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As a teenager I was obsessed by my piano teacher - I hated playing the piano, but carried on because she was so lovely. OK, it was because she used to wear very plunging necklines.
I even stopped practicing because the worse I was, the more she'd sit at the piano to show me how to play a piece and I could stand behind her and look down her top.
Aaaaargh. Confess your own crushes so I don't look like a breast-obssessed stalker.
( , Thu 28 Sep 2006, 10:42)
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When my foot slipped off the pedals of my 5-speed whilst standing up in the saddle and my small chap became intimately aquainted with my crossbar.
Despite concerns from a couple of elderly ladies as to why the tears, pained expression and comedy walk, I kept silent, was extremely brave and didn't divulge the nature of my injuries.
Was I wrong to be strangely aroused by the sight of their bloomers ?
The threat of St John's ambulance was enough though to make me scurry off into the distance.
( , Thu 28 Sep 2006, 14:25, Reply)
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