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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.

I can only get off by
Repeatedly hitting the F5 key with my cock. Every Thursday. Starting at around 10:30am, while I wait for the QOTW to finish.

I'm quite sore now.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 14:06, 2 replies)
Edit: Bollocks.

What say we all vote for "Idiotic Accidents!"

Looks the best of a bad lot to me.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 14:06, 2 replies)
I like to
Stand and quickly slap my erection like Benny Hill on that bald bloke's head.

Usually humming the Benny Hill theme and being chased by a line of women in saucy underwear.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 13:56, Reply)
None of these stories compare to this....

A truly monumental wanking disaster!
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 12:48, 3 replies)
A poke in the eye for him.
A friend. No, really.

Living in deepest Leicestershire in the early nineties, and being too young / innocent / monumentally blushing to buy any real pr0n from that nice Mr Jones at the newsagents, my mate Nathan was reduced to sniffing out any and every potential masturbatory visual-aid in the house. From the clinically precise line-drawings in the relevant volumes of Encyclopedias, to the minute-but-full-colour models posing for adult chat-lines in the back of his parents' magazines, he was an expert at finding inspiration for his energetic manipulations.

Cue one day, finding a small pile of photos in the corner of a cabinet in his lounge. Grainy, early seventies shots of irregular size and shape, and all featuring a gang of late-teen hippy-types disporting in minimal clothing on a beach somewhere.

Ah well, needs must: and Nathan enjoyed several adolescent moments in the privacy of his bedroom with these unknown-but-curvy beauties (some of them women).

Until, that is, his thirteen-year-old brain made the connection between one of the bathing beauties (long hair, deep tan, cute smile), and his (now much older and more sedate-looking) mumsy.

Yes indeed, without realising it, and through a combination of the mists of time and some over-developed film, Nathan had been wanking enthusiastically to an image of his own mother.

He told us in hushed tones of terrified awe, swearing us to secrecy.... Hmm.

To be fair, we did wait three whole minutes before blabbing to the entire county. Three minutes which were profitably employed in looking up the spelling of "Oedipus".

Length? His mum told him not to worry what the other boys said: she thought it was perfect.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 12:45, 2 replies)
my biggest wanking disaster
Is the volcano. I can always crack one out when there's one on the news. Two if it disrupts travel.
And when Pinatubo went off it's a wonder I didn't go blind.

My pornography collection comprises of stuff off the Discovery Channel.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 12:43, 2 replies)
My first ever post goes something like this:
More years ago than I’d care to note, I travelled around Morocco with a group of friends. Amongst their number was my mega crush, Mr Hot.

After a few actionless weeks of dorm sharing, we ended up in the deepest darkest depths of the desert and yours truly found herself in the happy position of having to share a twin room with Mr Hot.

When it came to sleepy-time, we chatted a little, the chat petered out and I assumed Mr Hot must have drifted off to sleep. I, bored, sleepless and horny (not to mention a little disappointed at the absence of the anticipated night of steamy sex), decided to pass the time with a little lady wank.

I was slightly bashful about doing this with Mr Hot in the room so I made a concealing sheet-tent with my leg, so no movement could be detected and silently began.

I’ll admit, it was surprisingly difficult to get into it with an unsuspecting, sleeping Mr Hot so close by and after only a short while I gave up, only to be met with a chuckle from his side of the room.

I froze in panic. He must have been awake.

“What’s funny?” I asked. “You know, it’s actually quite light in here” he replied. I’d been fwapping with my eyes closed, so tentatively opened them and sure enough, once they adjusted to the darkness, I could see the outline of the wardrobe and beds. Gulp.

Now, due to my cunning tent, I was still pretty sure he couldn’t possibly have seen anything but I had to know one way or the other so I put my leg back up, re-erecting the tent, slowly and silently slid my hand south, looked down and oh god.

I was wearing a glow in the dark watch that was shining like a bastard searchlight through the sheet.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 11:42, 9 replies)
There was this time, where I couldn't wank for two weeks
I was having a shit when a hot rock from the joint I was smoking landed right on my knob.

Couldn't even have sexy thoughts because a hard on would cause the scab to split.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 11:38, 1 reply)

Does anyone do this (blokes)? Lie on your back, legs apart a bit, grab your scrotum and testicles and draw them upwards and toward your belly button, then sort of throw them forward so they smack into your bum. Makes a cool noise.

Just wondering is all...
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 10:50, 10 replies)
'October 2005: Start Masturbating,'
That was my helpful handheld's autofill attempt at 'Start M.A. in Criminology'.

Should have stuck with the first option, for all the good that MA's done me.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 9:16, Reply)
I can't believe it's taken me all week to remember this.
I used to work in a garden centre at weekends and during school holidays. During one particularly decent summer, business was brisk and the owners had to take on temporary extra weekend staff to keep up with the constant flow of families after their Clematis addisonii or trying to create a boundary with their Cupressus macrocarpa.

(Sorry, not sure why I am showing off with the latin names, I guess I just don't get a chance to use this knowledge very often).

Anyway, we go this Carribean guy in, who was great, but...well...odd...and struggled with some English colloquialisms. I'd be having a bit of banter with the boss and later find myself being cornered by him, asking things like' What dis word "twat" mean?' or 'Dis word "tosser", what dat mean?'

The temptation to lie was too great, and before long he had a whole vocabulary of made up meanings. 'Tosser' was a type of Rose, 'Twatting' was the act of trimming the branches off fruit trees. He had different meanings for Wanker, Minge, Cockmunch and all sorts. I mean, it was funny, and no harm done really, he worked in the potting sheds and greenhouses mainly, not dealing with customers, so there was no risk of minsunderstanding on the whole.

Apart from the day when someone came in to buy some plants and he happened to be walking out of the shed and got cornered for help. I saw him wandering up and down the rows of plants, helping this old lady put different things on the trolly, Sciadopityaceae Voltziales, Geranium cinereum, Aster linosyris, and so on.

Finally, they went off to the shop and he started running things up on the till, and I walked in to see him checking the last of the plants to make sure there were no greenfly or anything. He looked up, and in front of the old lady he looked at me and said 'Hey, just in time to help with wanking dis Aster'

Oh holy fuck, that was awful. I know it, you know it, we all know it. And yet...after the effort I went to looking up the latin names, I'm still not sorry.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 8:58, 8 replies)
There are things that shouldn't be shared.
I really wish I had the audacity to share names, but lets just say there is a girl in the West Midlands that can easily orgasm on the train and does so frequently.

In my mind its just dirty, at least go to the loo.
(, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 1:22, 4 replies)
In the car
Does anyone else find that a long car trip can me made much more endurable with a little extra work on the personal gear shifter? The longer the trip, the longer the shifting. Just look out for trucks. This practice has made covering large distances quite enjoyable.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 23:20, 13 replies)
following on from the below
I cant tell you how many times ive been late for work for wanking.

It starts harmlessly enough, a little touching, but once the semi is there... theres no turning back.

Its like "oh great, Im going to have to wank you away now, this is all I need"

I dont enjoy it, I just have to get it out my system. Once done, I quickly get ready, lambasting all my efforts.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 17:34, 9 replies)
I've started so I'll finish
I'm the sort of guy who needs a decent audio / visual stimulous in order to successfully exchange contracts with Mr Winkle. Nor am I willing to stop once I've developed a semi - this is my point of no return.

As a result I have spent more than a few awkward evenings in my bedroom, flicking through our useless terrestrial TV channels in the vain hope of finding a lady to inspire my signing on the dotted line of said contract.

I have literally spent hours painfully maintaining a vague erection in the hope that the next programme would have a pretty lady, heck - any lady - to help in my "negotiations". I'll be damned if I'm going to waste a semi, I'll be there all night if I have to!

Over the years I have relied on late-night weather girls and those ladies who do the sign-language for crap like Countryfile.

Help me.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 17:27, 13 replies)
I had a run in with
South African girl on the tube the other day. She accused me of wanking at her... All I gave her was a little harmless wink...Pfft some people!
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 16:55, 2 replies)
A long time ago in the Holy Land
King David was looking rather pale and unwell, and the courtiers were worried. What he needed, they thought, was some good news to perk him up. Now, at that time they were looking for a symbol to represent their people, and had hit on the six-pointed star. So, in order to cheer up the king and hopefully put some colour back in his cheeks, they decided to call it the Star Of David.

So the headline in the papers the next day read:

Wan King D's A Star!

Check, please!
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 16:34, 2 replies)
If loud mouthed boxing impresario Don King got a Latino bird pregnant, and she gave birth to a total spastic...
That could potentially be THE Juan King Disaster!
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 15:45, 3 replies)
You know that myth about Marlilyn Manson?
So I'd been enjoying one of the few pleasures of puberty for a year or so now. Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to stimulate the mind other than an illustrated encyclopaedia with a naked pregnant woman in it, so I was starting to look around for more. The library was a good place to start, and after a few weeks I had managed to sneak home some art that was exciting, though only to the teenage mind. Basically I had found a magazine where the pap had snapped some drunk celebrity showing off all and everything, and a couple of books on puberty with some nekkid illustrations in.

Separately, I was also quite a bendy kid, since my joints hadn't set yet, and I was a fairly keen martial artist. One night, but not the fateful night, I was pumping away in my bed when I noticed that I could actually bend quite close to the top of my purple domed shaft, almost close enough to touch it with my tongue. This was fucking magic waiting to happen. Over the coming nights I would bend down further and further, and yes, I could give myself a damn good suck.

Now to that fateful night; I had the lust something bad, and had laid out all my dirty library pictures on my bed - there were norks as far as the eye could see, phwoar! After getting myself hard as only a young man can get, I got my head down and started slurping away. This was beautiful and Bacchus himself would have been proud of the pure hedonistic pleasure.

Now just as I'm about to cum - and yes, I fucking came in my mouth and swallowed - just as I'm about to cum, I hear a knock on my door; it's my dad asking why I'm awake at that late hour. I would tell him not to come in, but my mouth is full of dick at the time, shit! Then I cum, in my mouth, as my dad walks in.

So he sees me surrounded by the fucking tamest naked pictures you've ever seen, mouth dripping with my own boy fat, bathed in a post-orgasmic haze of shame and self-lust, and leaves.

This has never, ever, been brought up in conversation.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 14:16, 28 replies)
under the bed
ok, so I moved out of my mum and dads (for the umpeenth time), but still kept a bed to stay over in. My mum would go through phases of clearing out bedrooms of me and my brothers. She would also give us fair warning, knowing she didnt want to uncover jazz mags or anything like that.

Well, it was now the internet era, no more need for magazines, it was all on my pc.

So i when i heard my mum was planning to 'go over' my room, i thought nothing of it. Until i came home one day, and my dad had a word with me to get rid of the 'bag' in the back room. and that my mum was disgusted with me.

Walking into the back room, I found an asda bag full - when i mean full - I mean the knot at the top was just about tied, such was the brimming fullness of the bag. Inside looking back at me, was several years worth of snot rags... all a different stages of yellowness - I assume, the older the more yellow the tissue got with the snot on.

I laughed, for years i had been cleaning up and storing the tissue under my bed - to flush away the next day, only i always forgot.

(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 13:43, 2 replies)
'Twas the summer of '79
Young Che was sitting his OWLs or 'O' Levels as we used to call them. Being a fairly strict old grammar school, we weren't allowed home to revise for the odd half day, but had to sit in silence at solitary exam-desks in the school hall and revise, while around us, some pupils took Latin or something. We sat (all 300-odd of us) alphabetically, and as luck would have it, my desk was in the row at the very back of the hall. It was warm, I was bored, I was 15 - soon to be 16.

Need I go on?

Well yes, because Erica Grimaldi was sitting just in front and one row to the right of me. I'd actually been 'in love' with her since primary school, though she barely knew I existed. Still, what harm eh? Everyone was concentrating on their revision and the very sight of Erica's bare leg showing below her skirt and the outline of her bra strap was more than enough to produce an erection of such severity that it threatened to part the fibres of my navy blue school trousers. It had already poked its head out of the top of my black cotton briefs.

Right, time to concentrate on Chemistry...

Fuck it. I ever-so-casually put my right hand into my trouser pocket. Little Che bobbed up like a friendly puppy to nuzzle my fingers. I stroked the back of his head, slowly, methodically, silently, stealthily. I stroked and stroked, this was nice, oh yes. There's Erica, so close I could almost smell the shampoo from her long, shiny hair. She shifted in her chair, her skirt slid a little further up her thigh, she scratched her leg, she pushed her hair back behind her ear.

On I stroked, methodically, slowly. My heart started to beat faster and faster, I had to control my breathing, I carefully stretched out my legs, oh yes, here it comes, keep going, breathe slowly, stroke, stroke, OH YES, that's it, that's it, that's IT. Heart beating, face red, breathe held I pumped spunk into my trousers. So much spunk. So hot, and damp.

And relax. Remove hand. Check the time - just ten minutes til lunchtime. OK, back to chemistry...

"OK, pens down, turn over your papers. If you're not taking an exam, quietly leave the hall."

I got up and followed Erica out of the hall towards the door. One of my classmates came up behind me,

"You dirty bastard Grimsdale!" he grinned at me, "I know what you were up to."

Shit! I slunk of to the toilets and cleaned myself up as best I could with a face as red as pillar box.

To my eternal gratitude, Alex didn't tell anyone what he'd witnessed. Disaster, but limited.

Still ranks in the top 5 of exquisite wanks of all time.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 13:23, Reply)
I must have been about 11 or 12 when I read in the Express & Star that some bloke had been found wanking in the cubicles in Central Baths. In those days the cubicles ran all round the pool and just had a curtain for privacy, so he must have liked to live dangerously.

Next day, walking to school with my best mate Steve, I asked if he'd read the same article. Wanting to act all cool and mature I said "some bloke was caught masturbicating."
"Doing what?", asked Steve.
"Masturbicating. It means wanking," I explained.
"No it doesn't, you pranny, you mean masturbating." And Steve ran off to tell everyone at school that I didn't know what wanking was.

Running after him, I shouted "Masturbating, I meant masturbating! I know what it is", only belatedly realising that everyone getting into their cars to go to work was wondering why I was boasting about it.
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 10:05, 1 reply)
"So breast-feeding is acceptable in public because it's perfectly natural.
Well so is masturbation - not that you'd guess when I got thrown off the No. 34 to Aldgate this morning." - Viz
(, Wed 23 Feb 2011, 9:12, Reply)
Skippy brand peanut butter
Not me, but someone at school. There was this guy who was not ultra-popular, but also not a non-entity. However, he apparently was experimenting too much with his wing-wang and decided to seek greener pastures for his self-abuse.

Hence it was that this young man decided to cover his high school chubby with peanut butter and allow his golden retriever to lick the peanut butter off his wienie; in his back yard; on a weekend; during the daytime.

Good luck was not with him that afternoon: a neighbor who went to the same high school had a couple of friends over and they witnessed the whole thing and word quickly spread throughout the school.

For the rest of his high school life and into adulthood, he became affectionately known as "Skippy."

(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 22:29, 5 replies)
If it exists...
There is porn of it, and someone somewhere has probably been caught wanking over it.
(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 21:32, 3 replies)
Poor Puss
I think I was about 13 or 14 and enjoying myself having just woken up one Saturday morning, as any young man is wont to do. At the time, my beloved first cat (who was actually older than me) was definitely in the last stages of her life. Loved that cat and still miss her, she was lovely. It was just a matter of time for her and we all knew it, she'd had a good life and was well loved, we were just letting her peacefully go when her time was up.

Unfortunately for me, it happened to be that same particular Saturday morning that I'd decided to 'tussle with the beast' - not that me doing this was an irregular occurrence I suppose I should add. So just as I was reaching a shattering climax I hear my mum wail from the next room 'Mr Lew, Puss has died!'

Yeah, definitely a few pangs of guilt over that one... Length? Around 10 years ago now I guess, so it's quite strange I'm feeling guilty even typing this and soiling her lovely name!
(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 20:36, 4 replies)
Someone must have said it already
But I'll say it again. I think we are all wankers (and by "we" I mean "you").
(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 19:23, 2 replies)
Is there nothing that someone wont find wank worthy?
I was at work trawling though the internet, as we needed a medical oxygen tent and a leaf blower (dont ask).

Finding medical oxygen tents online is harder than you think. Mainly as you cannot do a decent search without having to trawl though loads of pissant camping supplies. I thought I could save time by google image search to filter out the wrong kinds of tent more readily.

safe search was off, this didn't bother me as surely no one would find camping that stimulating....

In the middle of my office I sat as my screen filled up with people who are jizzing on tents, having tent orgies and generally having a better time camping than I have ever had.

I thought I was unshockable, but tent fetishes caught me off guard. I continued my enquires by phone and didn't make eye contact for the rest of the day.
(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 18:29, 9 replies)
Pea roasty roasty roasty
Not me but the shop nextdoor
was a very high class maternity wear shop.

It had nice comfy chairs just outside the changing rooms.

One afternoon when all the changing rooms were full of pregnant ladies a man came in, sat down in the chair, got his lad out and wanked himself square and round again.
(, Tue 22 Feb 2011, 16:26, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

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