b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Bedroom Disasters » Page 5 | Search
This is a question Bedroom Disasters

Big Girl's Blouse asks: Drug fuelled orgies ending in a pile of vomit? Accidental spillage of Chocolate Pudding looking like a dirty protest? Someone walking in on you doing something that isn't what it looks like?... Tell us about your Bedroom Disasters

(, Thu 23 Jun 2011, 15:14)
Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I once suffered from a muscle strain, but I couldn't find any deep heat, so I had anal sex instead.

(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 12:54, 1 reply)
Crash
A girlfriend of mine, Sally, live in a beautiful old house. The bedroom had a big brass-framed bed in it, wooden floorboards, and a fantastic view out over a park. As it was an old house everything about it was a bit rickety: in particular the floorboards were mostly loose and creaked and wobbled as you walked on them, but it was very charming.

Now Sally suffered from something called gastric reflux, which isn’t very pleasant. To combat some of the symptoms she had the head end of her bed raised up on a couple of wooden blocks: only about 5 cm, but the slope was enough to stop her coughing all night.

I’m sure you can see what’s coming. During a particularly heated moment of passion the bed went crashing down off its blocks. That in itself was bad enough: there was a very loud bang and the entire bedframe shook and jangled. However the effect of the bed banging onto the loose floorboards was that their opposite ends shot up, overturning the two bedside tables, which tipped all their contents onto the floor with a huge crash.

It’s a bit of a passion-killer when it sounds like a plane just crashed into the house and the whole bed drops suddenly and unexpectedly.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 12:52, 1 reply)
When I was really drunk I totally got up in the middle of the night
and pissed all over the room in a big, slow circle, went to the wardrobe, took a shit in it, then gave my girlfriend anal using bleach and iron filings for lube, and then sleep-walked into my parents' bedroom and was sick all over my dad, who was humping the dog.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 12:24, 38 replies)
I don't like one night stands, they leave a funny taste in my mouth.
She was a colleague. We were drunk, we were fumbling around, the condom went on, the sex was perfunctionary, but it did the trick for me. The old chap pulled out. The condom came off and was discarded. We slept fitfully, we woke up. She seemed panicked.

'My boyfriend is coming round later, we need to get this place sorted. Where's the condom from last night?'

So, I looked around the bed, I looked down her side of the bed, I looked down my side of the bed, I moved my clothes to one side, picked up the pint of water, moved my keys, moved her underwear, but i couldn't see it anywhere. It wasn't in the bin, in the bed, on the floor, on the bedside table.

'I really have no idea', I said, 'I looked everywhere'. I took a swig of the water

*cough*

'Found it'.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:58, 2 replies)
I once persuaded a girl I was sleeping with to do anal.
Fortunately we had a dedicated sexual lubricant at hand - durex brand, I believe - so I didn't have to improvise; she went and...cleaned herself up...beforehand, and overall it went very well.

Another time, she wanted to do anal, but I couldn't find any lube, so we just didn't bother that night, but we did nip round the local filth emporium the next morning.

Normally I wouldn't post such personal and embarrassing matters, but it seems this approach is rare enough to merit attention.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:51, 6 replies)
I sat on my bed last night and part of the wooden structure snapped :(

(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:41, 4 replies)
Here's what I discovered back when I was in college.
If you're going to try some anal fun, and you can't find any lubricant, don't attempt to use the eleventh edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. Despite containing excellent articles, it does not lubricate effectively.
Length? 29 volumes.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:33, 1 reply)
This one's not mine, it's my brother's.
During uni, my Brother lived in a big shared house with about eight people.
He and his flatmates decided to have house party. It all went swimmingly, and around five in the morning, 'ickle bro decides it's time to head to bed. But as he approaches his door, he hears the unmistakable sounds of passion and, sure enough, in his bed are two drunken revellers at it like sharp knives.

The chap interrupts his stroke when he realizes what's happened and pleads, nay, begs my brother to let them continue. They won't be ten minutes and he's wanted to shag this bird for ages. Please mate. Be a pal. Etc,

My brother, being the stout man of honour he is, agrees to give him half an hour. Then they must be Out.

So off my brother goes for a nightcap. He's not got two steps when the bloke sticks his head round the door.
"scuse me mate, h'ave you got any lube? She's letting me do anal."

Now doing anal in a stranger's bed is a different kettle of fish.
So my brother goes off to the medicine cabinet, and, in the darkness of the corridor, hands the guy...

A tube of Deep Heat.


Apparently you could hear the screams two floors down.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:17, 3 replies)
Most people here know that I used to train the English Ladies Soccer team.
My plan to get a close relative of a well known male striker to play up front proved not to be a good idea.
She was a bad Rooney sister.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:10, 3 replies)
Back when I was leading an army of Arab tribesmen to attack Damascus, one coward took his camel one night and fled.
We never saw him again. That was my Bedouin deserter.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 11:04, 2 replies)
I was in bed with my 12yo sister when my dad walked in.
SO embarassing.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 10:56, 6 replies)
Drop your chips
As per all the other stories here, a younger and friskier Moon Monkey was getting sweaty with one of the poor unfortunate lasses who have mistaken me for suitable boyfriend material. It was decided that lube was required; I can't remember why -- it may have been a Cackpipe Cosmonaut* situation.

Unfortunately, no suitable substance could be found in the bedside drawers. Ever resourceful, I take my straining erection for a quick tour of the house, looking for a workable substitute. "Vegetable oil!" thinks I, in a burst of inspiration.

All well and good, and a perfectly reasonable solution. Except that I really shouldn't have used the oil we'd cooked chips in earlier that night, and which was still full of burnt crispy bits.

And speaking of "crispy bits" it was several weeks before she was able to face further attempts at mattress mambo.


* One who prefers docking at the rear docking port
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 10:44, 5 replies)
Got fired by Alan Sugar
That was my boardroom disaster :'-(
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 10:20, 6 replies)
Halls of residence...
middle of the night, me and an ex were settling down in the lumpy single bed for the night, until she decides to start finding things to get paranoid about

Her attention focuses on a ray of light beaming through the shoddy curtains that wouldn't close properly, and decided its clearly a ghost. In an effort to shut her up I put my hand over her mouth and we both peer at the light, trying to make out i guess what shape of ghost it is, the concentration levels are intense...

...and in true halls of residence fashion, the fire alarm goes off.

The resulting shock and involuntary 'argh, its noticed we've noticed it' movements result in some of my fingers shoved down her throat. It took me a while to figure out what had just happened but for a few split seconds I was convinced It had slimed us

Never heard the end of it
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 10:12, 4 replies)
Drunken dirty talk.
We were drunk. Really drunk. Rising to the occassion, however, we commenced sport. Instead of the desperate fumbling and thrusting, I took a more laid-back approach, and, ever practical, considering my state and the amount of lager I'd drunk, manouvred myself underneath, so that she was on top. Slowly - so slowly - we continued. The bed was warm, so warm, comforable, and I was drunk - oh so drunk. So warm. So comfortable. So drunk.

After a while, she purred "What are you thinking about?".

Honestly, I replied, "I was thinking about Alan, playing a banjo while sitting on a bridge."

Well that's one way to finish it, anyway.
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 9:16, 9 replies)
Oh go on then. I'll re re re pearost.
Why has B3ta made me relive this WWWWWWWWHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
bEFORE i START-fecking caps lock- my tale of woe, a little background.

I used to live in Bangkok, and also like a bit of a drink. As such for many years I used to wake up still langered with strange girls in my bed. The usual thing to do in this situation is grope around a bit, then have a nice drunken bleary eyed morning shag then send the young lady on her way, with the money in her purse to keep her kids in shoes for another month.

You think this is going to be about waking up with a ladyboy don't you. You're wrong, that was last weeks QOTW. This is much much worse.

So I'd been away for a few years, and it was time to pop home to visit friends and family for a week. I arrived had dinner with the parents, and it was off down the pub for a session with the mates.

Now I like to think I can take my drink, but the combination of getting on the plane pissed, drinking for the entire flight- good old Thai air, they still ply you with drink to this day- then an evening down the local on top of my jet lag, and I was in a right state. At least I think I was, as I can't remember this part of the story, I'm pieceing it together from what I've been told, and a little deduction.

So it's 2 in the morning, the local gorgonzola city club is kicking out, and I need to go back to the parents house for some long overdue sleep.

But on arriving at the front door I had the old can't get the key in the lock problem, so in the end settled for sleeping on the garden path in front of the front door.

Now my dad is a baker, and as such gets up very early in the morning to go to work. So at around 5 he opens the front door to find me asleep on the path, wakes me up, tells me I'm an idiot, and sends me inside to go to bed.

I stumble upstairs climb into bed, and all is well with the world. I can remember none of this.

What I can remember, is waking up about an hour later- why is it when you've been on a proper bender you can only sleep for a short time, when what you need is a good eight hours?- in a darkened room, pissed out of my face, and a bit disorientated.

Now I thought I was still in my room in Bangkok, and true to form there was a nice warm body in the bed next to me. So what else could I do, but try and get it on. But things didn't go as usual, my advances were met with screams of Eden, what the fuck are you doing?

Yes, I had stunmbled upstairs, and got into bed with my mum. Apparently she had tried to kick me into my own bed, but to no avail, so had gone back to sleep, with me sleeping in her bed. Then I woke up and tried it on.

So the most horrific thing I've seen, is me, trying to fuck my mum.

Just recounting this brings back those suicidal feelings.

I'm off to book some more therapy.

Don't make the length jokes. Please don't.

*cries*
(, Mon 27 Jun 2011, 0:37, 36 replies)
The Tale of Transfusion Webby
A few years back I had just started seeing this rather petit lady (who shall be referred to as Laura, even though that was not her name) and this one evening we decided to officially become a couple. We decided that the best way to celebrate this was to do the no pants dance and she of course decided to go on top.
After about 5 minutes of doing the deed in the pitch black I realised that I was rather sweaty. Then the next thing I know something resembling that of one of the little plastic tubs of jam you get given with toast in any low budget canteen had landed on my chest.

She got up and turned the light on and it was like a slasher movie - my chest was literally covered in blood, the mattress was ruined and yet she still wasn't stopping. The pot of jam turned out to be a blood clot and she ended up spending three days in hospital, had two blood transfusions, and I had to speak to her mother for the first time with the words "Hi I'm Webby, Laura's new boyfriend. I'm afraid there's been an accident...."

Length? Enough to rip her inner ladygarden open it seems....
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 23:41, 6 replies)
Anal Adventures in the Dark
This is not my story but a friend's that I love to tell. The last time I told her how much joy the story brought me and other people she was horrified that I was retelling it to anyone who would care to listen. Given that this is the internet and anyone could be reading it I have asked, and been given, permission to share.

If you've ever seen Chasing Amy, you'll recall the scene where Banky and Alyssa are comparing injuries sustained in the pursuit of sexual gratification, each attempting to out do the last. This story came to light in similar circumstances. I had just played my 'I've manage to accidentally get semen in three different girls' eyes' card. Lucy's topped that.

Lucy and her boyfriend had been enjoying a late night romp when the focus moved from front bottom to bottom true. Despite the claims made in Brokeback Mountain, spit is not the most lubricating of fluids and it was agreed an alternate solution was required.
Now, I've never asked why Lucy didn't have lube. She strikes me as the kind of girl to have a store of this kind of thing, kept not far from a collection of toys, but it transpires she didn't. What Lucy did have, working in the beauty industry, was a well stocked cabinet of lotions and potions, and it was to here that her boyfriend was sent. In the dark he grabs a bottle and a few squirts here and there, a bit of working it into the important areas followed by working it into the important area. It worked perfectly and, as far as I gather, a good time was had by all involved.

The following morning the boyfriend woke and headed to the bathroom. As he positioned himself in front of the toilet he looked down to find his once white penis had developed a distinctly brown hue. As he stood, confused, he noticed his palms, too, were now much browner than he remembered. He returned to the bedroom and stood naked at the foot of the bed. Brown palms forward, matching manhood. Lucy's stifled giggle quickly turned to full on guffawing when it was confirmed that the impromptu lube was, in fact, fake tan.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 22:46, 6 replies)
Night terrors
Sleeping with my ex, after an awful weekend of being ignored, I suddenly woke up terrified, dissorientated and screaming. See, I'd been having a night terror, which I only get when stressed or depressed, when her phone rang, the vibrate woke me but I was confused and afraid. I remember thinking very clearly "Why am I screaming? Should I keep screaming? It would be worse if I wasn't screaming when I should be then to scream when I shouldn't." So I kept screaming until I got shouted at. Then I instantly fell into fits of giggles until I fell asleep again.

The lady wasn't impressed but then, I'd had an awful weekend and it was entirely down to her selfishness so I wasn't overly bothered.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 16:52, Reply)
The dog farted...
It was so disgustingly foul that all sexual activities were temporarily suspended while some fresh oxygen was enticed through the open door and window.


EDIT: I should add the sexual activities were with my ex GF. Not the dog. Just making that clear.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 13:16, 7 replies)
Ouch.
The Armagh rail disaster happened on 12 June 1889 near Armagh, Ireland when a crowded Sunday school excursion train had to negotiate a steep incline; the steam locomotive was unable to complete the climb and the train stalled. The train crew decided to divide the train and take forward the front portion, leaving the rear portion on the running line. The rear portion was inadequately braked and ran back down the gradient, colliding with a following train. Seventy-eight people were killed and 260 injured, about a third of them children. To this day, it remains the fourth worst railway accident in a bedroom.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 9:57, 1 reply)
Omega
Back when I was in sixth form I had a friend who had a tennis court in his back garden. All very lovely. One summer we decided to play drunken monkey tennis and bought several 3 litre bottles of Omega cider and some cans of Saracen. Oh yeah, no expense spared - he had a tennis court after all.

The combination of crazy amounts of cheap alcohol, plus heatwave, plus 3 hours of near constant tennis left us feeling a bit....peckish. We decided to take a break and grab ourselves a pot noodle. Living the dream man!

I ate mine in about 2 minutes flat, as I am wont to do. I could feel my stomach rumbling angrily and I was already doing that 'bile-swallowing' routine as I repeatedly told myself not to be "the one that threw up". 'Fortunately' however it seemed that my friend was also feeling the effects of drunken monkey tennis and ran into the downstairs loo to hurl. The sound of this prompted me to lose my battle of wills and I shouted out to ask him where the upstairs loo was. He chokingly told me through his chundering noises.

I ran upstairs, "first door on the left" - threw it open and promptly threw up. All over his mother's bedroom. He came upstairs to check out how I was shortly afterwards, to find me scooping pot noodle off the carpet and carrying it to the SECOND door on the left to the toilet.

We hoovered the rest up and then did the whole room so things didn't seem 'out of place', then decided we had to do the rest of the house just to be sure. We were soon very sober and very headachey.

His Mum came home and commended us for tidying the house. We didn't 'get served'.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 9:48, 1 reply)
A girl took me back to her place.
Before we got there she said
"I should tell yer, I've got an oboe in me room."

He turned out to be really smelly.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 5:38, Reply)
I once
Fell asleep on a packet of hobnobs.
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 3:42, 5 replies)
My seven year old brother was obsessed with snooker.....
...and begged and pleaded for a table for his birthday. Mum and dad told him it was too expensive but had in fact bought him one and the plan was that it would be unveiled with great ceremony on the morning of his birthday. The only flaw in this cunning plan was that it needed to be assembled and then stored so being a very kind much older sister I suggested that it was put in my bedroom over night. I was off out for a mate's party and when I came home severely bevvied up at 3am my mum was not suprised to hear bangs and crashes from my room as I fell over the bloody thing. What she was suprised to see however was a drunken me sitting over the corner pocket, convinced I was in the toilet, having an enormous slash all over the baize.
(, Sat 25 Jun 2011, 21:30, Reply)
I had clearly seen too many Joan Collins soft porn yarns when I lost my virginity
so no-one told me anything about the foreplay, extended or otherwise, needed to ease penetration in a sauna's (unheated) splash-pool. How could we know what might feel wrong?...This was erotic, just like Oliver Tobias on a pool swing. But we both persisted and, cold, think it better to take things to the only double bed i.e. Muvver's and Farva's. But what awful timing to find that her period had started in flagrante, to much great apologies on her part and some disappointment on mine. A Monastic education in me and a Convent education in her had let us get this far but "The Curse" had instilled in us both a latent fear of sex being sinful and forbidden. Well....perhaps more in her as in retrospect I was hardly considerate of anything.
Of course, by now you've no doubt guessed that the Benedictine Monks and Nuns of St Augustine would have been chuckling away to note that we would both stay fearful of the whole process for years to come. She, because it was such a short period and must have been a sign of sin, me because there's nothing like a young and fully engorged penis for pumping out large amounts of blood onto your parents divan when your foreskin has ripped back from your glans.
Clearly hasn't scarred me though....as 'twere.
(, Sat 25 Jun 2011, 20:25, 1 reply)
first impressions
moving into my new flat was a very tiring business. very tiring indeed. after a day of moving furniture, packing and unpacking boxes and rearranging stuff, i decided a good night's sleep was called for.
waking up the next morning, i realised several things: i was on the ground floor. my bedroom looked out onto the communal garden. there were children playing in said garden. i'd thrown the blankets off during the night. i was very naked. i'd also been far too tired to put the curtains up.
as the fresh morning sunlight streamed in upon my naked form, i'm pretty sure i blushed from the toes up.
trying to climb under your own mattress to avoid the gaze of your neighbours' kids is not a good idea, especially when it causes you to fall off the bed and land on your arse, letting the outside world get a good look at your bits.
(, Sat 25 Jun 2011, 20:14, 14 replies)
Paranoia (not a sex story)
Once got myself into a right state, having smoked too much pungent greenery I found myself having a mild anxiety attack whilst minding my Auntie's house.

The house was in the middle of nowhere, the weather was awful, I kept hearing strange sounds and my Auntie's big dog get growling at things and suddenly barking, which further jolted my fear.

I eventually got to sleep but was rudely awoken by a bedroom poster which had peeled off the wall and landed on my face.

That is all.
(, Sat 25 Jun 2011, 19:52, 6 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1