b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Wanking Disasters Part II » Post 1088449 | Search
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

« Go Back

The question you should never ask
After the second little Hedgetrimmer came along, my partner and I decided we'd had enough of having our sleep patterns ruined and our social lives destroyed, so I volunteered to make the ultimate sacrifice (since Mrs Sonic had been through childbirth twice, it seemed only fair - and, no, what I had to go through is not comparable, I mean it).

So, after the longest twenty minutes of my life, during which the anaesthetic wore off (early on in the snipping of the second bollock) and at the end of which I had to walk home because the traffic was awful and there were no taxis to be had, I was sterile and in considerable discomfort (which at least got me out of the childcare for a couple of days).

Anyway, it stands to reason that if they've just cut off your means of reproduction they have to make sure they've done the job properly, so that you can safely look at the condoms on the chemist's shelf and think, "no more of my pocket money wasted on you, you smelly, rubbery, fiddly little buggers!" As part of this process I was required to produce a 'sample'. Since I lived a very short distance from the hospital, I decided to produce the sample at home and rush it to its destination while keeping it warm in my pocket. I had no desire to go into the little room and attempt to perform with only the stimulation of ninth-hand jazz mags, all the time trying not to think of all the men outside in the waiting room, waiting for their go (that waiting room has all the atmosphere of a funeral parlour, as the men in attendance try very hard not to catch each other's eye).

But I digress. It was first thing in the morning, and I'm not a morning person under any circumstances. In the bathroom, barely awake, under pressure of time, the sound of the kids downstairs adding to my self-consciousness and a silly little plastic container stuck where a woman ought to be... let's just say I wasn't primed, poised and ready to pump. What could I do? All the usual fantasies were failing to materialise in my addled brain - I was too tired to think straight (or even think gay).

I suddenly recalled a visit to my dental hygienist a few days previously. She's not my type - not ugly, but certainly not pretty. No tits or arse worth commenting on. No sexual chemistry between us. No atmosphere in the room when I visit her. No previous fantasy involving her. Why had she popped into my head as I tried to pop one out?

Well, I never found out why, but the mere surprise of thinking about her, of all people, crouching over me as I lay on the big padded chair, slipping off her trousers, grinding herself onto me, etc, etc, supply the details yourself, did the trick - and I slobbered out a trickle of 'sample', enough to form the basis of a decent and reliable analysis. A few weeks later, I found out that all was well and good and the results showed no tadpoles swimming about in the primordial soup of my scarred vas deferens; so I can safely shag any bird I like knowing that she's not going to call me in nine months' time.

The point of this story is that Mrs Sonic knew I had to produce this sample and had been keeping the kids away from the bathroom to give me time and space to perform without her (had the kids not been home, I'm sure she would gladly have offered to help). It was some weeks later that she asked me the question you should never ask.

"When you had to produce your sample... what were you thinking about?"

Ladies, do NOT ask your man what he thinks about when he's practising with his lightsabre. There is only one correct answer - "I always think about you, darling" - and it's not true. Even if it is true, you won't believe him, or you'll demand details about what you're doing in this fantasy and you really don't want to hear those.

I just said, "you should never ask a man that", and to my great relief she smiled knowingly and left it at that.

Apologies for length, but twenty minutes is long enough for anyone in that situation especially with a long walk home after.
(, Sat 19 Feb 2011, 23:08, Reply)

« Go Back

Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1