Creepy Kitty
The house I grew up in was really lovely old Victorian semi (fnar!). It was a gorgeous house but could be exceptionally creepy. On an evening the floorboards would relax so it would sound like someone was walking around upstairs, even if there was no one else in the house. We had huge bay windows overlooking the garden so as soon as it got dark you had to shut the curtains otherwise it just felt like you were in a fishbowl for all the monsters in the garden to look at.. Apparently we even had a ghost but my mother chose not to tell anyone about the little girl who had died of meningitis in the house in the 1970’s until the ghost decided to attack my brother ( I’ll save that for another QOTW).

One night I’m enjoying a bit of home alone time. I must have been about 12 or 13, my parents had gone out for the evening, my brother was at work so I’m making the most of my time by slobbing on the sofa and watching something inappropriate on TV. My old cat was curled up sound asleep on my lap, deeply relaxed.
All of a sudden he looks up and stares at a spot about a foot above my head behind me, his heckles up and his pupils massive (Anyone who has cats knows the look, it means they are terrified or about to rip your throat out). The sofa wasn’t up against a wall but kind of in the middle of the room so it was quite plausible that there could be something behind me.
He’s proper freaked and won’t stop staring. This completely creeps me out to the point that I daren’t actually look around, I could only sit there frozen in fear waiting for some unheard and unseen attacker to get me. Then just as sudden as it started he’s back to normal and having a bit of a wash.
I reckon the feline bugger did it on purpose, only cats can stare in that wide eyed big pupil way. Still, I had to hot foot it to bed and sleep with the lights on that night.


On an unrelated note does anyone else find Marty Pellow creepy? He looks like a rapist.
(CarryOnKay, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:50, 9 replies)

70's Seance ruins Dinner
To this day my mum and dad both swear this actually happened:

In the early 70's, and at my Godparents house for some drink and dinner - my parents and G-parents proceeded to enjoy a little light hearted Seancery to break up the evening. It all started innocently enough. The usual 'yes' and 'no' responses. Then things started to liven up a little when the board then came out with 'Oven. On' - to which the smell of burning roast chicken began wafting through to the dining room informing my Godmother that she had indeed left the oven on for too long, and the chicken was infact burnt and unedible.
Apparently, it then started to mention my Godfathers brother who had indeed passed away a few years previous, which proved upsettling news for him to the extent he then shouted out "Bollocks to this! The only Spirits I believe in are here in this glass!", and it was at that point apparently that one of the champagne glasses on the table then shot forwards off the table, shattering upon impact when it hit the wall.
I think it was at this point that spines began to tingle somewhat, and in true theatrical manner my mum shouts out "Enoughs enough now. Prove yourself!" to which the ouija board simply spelt out -

'Look. Behind. The Curtain.'

Everyone freaked out and ran from the room slamming the door behind them.
The facts are a little vague, as I always loved this story as a kid. It plays out like a decent horror movie which knows when to end itself without the need of some shit twist in the final act.
I'll never know if this *really* did happen or not, all I know is that both parents (now divorced) both swear that this *did* indeed happen - and in my head I'd like to keep it that way.
(CjR Mix, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:46, 10 replies)

There's a ghosty in my flat!
Well, I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts, but there’s most definitely something there. I’ve lived in my flat for almost 7 years and for the first 3 or 4 there would be a tapping on something or another. I’d wander round all perturbed trying to find the source of the tapping and even when I was looking directly at what, I logically thought, was being tapped, I couldn’t see anything. I would never feel alone in there, I always felt like there was something next to me or having a nosy around. One day I was in a mard, and self consciously told it to go away and leave me alone. And it did! A few weeks later I felt guilty. It wasn’t harming anyone, it wasn’t extreme or anything so I told it that it could come back if it wanted to. And it did! I’m not quite sure why I did this; I’m not a crazy ghost lady, honest.

The last couple of years have been a bit strange. There were a few months where I’d feel something touching me. The first time freaked the fuck out of me. I was sitting on the sofa minding my own business and watching telly when I felt a cold, very very cold, solid finger touch me. It stroked me from my neck just below my ear, across my cheek to just below my eye. There was nearly poo everywhere that night. The second time was like a cold pocket of air blowing though my legs. Through as in through flesh and bone, not in between the two legs. There was no wind that night, everything was shut; I looked everywhere and there was nowhere for a breeze to come from. There were other ‘touchings’ over the next few months, it especially liked my hair, but they stopped. Now its things going missing and re-appearing. I’ve got a pile of beach stones arranged artily on top of my TV. One day the top one fell off and disappeared under the TV unit. I kept reminding myself to retrieve it but always forgot. 3 days later, the stone that fell was back perched on top of its friends. I shat breeze blocks after that episode, I tell you. There was the DVD incident too. I pulled a DVD down as I was planning to watch it one evening that week. When I finally sat down to watch it, it had gone. It re-appeared 6 days later in the bathroom cabinet. Mischievous little paranormal bugger.
(Beacon, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:34, 8 replies)

As I was passing on the stair
I met a man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away.

*shudder*
(GirlOfTheWorld, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:32, 3 replies)

The surname 'Sloan'.
I'm sure there was a film with a Mr Sloan in it, can't remember which.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:26, 2 replies)

Junior school
If you look under the prefab stairs you'll see 2 red eyes staring back at you.....

True story
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 11:20, 3 replies)

I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink
Unless they had a problem.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 10:48, 5 replies)

Garden Invaders
I'd been out at the pub and came home around 12ish, spent a few hours on the PS2 and was settling into bed. I hear a noise, but where from? So I listened, but nothing came. Must have just been something in the street or a car passing up on the main road.

So I settle again when I hear the noise, this time for certain theres a rustling outside in the garden. That welling up of fear started to rise in my stomach. Im debating, do I wake my dad or investigate myself?

I opt for the peeking out of my window, just between the blinds. Everything is silent but I can barely hear a noise, just out of sight near the back door.

I watch and listen for about 10 minutes, heart thumping and utterly terrified. The noise continues and im straining my ears for voices, but cant make anything certain out. I opt for the cowardly choice and shine my maglight across the garden, hoping its light would deter who/whatever was out there.

A few minutes pass before I hear it again, and now I know I'm going to have to check this out. I tool myself up with a few darts and my junior baseball bat and creep downstairs. The back door led to an old conservatory, which then led to outside, but such was the angle of the doors I couldnt see the door itself. Was there anyone trying to get in, no idea but I'd came too far to not at least look.

The slow approach had failed, I flicked the keys in the lock and threw the door open. Total silence. The back door is closed but I hear the noise and look out to my mams new wind chime.

Fucks sake
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 10:44, 2 replies)

"The Wiggles" on kids TV
Deeply creepy.
There's no way I'd leave my kids with them.
(GingerIrishTosser isn't dead yet., Tue 12 Apr 2011, 10:16, 3 replies)

I'm not sure if this is creepy, as it felt kind of good (reassuring), but it is a bit after-life'y, should such a thing exist.
I have a place in Cyprus with a field in front, it was one year since my Dad passed away; he got stung by a bee in the field and it bought on a heart attack.

was in cyprus with my ma', cousin, Dad's brother and a family friend; to mark the anerversary. On the day of it, I was feeling really down about the whole thing, completely gutted, I just wanted to be left alone. So I took my camera and went for a walk around the fields and hills and decide to be left by myself.

I then heard my uncle shout my name "Pauly, Dinner's ready", and I shout out I'll be there in a minute. I turn around to see in one of these pushes some Humming Bird Bee things, there must have been about 10 of them. They're very rare and hard to notice. I spend about 30 minutes there snapping away, trying to get the right shot... "Pauly, hurry up, Dinner's ready".... "In a minute". I hear my uncle a few times.

Eventually they go away and I go back to the villa to find Uncle has been asleep on the couch for the last couple of hours, he hadn't called my name once. He's the only one with a voice I might have mistaken for my Dads, but it wasn't him shouting out for me.

It's probably the way my head was thinking, being in the place I was at the time, that there was nothing there, but it really reassured me and made me feel not so bad... but I did hear the voice enough for me to shout out a reply.
( G/PP 💩💩💩💩💩&#128, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:54, 5 replies)

In our living-room
we have thin light coloured curtains. Which are great because when it's sunny you can shut them to stop the sun shining on the telly, but the room is still light enough to read in. The downside is that there is a street light at the bottom of the back garden.

When I'm last to go to bed, I make sure the doors are locked and turn off the lights. When I do, the shadow of the glazing falls on to the curtain. Still having the same imagination as when I was 6, it creeps me out when I turn that light off, for I fear I may see the shadow of an intruder, murderer or Michael Myers from Halloween. So I avoid looking when I turn the light out, because if you ask any 6 year old, they will tell you that if they can't see the monster it doesn't exist.

Last night I forgot and was looking that way when I turned the light out. There was a shadow about 18 inches high. Someone or something was standing maybe a few feet back from the window and I could see the shoulders and the head. Something wearing what appeared to a cloak. The first thing that entered my mind was this fucking picture, which terrified me as a kid.

www.ufoevolution.com/misc/8newbychurchmonk.jpg

I felt my hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end, my heart began pounding and my bollocks climbed up inside me and hid. There was not a chance I was going to stride over and throw the curtains open to look. Or even creep over and peek through one side of the curtain to check.

I bombed upstairs and practically fell into my bedroom. Mrs SLVA asked me what was wrong. I told her I'd tripped on the landing and she laughed at me. Gee, cheers. I casually wandered over to the window, put my head through the curtains and peered out into the garden. There was nothing there.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"I thought I heard a cat." I lied. I bravely opened the window and looked down. Still nothing. My mettle came back so I made an excuse about wanting a drink and went back downstairs. The shadow was still there, 'eep' was roughly my reaction.

I crept into the dining room and peeked through the curtain there. Nothing. 'Fuck it' I thought, and went back into the living-room and threw open the curtain.

A few feet from the window, in the corner of the garden was one of those 4 feet high tubular framed plastic covered shelf things that serve as a miniature greenhouse, though the plastic was missing. It used to be near the shed and I suspect that somebody's wife had moved it. Probably mine. On the top of this was a stack of plantpots, a trigger gun sprayer thing and some gardening gloves, all of which partly shrouded in half of an old bath towel.

I shut the curtains again, resolved to shift the bastard plantpots in the morning and went to bed. I elected not to tell my wife how much of a big girl's blouse I was being. After all, it's me that evicts spiders and shoos bees and moths out of the house.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:48, 3 replies)

About an hour ago...
I was walking to work along the river in the sunshine, happy in my Sufjan Stevens filled world. One of the many joggers which run along the Thames was coming towards me. I glanced at him, and he was nothing out of the ordinary - clad in lycra, late 20s/ early 30s chap. Not that bad looking if you are so inclined.

Then something bizarre happened. He glanced at me, and as he looked away started imitating a sexual act using his index and middle fingers and his tongue. It wasn't even subtle (although how can you be?), but he was really waggling and flailing his tongue around. Wouldn't be surprised if some dribble escaped too.

His facial expression didn't even change, and he didn't slow down. Just carried on jogging along.

I didn't even have time to register it until a few moments after, as it happended so quick. I mean did that really fucking happen?! And what does it meeeeeeeeean?!

Now i'm gay, and so it made me paranoid for some reason. I looked down at myself. Am I wearing my "I love my girlfriend" t shirt?* Nope. Did my flatmate scrawl "Lezza" on my forehead whilst I slept last night? Probably not. I mean, how does he know?? I have long hair AND I wear make up!!**

Or perhaps he's not taunting me about my sexual orientation, perhaps the male flirting has evolved from a smile and wave, to frantic gestures of simulated cunniligus.

Either way, it creeped me out and tainted the song which I was enjoying listening to. It was one of my favourites too. The bastard.


*No such t shirt exists in my wardrobe
**I jest, I jest
( awayfromthenumbers, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:35, 7 replies)

Not so much creepy
as shit-your-pants-scary.
I'm standing in the bathtub/shower of my 1 bedroom flat in East Perth circa 1996/97. Since the dingy old flat has no extractor fans anywhere - when you have a shower all the walls and ceiling get wet from condensation.
A big, fuckoff (dinner-plate) sized Hunstman spider loses her footing in the wet & lands directly on my noggin. I brush whatever it was that landed on my head into the tub and end up face 2 face something like this in the bottom of the bath-tub.
I was a bit stinky for a while after that....
EDIT: for the arachnophiles out there -I don't think I hurt her as she laid an egg cache a few weeks later.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:17, 16 replies)

omg i totally saw a ghost once
at least, i think it was a ghost.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:14, 3 replies)

People who like anime.
Just admit you're on the sex offenders register and have done with it rather than beating around the bush.

Oh, and Furries.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 9:13, 13 replies)

Another abotoir story
I once went to the Frey Bentos factory in Uruguay. (It's called that because it's in a town called Frey Bentos). It had been closed for years, but there was a woman who would do guided tours, and having nothing better to do, I went to see it.

It was very creepy. A lot of the old equipment was still there, including a lot of rusty hooks. I asked the woman how many cows had been slaughtered there, she said 'Oh, about 6 million'.

The one thing that really creeped me out was the walkway. Wrapped around the building was a wooden track, about 6 feet wide, gently spiralling all the way to the top of the building - about 5 floors. I asked what it was, she said 'Well, they made the cows walk up this, to the top floor. They would kill them up there, so then moving the carcasses would be easier, they just used gravity'.

I guess that was obvious, but it seems so brutally practical - making the doomed cows do a walk of death to save on energy costs.

They also had a display of deformed foetuses . . . 2 headed calves, 7 legged sheep etc, in big formaldehyde jars.

Wierd shit . . . !
(username failed moderation, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 8:52, 4 replies)

One from my headmaster
Many years ago, when I was still at junior school , we were having a history lesson with our headmaster, a thoroughly nice man called Mr. Harrison. Anyway we were talking about The "Three Oxford Martyrs" Latimer, Ridley and Cranmer :-
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxford_Martyrs
During the lesson he told us a rather creepy story. As a young man when was doing his National Service one job he had was in The Quartermasters Stores, i.e. the place where they issue new soldiers their uniforms, boots etc. He had to ask for their names,write it down, then someone else down the line gave out the stuff. Anyway he asked this particular chap for his name and he replied "Latimer". So the next guy in the queue came up and thinking about his days as a history student he said to him half jokingly " Oh I suppose your name is Ridley is it!" to which the guy replied "Yes! Good god man how did you know that!" It turned out his name was actually Ridley. Mr. Harrison said it sent a shiver up his spine, what a weird coincidence!
(Mackeson_drinker, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 8:00, 1 reply)

About 10 years ago, a mate of mine asked me if I wanted to go to a party at his friend Michael's house.
I didn't know why at the time, but a shiver went down my spine and I just got the feeling that I should decline the invitation.

That night was the last time I saw poor Stuart.
(TheAmazingMeatMan ™ can't sing, but he's got soul, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 6:52, 3 replies)

Ghost Train?
It all started pleasantly enough. A nice 1994 Summers evening, some proper soapbar hash and a Purple Ohm acid blotter, each.

My pal G and I then started to play Sensible Soccer and listen to NEU!. While I was beginning to soar, he was beginning a whiney freak out episode. He needed fresh orange juice and some pills. Asprin, paracetemol, brufen, whatever. He thought if he took something, it would make his mind work properly again. I wanted him to stop freaking out, and those walls did look a little closer than the last time I looked. So, we had to leave the womb, my room, with all its gifts, music and safety and venture to the fucking BP garage.

Unsteadily, we leave, giggling and loping our way towards the dispensary of sanity.

After an uneventful journey, despite the notorious neighbour, we arrive at. Our destination. An often robbed petrol station in Port Glasgow. I, do not have the composure to enter, and mix with real people. I instead giggle through the window at G, who, clutching his Tropicana, asks for Asprins, or whatever. He can see me pishing myself laughing and is beginning to lose it himself. In an instant he is outside, reality bringers, in hand.

We sit on some stairs and breathe a sigh a relief, and watch the grass, when all of a sudden a white plastic bag blows towards us. I think nothing of it, but G jumps up in terror, and goes to run. He thought the bag was a Pit Bull Terrier. The stupid cunt.

We sit in various swingparks and don't even smoke the packed joint I have rolled and have placed in a TDK tape case. In the final park we are sitting and in a fit of mild paranoia, I hide the case over in some long grass, as we sit on the tyre swings.

We decide to head back to mine and begin the mile or so journey. I suggest we cut through the graveyard, which is much quiter and peaceful than tramping the horrible streets. To acces it, we had to walk up a steep, tree lined roadway. Very, very dark, and the overhanging trees gave the impression of being in a tunnel, with the exit, as such, at the top of the hill. About 2/3 of the way up I see 4 or 5 figures flit silently across the top of the hill. I stop and simply start walking back down the hill, suggesting quietly that G follows.

In all the years of using the graveyard as a shortcut, I have never seen a single soul. So, tonight of all nights was a major freak out. This diversion meant we had to walk along the main road, past the train station etc. The chances of running into real trouble and fear was greatly increased.

As we got back down to the main I could smell burning. A fire perhaps, a housefire? Not sure. As we walk along beside the railway the smell gets stronger. We begin to draw level with the train station, Woodhall, actually. A grimmer station you couldn't imagine. Flanked by run down housing, infamous schemes and general blossoming misery, I see a train in the station.

Weird, its too late for trains, it's 2am. There are no lights on onboard the train. The windows are smashed, it is smoking, it has been on fire. And what are all those holes all along the side of it. We keep walking.

There is nobody about, at all. No Police, no train guys, no, fucking, body, at, all. My mind is racing. Have we somehow entered a Philip K Dick style 'paused' reality. What happened here. It looks as if the train had been strafed by a machine gun, smoke still issued from the broken windows. What the fuck happened? Not a sound. Total silence. Nobody, not even a car to be seen. The silence and foreboding shadowy violence that the train exuded freaked me out

Our minds were racing, as were our legs. We arrived back at mine in quiet shock. As we were P.I (Pre Internet), we could only speculate as to what caused this. Was it a ghost train? Had it been shot to pieces. Was it even real?

Fuck knows, we had no answers...or spliff, I left it in the grass. Fortunately I had some more, but the annoyance of losing the spliff, the flitting characters at the graveyard, the inexplible ruined and silent train and the Ohms and more or less scrambled my brains. It was freaky, creepy and unexplained. A real life, mystery.

Sleep arrived and so did the next day. I raced down first thing in the afternoon for a local paper. The mystery was solved. A Glasgow bound train has stopped at Woodhall and some bored locals threw paving slabs off the station bridge onto the overhead lines. This caused the whole line to become inoperable. The train was stranded at a real life Wild West station, namely Woodhall. The slab throwing locals then decided to run through the train robbing people and setting it on fire. They then picked up stones from the railway tracks and pelted the train, smashing windows and causing the machine gun fire style holes.

The passengers were ferried to safety and the perpetrators ran up into, the cemetery. Yes, the shadowy figures we saw must have been the modern day highwaymen, coming back to look down the hill at the train, just to see what was happening. An explanation was mine, and I felt so relieved. Nothing like a cleansing acid comedown and solving a mystery to freshen the mind.

It still stands as one of the most surreal and unsettling experiences of my life. The fact I was on acid seemed to fit perfectly with the whole script. Truly bizarre.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 3:01, 1 reply)

The story 2 posts below reminded me of my Dad's honeymoon
So my Dad and step-mum get married and go away for a long weekend in the south of France in a kind of old guest house in a nice place in the country (not sure where).

Anyhoo, the first night my Dad tells me, he heard wine glasses 'tinkling' downstairs as they tried to get to sleep. My Dad also woke up with a strange feeling that someone was in the house. In the morning he thought nothing of it, and enjoyed a day out to later return to the house.

The second night they're in bed and again my Dad hears footsteps, things being 'flicked' and other unusual noises, which keeps him awake and restless, but being the good man he is, he doesn't wake up my Step-Mum. The third night again my Dad gets the feeling that someone is in the house and hears objects being lightly touched. At this point he's too scared to go and take a piss (he's 50 years old) as that would mean going downstairs into the darkness, which he wasn't willing to do.

Anyway they finally leave and he doesn't say anything until they get on the road and my Dad finally tells her about the noises, and she replies 'Good god, i heard them too, I just assumed you were fast asleep and I didn't want to wake you up.' , but the worst bit was she kept having a dream or a feeling that somebody had hanged themselves in the very room they slept in, but felt too silly to mention it to my Dad, especially on the honey moon.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 2:33, Reply)

Back when I was at primary school
There was an abandoned abbatoir right next to our playground. It was an old, square grey building, with just a fence separating it and the playground. You could see right into it too, there were huge hooks hanging from chains, red paint spattered on the walls, and a huge freezer where all the meat was kept. Could you think of a worse place to build a bloody school?!

It makes me all shuddery to think if it.
( Major Turd for tonight only, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 2:27, 9 replies)

Crooked House
Me and the ex-Mrs Give it six weeks went to spend a bank holiday weekend at the house that her Dad rented in Wilmslow, which he normally used while he worked there during the week before returning to Sussex for the weekend. It was a fairly non-descript sort of place but I have to say that on arriving it did have what can be best described as a 'bit of an atmosphere'. Now, I'm not into any cosmic crap but this place just felt nasty - I really wasn't happy being there.

All was fine on Friday night but Saturday night marked a bit of a turning point. I'd stayed up late to watch a film while the missus had gone to bed. When the film finished I turned off the TV with the remote control and stood up so as to make my way to bed. At that point someone or something 'shushed' me really loud in my right ear. Bearing in mind I was completely alone in the room I just froze to the spot in a state of complete incomprehension for at least a minute. Once I got over the shock I made my way up to bed in a rather shaken state and got my head down as best I could. The next morning I obviously didn't say anything to the missus about my other-wordly experience as, firstly, I thought I might have been mistaken and, secondly, I didn't want her to think I was a complete mental.

However, the weirdness continued. As we were heading home at about lunchtime on Sunday I brought the car round from the car park at the back and waited for the missus to lock the house up and drop the keys through the letterbox. As she got in the car she suddenly turned back towards the house in a rather shocked manner. "What's up?" I enquired. "The letterbox just opened and shut on its own" she replied. "Oh, that must have just been the letterbox shutting after you dropped the keys through," I reasoned. "No," she replied, "The letterbox shut when I dropped the keys through. It just opened and shut again on its own!" At this point I told her what had happened to me the night before and we drove the three hours home in a creeped-out silence and never spoke of it again
(give it six weeks and it might clear up would like to butter your muffin, Tue 12 Apr 2011, 1:53, 1 reply)

Going to bed
And seeing a fuck off massive spider, the sort that you can hear running across the blown vinyl. So you go get something to catch it in so it can be evicted but when you come back with a beaker and a CD case, it's disappeared. So now you have to sleep in that room knowing that you have to share it with a big arachnid that could well spend the night making a web between your shoulder and your ear.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 23:50, 8 replies)

Working at the hospital
One night, a man passed away in a room at the end of the hall. We did the usual wash up and toe tags and left him for the night morgue. After he was taken away, the call light kept coming on. We would go down, turn it off, look around: no one there. It was completely creeping us out, so after the umpteenth time, Jaye stomped down to rip it out of the wall and silence the alarm.

About 5am, it went on again and we drew straws to go down and check it out. The nurse who went down said it had been plugged back in. We had been all together all night, so by mutual unspoken consensus, we ignored it.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 23:45, 2 replies)

Remember this one?
creepy but kinda cute aswell
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dpzhMMFk5U&feature=related
(fifilaqua did a woopsie i the corner on, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 23:43, Reply)

Creepiest thing
I ever heard?
That debut single by Radiohead.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 23:23, 3 replies)

Tapeworms
Bastard things freak me out, I had to disect one at school, from a dog - it was huge. It's the thought of when they die you are required to pull the remnants out of your arse. I just googled the fuckers but only got so far before getting a bit vomity.

EDIT - I just had to do it, regretting it mightily.

Fuck me backwards - www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/24078/

Not good, NSFW as it's icky.
(wimbley is feeling hungover, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 22:55, 8 replies)

A creepy Fred West-related coincidence, just now, ooer!!
I was reading a book earlier about the Wests' horrible crimes. Just after I read about them being interviewed by the police about the disappearance of little Charmaine West, I had to go out.

To my surprise, there was a little note under one of the winscreen wipers on my car. It was a permission slip for a child to attend an after-school dance group. On the plain side someone had drawn a heart and written 'HI U OK'.

This was puzzling enough, but then I noticed that the child's name was Charmaine...
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 21:49, Reply)

Would you like sugar with that?
Now I know some of you will find my lack of morals creepy, and others will simply put this tale into the category of utter fantasy because their Mrs is a fat frigid monsterpig and since it hasn't happened to them, it simply can't happen to anyone else. However, I'm a bit of an alleycat, I enjoy a liberated sex life, thanks to this here Interweb thang, and good old Swingers clubs.

Well, a couple of years ago, I met a really nice couple in a club (Ceasars in Balsall Common, IIRC, now sadly demolished), round about my own age (late 30s-early 40s) and it was obvious the wife found me agreeable. Now this wasn't one of those occasions where I was gagging to ball ANYTHING, I was enjoying their company so was happy not to rush things, to sit and have a drink and chat, like any normal person would do, and see how things panned out. I found the couple to be witty and down-to-earth, ordinary folk, no glaringly obvious character defects, just another long-married couple looking to spice up their sex life with a bit of something extra, and who had actually taken the step to get out and put it into reality.

They'd never done anything like this before, so I refrained from flopping my cock out, we exchanged numbers and I left it up to them to call if they fancied taking it further, not sure whether they'd make that last little jump into the world of Swinging.

To my surprise, and delight, I began to get texts to arrange a meet, and finally settled on going to their house the following weekend when they had packed their sons, who were aged around 10 and 12, off to Grandma's house for the night. They lived in an up-market part of a nearby town, I was really looking forward to this meet, they were my kind of people, I felt like I'd known them years.

We had a few drinks, and progressed on to the bedroom, blah blah, we were having a great time. Then, in one fell swoop, things began to fall apart.
Now in my time I've veered away from licking stinking maws that were once minges, I've focussed on other things than a woman's third nipple, I can grit my teeth and carry on regardless and not let it spoil anyone's enjoyment of the evening by causing a fuss. However, this occasion was beyond anything I've faced before or since:

The woman squirted my face with tit milk.

Jesus, I can feel my tea rising just typing it, I was stunned. "Open your mouth" she said.
"It's great" her hubby chimed in.
NO. FUCKING. WAY. My raging boner subsided into its normal miniscule acorn size. And then inverted for good measure. My night was finished there and then, several beers over the limit to drive home. What a disaster.

The thing is, if she'd have been nursing, I could live with that, even though I've no desire to taste her milk, that's between her and her baby. Nothing wrong with tit milk, obviously, it's natural.

However, this woman had had her last baby 10 years previously.

We did later discuss things (me with head in my hands), and she had no idea why she'd started expressing milk after so long, she wasn't one of those women who still had her kids clamped to her tit when they were at Middle School, but her hubby loved it, so she had encouraged it (I don't know how, I feel queasy trying to recall the detail).

One of their little games was for her to squirt him from across the room, whilst he tried to catch it in his mouth - anyone remember that dog on "That's Life!" that used to catch the soda syphon blast? Brrrrr, horrible!

Happily, we squared things up later on, she agreed not to squirt me with tit milk, and all was well, I still visit them from time to time. They both still think it was hilarious looking back, but I think my cock has never quite got as hard for her as it had been before the first squirt, regardless of how much fun we're having.

Oh, and I NEVER let them make me a cup of tea, just in case.
(Rsoles, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 21:39, 2 replies)

A while back I travelled from Ethiopia to Kenya
while near the border I was camping in a one man tent next to my motorcycle. I was about 50m or so off the road, hidden away where no one could see me. That night I went to bed nice and early when I woke suddenly up to gravel/stones crunching softly outside the tent. Then I heard sniffing outside the tent. From all around.

After a short while I heard what initially sounded like fairly sinister laughter, it was a group of hyenas checking me out. They took their time and stayed ages. I lay there all fucking night, holding my trusty swiss army knife and waiting for the attack that never came.

And I got eaten alive by mosi's, pricks.
( zulu eh?, Mon 11 Apr 2011, 21:01, 6 replies)