Sleepwalking
Dear me, I could fill 10 pages by myself.

Usually drink-related natch.

Around 15 years ago, when imbibed I would tend to sleepwalk, usually (but not always) when looking for the bog. I was at my worst during the period I shared a house with 2 mates.

Amongst other incidents, I climbed into bed with a lad who was staying downstairs on a camp bed, saying I needed to share with him as "The authorities had kicked me out of my bed". The reason for this eviction by officialdom remained a mystery.

But the crowning glory was returning home after yet another unsuccessful night out on the pull to retire to my wanking pit for another night's drink-induced slumber.

One of my housemates HAD pulled though (well he had met her the previous week, this was date 3, but she had come back to the house for the 1st ever time) and he was happily ensconced in the adjacent bedroom to mine.

An hour or so passes & it's time for Worthless to go walkies. I stumbled out of my bedroom door & instead of carrying on straight ahead, I turned left, opened the door and turned on the light.

The happy couple were greeted with the sight of me, a pair of socks, an inane drunken grin & f**k all else.

Well, except my piss-hard-on.

My housemate shouted at me once or twice & eventually turned me round & directed me to the bog, before returning to his new squeeze to explain.

To her eternal credit, she didn't flee, as she may have been entitled to do, they've got two kids now.

No, she laughed like a f**king drain.

Probably because I've got a kid's cock.

*Apologies for socks*
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 21:05, 2 replies)

Well, give it back.
The kid needs it more than you do.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:06, closed)

Answer
= Win.
(Ethelred is watching cheese grow, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 12:29, closed)