Cringe!Chickenlady winces, "I told a Hugh Grant/Divine Brown joke to my dad, pretending that Ms Brown was chewing gum so she'd be more American. Instead I just appeared to be still giving the blow-job. Even as I'm writing this I'm cringing inside."
Tell us your cringeworthy stories of embarrassment. Go on, you're amongst friends here...
(
chthonic, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 18:58)
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Caught red handedA lot of the stories here seem to have links with onanism, which just so happened to be one of my favourite hobbies when I was a teen. In fact I was, until recently, on average, cracking one off every day due to a disturbingly high sex drive or possible addiction. I think it may be the former as my ladyfriend has banned me from masturbating and it hasn't really affected me too much as long as she's letting me get regular poon.
Hang on, that may well be another embarrasing moment just there...
Anyway, on to the real story. Picture a 10 yr old manbearpig on a trip to the Isle of Skye with two of his cousins and his uncle. A couple of nights previous, said cousins thought it would be hilarious to give their little relative some of the free-flowing booze at another family member's 21st birthday party, attended by my vast extended family. Cue MBP getting rather drunk on very little, skipping round the garden singing "I'm a little teapot" in alternating soprano/baritone due to an early puberty, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the lawn. I don't remember this, as I think I blocked it out although it's regaled to me by family members from time to time.
Aaah, puberty, that bastard concoction of hormones, spots and hair. I hit it early, starting sprouting hair at the age of 9. Luckily my loving parents went out and bought books and refused to talk about it, meaning I got to read all about what was happening to me. This is where I learnt about masturbation. I had once called a naughty phone line when I was 7, having seen adverts in the back of a Sunday Sport. At the urging of the woman/recording on the other end, I vigourously rubbed my cock. Through my jeans. In a circular motion. Till I got mild friction burn on my palm. And MaMBP came home, spying me on the phone. Then making me say who I was calling. Then getting the paper which I had hidden under my matress and show her which line I had called. Oh, the shame...
But anyway, I digress. I had since then learnt how to masturbate properly and started enjoying it. So much that it was an almost daily occurence, urged on by reassurances in books that it was perfectly natural to touch yourself. Which brings us back to the trip.
We were staying on a campsite, and had been out fishing, running about, eating fish & chips and watching a swan eat up a massive wad of phlegm that cousin John had hocked up in to the harbour. We had retired back to the tents, and I was sharing with Robbie. All was fine until the morning, where I had woken up bright and early. "Hmm...." thinks I, "perhaps I can get away with a quick shuffle?"
"Robbie.... Robbie.... Are you awake?...." No response! Get in! So I start to play with myself, teasing my cock into an erect state. Sure enough, about a minute later and I'm trying to wank out a bollock, completely oblivious to the very loud rustling of nylon and the shaking of the tent. All of a sudden, "CAUGHT YOU! YOU DIRTY LITTLE BOY!!!!" bursts forth from the apparently-not-sleeping Robbie. "nonononononononononononoooooooo....." says I under my breath, "errrrrrrr..... I was shivering because it's so cold" conveniently forgetting the little beads of sweat running down my forehead towards my ears.
After what seemed like an eternity of pleading and begging, he agreed to not say anything to my uncle or other cousin; the kind generous soul had obviously been in a similar situation and understood the wanker's shame.
So fast forward on to the next night, where Robbie has insisted that it's John's turn to share a tent with MBP. All protocol has been observed, no self-love in the evening and we both succumb to the slumber only achievable in the fresh, salty air of the seaside. And then I wake up early...
"John... John.... Are you awake?" Not wishing to succumb to the previous morning's trap, I give him a little nudge just to make sure. No response - we have the all-clear! Fwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwapfwap, there's little MBP doing his best impression of a chinese helicopter pilot, only to be interrupted by "OI, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?!? ROBBIE TOLD ME TO KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR THIS! GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THE SLEEPING BAG NOW!". Much embarrased and shameful pleading later, promises of mars bars and a can of coke later, the bugger promises to not tell a soul.
Later that day we make our way back to Aberdeen, Led Zepplin blasting out from the tape player, cousin Robbie chipping in with the musical poodle scene from The Young Ones and cousin John quoting from the Viz magazine he is reading. I'm sat in the back of the car, trying to make myself as small as possible just in case anything about my morning activities come out. Sure enough, a little later on there is a lull in conversation. I can sense that, in the same way rats and snakes can sense a natural disaster, Something Very Bad is about to happen.
J "Guess what we caught MBP doing in mornings!"
R "He was wanking!!!"
J "We caught him red-handed!
Cue coughing, spluttering and laughing all at the same time from my uncle. He very quickly regained composure and uttered, nay boomingly announced, the words that have forever burnt themselves in to my soul;
"I bet his hand wasn't the only thing that was red!", much to the glee of my sadistic cousins.
Now Volvos may well be big cars, especially the estates, but there's nowhere big enough to hide when you're 10 years old and your wanking japeries have just been announced to the car when you have another two hours left to get back to the safety of your own bedroom.
As additional shame, my cousins have later caught me masturbating to the ladies of the Innovations catalogue and the back pages of Viz, with the grannies-in-bras and other smutty adverts. If you're lucky I might tell you about my night of viagra-based passion where they young lady in question buggered off shortly after I had necked the pill, leaving me with a terminator-esque cock that kept on coming back no matter what I did to it, and only the aforementioned back pages of Viz to aid in dripping the white-hot coconuts from the veiny palm tree of lust.
Length? Try two hours of merciless piss-taking from two teens and an adult who should definitely know better.
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:39, 11 replies)
trying to wank out a bollock:D
such an elegant turn of phrase.
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 4:57, closed)
Hornswoggledalso sounds like a rather natty term for it...
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 9:15, closed)
Whyhave you been banned from wanking?
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 5:14, closed)
Well....I'm currently in Japan, and in my time here have noticed two things.
a) Young ladies like their pubic hair over here. Now, I'm not talking a landing strip or small patch of curly V-shaped goodness. This is massive, Land-Before-Time untamed wilderness of thick, straight and bushy biff-fluff. The crowning moment came in a strip club with a university mate who's working out here; the young ladies did their strip, went around and then did a "bedroom scene" on a revolving stage. One young lady did the 'crab', where she leans back and only her feet and hands touch the ground while her back is off the floor. She rotated round, and the spotlights picked out her hair - it stood a full 2inches out from her minge, glinting in the harsh light. My friend and I collapsed into rioutus laughter at this point, much to the chagrin of dancer and punters alike.
b) Young ladies are not particularly inclined to swallow over here, and aren't all that keen on the cum-in-mouth/cum-on-face options either. Fair enough, but it's a turn-on for me so it counts as a small neg if she won't.
My young lady has had her hair all taken off with "lasers" (not at my bequest, she had it done well before we met) so I never have to worry about hair-in-teeth syndrome. She also loves to swallow so I have been told to "save it all" for her. She's just as filthy as me so I see it as a very small price to pay for quality time with a quality girl.
Although if it's a few days before we meet, I can have a couple of hours of "me time" and let it recharge. That's why I'm typing this one-handed.
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 5:38, closed)
wank out a bollock...haha classic. im stealing that
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 7:55, closed)
Stealing....My bollock??? Why in the good name of all that is good and wholesome testicular-based-product-producing self-abuse would you want to do that?
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 9:14, closed)
Clicky!1.. for "Wank out a Bollock".. blokes always look like they're being rough with their best mate...
2.. For those blue pills, in my case,the gentleman in question fell asleep/passed out five minutes after..Could I sleep? Could I do much in the flat he shared with his brother? I daren't take my buzzing bits home in a taxi cos I was scared I'd jump the driver.. Or get all sweaty and gasping at traffic lights.. I feel your pain, mate..
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 13:40, closed)
It reallyis terrible, isn't it. The slightest thing sets you off. I thought I'd be able to crack one off and then go to sleep, but any remotely dirty thoughts and *woof*, there it goes again.
Only thing I could do was to try and wank myself unconcious. What on earth did you do?
(, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 15:47, closed)
Click...but not for wanking out a love spud, for this:
"watching a swan eat up a massive wad of phlegm that cousin John had hocked up in to the harbour".
Cracked me up quicker than you cracked one out!
(, Sat 29 Nov 2008, 15:52, closed)
AthankingyouIt really was a magical moment that filled us all with glee. Swans are fussy buggers, so they are. Wouldn't eat chips but love the mucus.
(, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 15:51, closed)
I'm stealing..."dripping the white-hot coconuts from the veiny palm tree of lust."
Have a click.
(, Sun 30 Nov 2008, 18:00, closed)
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