely sure what possessed me when I was drunk, stoned and horny to cut Phillipa Forrester's face out of the Sunday Supplement and stick it over that of the centrefold of the 'Club' magazine I had stashed in my first year Uni cell. Sorry 'Room'.

Well, actually, I am sure. I was drunk, stoned and horny.

Out came the craft knife and the pritt stick and, in my haze, I was pretty pleased with my work. So pleased that I decided to have a second attempt. If I remember rightly it was Kylie Minogues face that I cut out and found an appropriate size image to paste it over.

This was fun. I wanted to do more. I searched the supplement for more celebrity faces. Then I started hacking at my Empire Magazines. Then any old magazines I had laying around until until, in a blizzard of pervy creativity and scraps of paper I had my very own personalised Celebrity Wank Mag.

By then it was the early hours of the morning, my drunken high was wearing off and I was suddenly hit with the sheer...wrongness...of what I'd done. The hormones and hard on faded and I was pretty disgusted with myself. I cleared up as best I could, shoved the waste into the bin, but not quite being willing to throw away my handiwork, just chucked it under the bed and went to sleep, forgetting about it.

Forgetting about it until a week later, when in a very rare moment of success I had someone in my bed with me. No dirty wanking for me that night, I was going to get laid. Or at least, i would be if I had any condoms. Which I did. Under my bed. If she'd just reach under and get them for us...

The panic set in almost instantly but it was too late to stop me hearing 'What's this? Oh. It would be fun to read this together...'

No. It wasn't.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 11:53, 1 reply)
Not my story, but a local legend
There was a court case here a few years ago, concerning an old bloke who'd been caught furiously beating his shrivelled todger on the top deck of the night bus, which was full of teenage language students at the time. But this was not some seedy flasher; he was a rather smartly dressed, polite and apparently civilised gent.

When it came to court, the judge asked him to explain himself. Why would a man who was apparently a fine, upstanding, moral and responsible member of society, who had led a blameless and law-abiding life, suddenly start behaving in this way?

"Well, Your Honour, it was the first erection I'd had in twenty years, and I didn't want to waste it."

The judge - himself a man of advanced years of course - accepted that, under the circumstances, it was reasonable behaviour, and sentenced him to a fine of one penny.

So I guess that's a wanking disaster avoided, in the end!
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 10:29, 6 replies)
I've spent so long reading qotw answers in the toilet...
...my colleagues are probably going to think I'm wanking in here :)
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 10:24, 1 reply)
So Shocktor Drambolic
Has finished his mid-week shabu binge. Either that or a b3ta lifer dobbed him into the warden who then rescinded his interwebs privileges.
Either way thank flunge for that.
Ohh. Err...
Someone had a wank, got caught by someone else & all parties were really, incredibly embarrassed.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 8:40, 2 replies)
Helpful advice
When finishing off on your wife/girlfriends face, avoid the nostrils. Generally kills the mood.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 8:01, 1 reply)
What the fuck
is burlesque?

Am I meant to have an erection or not?
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 7:27, 5 replies)
in the dark days before the internet.....
My dad caught me having a hand shandy. he never said anything though, just looked rather embarrassed and left the room ... it was his porn mag I was shuffling it off to.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 5:36, 1 reply)

A new girlfriend had promised me a bit of downstairs toungue massage.
Unfortunatly i got this message via text at work and being the imaginative man i am thusly got a stonk on.
Not wanting to show any customers my unimpressive buldge i made my excuses and ran to the upstairs toilet to try to coerce the little fellow back into hiding.
Cold water and viciously punching my crotch had no effect so the only way past my predic(k)ament was to have some time with five fingered (h)andria in one of the stalls.
As i reached the vinigar strokes the toilet door opened and one of my co workers loudly shouted my name , i quickly turned my noise of orgasmic pleasure into retching noises whilst using a bunch of toilet paper to catch the mess.
They let me go home early and told me to look after myself.
Later that evening the nice lady undid my trousers and got to work, rougly three seconds into the act she took something out of her mouth at looked at it puzzelingly.
A whole section of toilet paper was now in her hand.
Thusly ends my tale and that relationship for that matter.
(, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 1:59, 1 reply)

This question is now closed.

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