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)
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)
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It's what Sunday Mornings are for...
Way back in the pre-sprog days, we could actually lie around in bed as long as we liked on a Sunday morning. Maybe read the paper, eat croissants, shag ourselves senseless, whatever we felt like. Well, one such Sunday it was a warm sunny day, and the windows were thrown open to let the balmy air in.
We became aware of certain familiar, rhythmic sounds coming from the couple in the flat above. Then, similar noises from the couple in the basement. Clearly, they also had their windows open, and were enjoying a similarly lazy and bed-oriented Sunday.
What the hell, we thought, and tossed the papers aside to join in the Sunday Shagfest.
Some time later, all was finally quiet from the three flats. We'd managed a six-way synchronised crescendo, though how much was comedy faking will remain forever unknown: clearly they could hear us as much as we could hear them. I wandered over to the window to have a look out at the day. A glorious, sun-drenched day it was, too.
A perfect day, in fact, for the garden party that the next-door neighbours were having...
( , Wed 29 Jun 2011, 9:53, 7 replies)
Way back in the pre-sprog days, we could actually lie around in bed as long as we liked on a Sunday morning. Maybe read the paper, eat croissants, shag ourselves senseless, whatever we felt like. Well, one such Sunday it was a warm sunny day, and the windows were thrown open to let the balmy air in.
We became aware of certain familiar, rhythmic sounds coming from the couple in the flat above. Then, similar noises from the couple in the basement. Clearly, they also had their windows open, and were enjoying a similarly lazy and bed-oriented Sunday.
What the hell, we thought, and tossed the papers aside to join in the Sunday Shagfest.
Some time later, all was finally quiet from the three flats. We'd managed a six-way synchronised crescendo, though how much was comedy faking will remain forever unknown: clearly they could hear us as much as we could hear them. I wandered over to the window to have a look out at the day. A glorious, sun-drenched day it was, too.
A perfect day, in fact, for the garden party that the next-door neighbours were having...
( , Wed 29 Jun 2011, 9:53, 7 replies)
« Go Back