Maybe over faked it
I was with a guy for a year in which time i had 'faked it' many times with him. Not always but very often and to the point where he thought he just had to look at me and i'd cum! All just to satisisfy his huge ego but now i'm with someone else who i really am having the best sex of my life with and the previous guy doesn't understand when i try to tell him how wonderful my sex life is now.


I don't have the heart to tell him....or have i just done that?!!!
(Pants on fire!, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 8:29, 6 replies)

I faked a happy relationship.
CAUTION: NOT-VERY-FUNNY CLOUD OF MELANCHOLY AHEAD.

Those who are familiar with my QOTW answers will know that I am disastrous at relationships. It's not that I can't get into them, it's the fact that they always seem to fall apart in hugely spectacular ways; from the woman who got her calendar muddled up and had another bloke turn up for her while I was still staying with her to 'open-minded' girl with whom I ended it after she suggested she would quite like to fuck me up the arse with a strap-on, all my relationships tend to fuck up in quite extraordinary fashion.

However, there is one that completely dwarfs all the others. One that fell apart so slowly and agonizingly that it almost dragged me down for good, and through it all, I faked to everyone - friends, family, the lot - that everything was completely OK.

The story is thus. It began, tragically, with my girlfriend of the time getting pregnant. It was unplanned, the pill hadn't worked, and we were teenagers and bricking it. My parents would have thrown me out and her father would have probably killed her and then me, and we didn't even know how to tell anyone about it let alone consider raising a child. As is the usual thing in these situations, an abortion was decided on. We lied to ourselves that it would be easy "in, out, problem solved, right?". It's never that simple, and it was the start of eight months of tears, blame and recriminations that came so very close to taking two people to the very end.

First, there was the lies to the families that we were "just going away for a few days for a holiday", when really we spent the entire time drinking ourselves into stupor and crying. Late nights of screaming and her calling me a murderer for letting her go through with it, even though I was inescapably 300 miles away at the time, and would have given anything to be there with her. Over the course of the next eight months, she veered wildly between taking photographs of herself wearing her aunt's engagement ring and telling all our friends I'd proposed to being taken to hospital after stabbing herself in the stomach in a bid to end it all, all under the cover of her father's work meaning he was away for weeks at a time. Meanwhile, I tore myself between desperately trying to keep her from hurting herself, trying to get her to get help and trying to drown my own guilt in a drinking problem which had become so serious it would eventually grow to cause me to fail my degree. Still we kept up the pretence of being a happy couple to everyone else, even though the facade must have been beginning to slip.

By the end, we had become a terrible shadow of what we were at the beginning. We had had a year of wonderful teenage romance, where the sun always shines and the days go on forever, but now I was in a tiny one-room flat, drinking from the moment I woke up until the moment I passed out again, and spending my waking hours desperately trying to 'save' a girl who by now had now become anorexic and was swinging violently between drinking and suicide, and still the only people who knew about any of this were us and her doctor - If they ever informed her dad then he didn't care, but I don't think they did.

She was cheating on me and I had long since stopped finding her physically attractive, but we would get together and either have sex or simply lay on the bed crying and wishing the whole sorry mess away. She went away for a few days to Slough and cheated on me again, and I found myself in my flat, having not eaten in days, drinking a bottle of whisky and trying to cut her name into my arm with a razor blade I'd stomped on specifically for the purpose.

Something - probably common sense, or survival instinct - grabbed me and, right then, I stopped pretending. I picked up the phone and spilled my guts out. I told my mother everything - the abortion, the drinking, everything. I wanted out, out of that place, out of that situation, out of that city, even. Within a month I was gone. I had failed my degree and was back living with my mother as I was a complete emotional wreck, but I was out. Just over 18 months later, with lots of counselling, some understanding and some great friends, I'm now the man you see before you. As far as I've heard through a few mutual friends, she's happy as well now, shacked up with a new bloke and having a kid by him, not making the same mistake twice. Some people are just mutually destructive together, and I hold no grudges and couldn't be more happy for her. I'm glad she made it out too.

The moral of this story is, if you are in trouble, don't fake like you aren't. Your friends, your family, your co-workers, all of them want to help you, and no good can come from not letting them. I very nearly became a victim of thinking I could fix everything by myself, and fuck me, I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

If you need help, for fuck's sake, tell someone.

Oh, and if you're reading this, honey, I'm so happy for you. I hope you've got all you ever wanted.
( Shegetz Chris Kamara's comedy moustache, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 5:55, 5 replies)

Randomers Post....
An open message to him, and my own story...

I was about 12 when I realised that I was bi, looking at my dads porn, and naked guys in changing rooms were both going to get me going.

But no way were my parents going to know that.
By their reckoning men who liked men were going to spend hell impaled on Satan's trident.. now there's a euphemism.

So slowly, over the nearly 40 yrs since then I've let certain people know, but I've only actually admitted it openly since my parents died.

So for 30 yrs I faked being totally straight, even to the longest term relationship I had.

Good luck Randomer, hope your life is easier than mine was sometimes.
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Tue 15 Jul 2008, 5:34, 2 replies)

The Big Lie
Now, I was quite a gullible child - I tended to believe everything adults told me. Things like 'If you pull a face and the wind changes, it could stay that way forever' or 'If you shave, the hair grows in quicker' (a piece of advice which led to an unfortunate incident involving a Gilette Mach 3 Razor and 'little Pavlov' - who briefly became a bit 'Brazilian').

I was so naive, I even believed in Santa Claus until the age of 12 - I could probably trace the loss of my innocence right back to that day I found out Santa wasn't real - the realisation that my parents could actually tell lies. The wool fell from my eyes, and, immediately, all their previous advice came under suspicion. So, drink and drugs were bad, were they? I made a mental note to try them as soon as possible.

However, even the great deception of Santa Claus paled into comparison beside my mother's favourite phrase to me as I was growing up - 'Lying will get you nowhere'

Lying will get you nowhere? Bullshit. Lying got me through every job interview I've ever had. If I told nothing but the truth, I would be unemployable.

"So, Mr Pavlov, what makes you want to work for our company?"
"Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck which company I work for, as long as I get a regular paycheck. After all, I enjoy a good drink, and dabble in illicit substances - I've got a lifestyle to fund."

"Where do you see yourself in five years time?"
"I don't usually think that far ahead. I haven't even decided what I'm doing next weekend. Though I doubt I'll still be here - as soon as a better paying job becomes avaliable, I am out of here!"

"Tell me about yourself"
"Well, I'm lazy, I lack motivation, I like to sleep in and tend to be late a lot. I'll find out how I can play the system, and I'll try to get away with doing as little actual work as possible."

"What are your positive qualities?"
"Well, I'm honest, I'm clean, I'll never get angry with customers or staff, I'm always polite, and I'll be able to hook up staff members with any illicit substance of their choice."

"Why do you want to leave your current job?"
"I'm bored of it - I usually last, at most, 6 months in a job before becoming bored and looking elsewhere. Customer service isn't exactly the most fulfilling of careers - it's something I'm only doing to earn money, until I figure out what I really want to do with my life."

If it wasn't for lying, I would have hurt the feelings of almost everyone I know at one time or another. Every relationship I've had would have been ruined within weeks. Questions like "Do you think Angelina Jolie's better looking than me?", "What did you think of my parents?" or "Do you like my new haircut?" demand to be lied to - to tell the truth would be insane.

I certainly won't tell my kids, "Lying will get you nowhere," because I'd be lying. I'd tell them the truth - a well-placed lie can often help you out, but only when used in moderation.

I make no apologies for length, girth, circumference or meat content.
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 1:57, 2 replies)

I'm watching you

(osmouk, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 1:30, 61 replies)

Crop Circles
Sometime back in '93, a load of crop circles appeared in a field very near to my house.




It took 6 of us all night to do them.

Full size pics and newspaper article here.
(coobeastie Used to Be in Evil Gazebo, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 1:24, Reply)

long time fake...
I have recently come to terms with the fact that I am a massive queer (not massive really, just a little podgy and rather shy about the whole thing)
Which has left me faking being straight to the majority of people I know for now for as many reasons as I feel I need to invent, however this isn’t the point.

While it was coming to terms with the semi-decision slash realization. I had to do some soul seeking, resulting in thinking about quite a few things, mostly things in my past due to my lack of precognitive ability.

Now even though I have always had my doubts about myself, and often beat myself emotionally up over these doubts, or just ignored them as most functioning members of society will, I never allowed them to surface for more than a few minutes at a time.

To achieve this masterful level of fakery I threw myself headfirst into relationships, amusingly (and possibly predictably) most of the girls were manly than I was,as i was constantly reminded by my friends whenever the girlfriend of the time wasn’t around, and i would happily agree with them

one of the aforementioned girlfriends once complained to me that all of her ex's became gay after dating her, maybe shes to blame.

I would engage in sexual activities with each girl, and I can honestly say that I have faked so I could stop as it did little for me, or more often then not just gave up once they felt they’d had their fill (or lack of). However these unfulfilling acts were enough to convince myself that I was a red blooded male and nothing less.

I would avoid looking at the cute guy over there, and even though I thought he was cute, I maintained that as long as I don’t see him, it doesn’t exist, ignorance is bliss.

Now it just amuses me how I managed to gloss over the cracks and lie to myself, even more amusing to me is how people gloss over the things they don’t care for or want to see, which has made faking being straight a walk in the park as regardless of how careless I get when I’m sloshed

for example kissing another guy in front of the majority of my friends at a club. Not a single one noticed (i am just a little proud of this daring feat given that being out isnt what i want just yet).

Where I was going with this I don’t know, however I can conclude faking is far too easy as we make it easy for ourselves.


All around the Mulberry Bush
The monkey chased the weasel
The monkey stopped to pull his... sock
Pop! goes the (b3ta) cherry.

Apologies for length, rambling, poor writing skill and being new
(randomer has a 20 sided die with your name on it, Tue 15 Jul 2008, 0:44, 5 replies)

admittance is the first step, now go for the second. get the help you need mate
i am. i go to my local priory next week. i feel the most violent urges at times, when i get ever so slightly annoyed. if someone shat on my bed i'd ask why, and be annoyed, yet i wouldnt kill them or anything, or even lose my rag. its the little things that get me. petty annoyances.

however if someone coughs without putting their hands over their mouth i want to stab them hard and eat their fucking face off. and just cut them open. i know this is wrong. i've been like this for months and i hate myself for it. but i am taking steps to avoid all that by seeking pshychiatric help asap. as i have lost friends through my temper.

you mate, need help. and its such a positive thing. i cant wait. i'm getting fixed, i'm gonna be thinking normally again in a while.

think of yourself, and get fixed mate. all the best

MAAAAAAAAAAN HUUUUUUUG x
(mr kyle he's a silly bastard, the one who posted before me, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 23:07, 2 replies)

I told everyone I had Munchausen Syndrome
but it was bullshit really.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 22:33, 1 reply)

the micromine wizard
ive told my fair share of bullshit to get ahead in the work arena. My second job as geologist i went for i found out the name of the mining software package the company was using, "micromine". I went through the manual and listed every technique in there saying I had experience with it. It was a very good position and i didnt think i stood much of a chance, but I got offered the job and they flew me up to the mine. on the first day of work i shit myself as everyone shook my hand as i was introduced as "the micromine wizard", and told me how desperate they were for my micromine skills. thing is, i'd never actually used the software at all or seen live on the screen.
luckily, they eased me in with induction programs so it took a couple of weeks before the dissappointing realisation that i was a complete novice sunk in to the senior staff, and they chose whether out of cost or of shame to keep me on and allow me to become just another run of the mill rock licker. end of the motherfucking story. (just practising my samuel l jackson)
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 22:05, 1 reply)

I was a 15 yr old female nudist...
About 4 years ago I had a conversation with a person quite high up in the British naturist organisation about the fact that there seemed to be very few teenagers coming into the movement.
She commented that you couldn't really blame them as people saw 'nudists' or 'naturist' and thought it meant 'sex maniac'.

So I decided that I'd fake a person, took some photo's from a Russian nudist site (with the same girl naked and clothed), and created a 'profile' for her on one of the less popular networking site.

Within hours she was being asked to be 'friends' with about five guys.
The next day it was 20.
By the end of the week there were over 300, and I was rejecting the guys that were blatently obvious about their intentions.
(As usual with these networking sites most that asked never communicated again.)

'She' was asked to remove her nudist pictures by the site management, despite the fact that some of the people contacting her had hardcore porn on their profile page.
Then she got an IM system with one of the big two companies, and my spare time was spent chatting.

This is where it got seriously weird.
One guy from 'oop north' was offering to leave his wife.
A Canadian was going to pay for 'her' to fly across to Paris for a couple of days, despite being 4 times 'her' age.
One bloke from about twenty miles from 'her' location, having had a conversation about what she could see from her window, sent a message one night to say he was on mobile internet in the park and asking if she could see him? (Her reply that she was at her uncles in Scotland didn't go down well.)

So what did I do with 'her'? Did I report the weirdo's?

Her parents found out what she was doing, and banned the net.
They sent a message to all her 'friends' saying that they would be reported if they ever attempted contact again.

And I've got one hell of a 'Nudist Babylon' type book....
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Mon 14 Jul 2008, 19:40, 6 replies)

I always fake...
being 1/4 asian or 1/4 black to make people ive just met very uncomftable

e.g friend of a friend "oh my god i walked past a paki today and he proper stunk"

me with a very serious look on my face
"well my dad's half asian so i'd prefer it if u dint talk about 'smelly paki's'"

this then results in a very awkward moment for recently introduced person and is generally followed by sincere apologies and explanations of how there not really racist and how they have lots of asian 'friends'

and then i just reveal it was a lie and go off on my own slightly politically incorrect rant

its a good laugh you should try it
the quarter asian thing
not the rant...
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 19:39, 10 replies)

The BBC
Meh...ok, they didn't quite fake it, but they have just got my hopes up unnecessarily.

Radio 4 were just discussing Margaret Thatcher, and whether or not she should receive a state funeral*. Having only turned the radio on halfway through this article, I assumed the old dragon had popped her clogs and was about to pour myself a pint of milk and sing "Ding, dong, the Witch is dead."

I was very disappointed to find out I'll have to wait a little longer.

*_{Not that I've got the energy to start a political debate, but I'd just like to say "Fuck, no!"}
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 18:03, 14 replies)

Not a funny one sorry
I have for the last few years prentended i am a happy go lucky guy who takes everything with a pinch of salt and nothing bothers me.

In fact i am not, i am a paranoid delusional fucker who cant cope with my childhood and losing my brother last september. I have a good job in a high pressure enviroment (sales) and before that was a chef (another high pressure enviroment.

I think im called a functioning alchoholic as i can go all day without a drink but then down copious amounts of vodka in the evening and wake up angry and the cycle starts again (nobody at work knows this).

I pretend to be happy and have an active social life but always hang out with my mash head friends, again pretending to be a happy party goer but like the clown, always crying inside.

I pretend i am the bees knees to the ladies and they like it but inside i am a child railing against the system and the broken dreams promised to a tv generation.

I see my folks still at war but trying to hide it from me and pretend we are one big happy family even though when ive poped back for the odd night they are not even sleeping in the same room.

I pretend i havnt got any children, but i have a boy in australia who i cant find and every birthday and christmas i die a little more inside.

I go to pubs and clubs with mates and "ave a laugh" but i dont really find the inaneness of it all funny i just want to smash things, i'm bored of it.

I would carry on but the drink is calling.
( Trollman, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:48, 12 replies)

I've applied for another job with Eurostar
and while everything I put in the application is true, in interview-ese I can't help feeling like a fraud and I'm sure I'm coming unstuck on Wednesday as a result.
( Maladicta, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:28, 7 replies)

Server specialists
Not my fakery, but at the last company I was at before me signing on they'd freelanced out to an "Internet Server Specialist" at £500 a day to set up their shiny new datacentre with 450Mbit fibre optic connection and 50 odd webservers.

The "specialist" had all this running behind a £50 Netgear DG834 'Home' router and took three weeks to set it up.

His CV read like Baron Von Munchausens.
(rescueranger, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:25, Reply)

The "lie book"
Anyone who has been on benefits in the last ten years will know of the "lie book".

For those of you who have not had this charming experience, each fortnight when you drag yourself out of bed early in the afternoon and cadge a lift to your local benefit office to sign on, you must, and I repeat MUST have with you your "lie book", or "jobseekers diary" to give it it's formal title.

It's not that all we lost ones who must sign on are lazy, sponging dole cadgers. Some of us do try dilligently to find work, carefully noting down each effort and it's outcome..... but I've found myself in limbo. I start college in about 6 weeks, and plan to restart my old self employed job on a smaller scale so as to work my way through..... however, I cannot start work until I receive my trading license. I'm therefore in a position of having to look for work whilst waiting for my work to begin.

So I should be free and clear of the lie book within the month, but until then I have to think of as many ways as possible to write "Read the paper - there were no jobs".
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:24, 3 replies)

Just remembered...
I have played for a number of top European football clubs winning trophies every season.

I am also responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, mostly children, and have thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.

*turns PS3 off*
(Shameless, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:21, 2 replies)

Feeding the Masses
After graduating with an arts degree in the mid 90s, the world was not exactly my oyster. I signed on, but it wasn't much fun. I decided I needed to work, if only to prevent me from killing my annoying stoner housemates.

The jobcentre directed me to a small, family-owned restaurant who had advertised for a kitchen assistant. I decided I could hack washing dishes and mopping floors. I'd seen other people do it. It didn't look too hard.

I arrived to be met by the wife half of the husband and wife who owned the place. She said her husband would interview me. So I sat waiting in the restaurant, quietly studying the menu, when a blazing argument started in the kitchen. I soon worked out that it was the husband and the chef arguing. I gathered that the chef had just quit, at short notice, and the restauranteur was wondering "what the fuck" he was going to do.

Eventually, the kitchen door burst open, and a red-faced man stomped out, took one look at me and barked:

"Worked in kitchens before?"

I nodded - well, my mum's counts, surely?

"Can you cook"

*tentative nod*

"Got your 706/1?" (City and Guilds Catering cert)

I didn't know what this was at the time, so nodded anyway. I don't like to say no to red-faced angry people.

"Start monday."

And that was it.

I spent the weekend reading cookbooks learning how to make all the stuff on the menu. I was chef at this place for 18 months, eventually having a junior chef and an assistant underneath me.

No-one ever asked to see my 706/1, and no-one ever questioned my ability. The customers were happy, I got many compliments, and they begged me to stay when I finally left.

Professional cooking - piece of piss. Stick your histrionics up your arse, Ramsay.
(ragged, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:21, 4 replies)

Faked being a Swinger
I've only told a handful of people this story, and so here it is..a confessional so to speak.

I've always been a highly sexual person, and was trapped in a loveless/sexless marriage for 5 years believe it or not..before embarking in a 2 year relationship with a nymphomaniac - going from one end of the scale to the other, she was drop dead gorgeous, loved to fuck anywhere, liked to be filmed, was a real moaner (in a good way :D) and would frequently come 5 times (and during one amazing fuck fest came 10 times..I kid you not). Life was better than good, it was FUCKING AWESOME! Apart from the fact that she was also slightly tapped, twinned with the fact I was fresh from divorce with all the baggage that comes with that.

We would argue constantly, then fuck like animals. The stuff dreams are made of. The next day we would argue again, and split up, get back together, fuck each others brains out, argue, split up.. etc.

It came to a point where she knew exactly what buttons to press, and I thought, If i don't break this chain now..one of us is gonna end up dead. So I summoned all my will power, and made one final break..this time for good.

And so it was.. I was single again, footloose and fancy free, and for a short while things looked great. Of course, I had plenty of mental images to keep my hand busy while I flew solo, which was fine initially.. but then it was like a drug, I had to get a kick somewhere!

I had heard there was a Swingers club a few miles out of town, so I thought "why not", I had never tried swinging before, and I wasn't desperate to pay for sex, and with other consenting adults..how can you go wrong!

So off I went. After paying, I made my way to the locker room (kind of like the swimming baths or gym) took off all of my clothes and then put a towel around my waist.

It was surreal, and all the while I was wondering what the fuck I was doing there.. The first room was like a large living room with a pole for the girls to dance around and a bar to build up courage at (quite why I needed courage was beyond me, as everyone there was up for one thing). Further inside, there was a pool, and a jacquzi, a room with a gigantic bed, dungeons, massage rooms, and upstairs plenty of bedrooms.

The place was busy, and I decided to go and chat to this gorgeous brunette wearing nothing but a thong and thigh high white stilletto boots on.

We chatted like you would meeting somebody down the street, and I soon totally forgot I was wearing just a towel.. not knowing the protocol, I asked her if she wanted to have "some fun" to which she said only if my husband can be in the room at the same time! (woah there I thought.. I know some people like that sort of stuff but I like women only, and don't want the 'surprise' of someones cock anywhere near me when I'm mid flow !)

I said how I felt.. and she assured me he just liked to watch... hmmmmm... ok ! (I got chatting to him, which felt bizarre, very nice bloke..it seemed odd that in a few moments I would be fucking his wife!).

So we headed upstairs, and as promised, the husband made his way to the corner as his wife and I got down to business on the bed.
Now as easy as this sounds..if you are not used to other people, it takes a hell of alot of concentration, so I positioned myself so he was out of my line of vision..

Yes I can do this ! I thought to myself, as she moaned in appreciation, legs spread wide, my cock sliding in and out of her hot, wet pussy.

I had just started getting a rythm going, when all of a sudden, the whole swinging community descended upon us to 'watch', old people, young people, good looking, fucking ugly.. the room was packed. My bare arse cheeks shining for all to see.. I was mortified. (remember I'm not used to this!) I looked to my right, and there were a couple of dirty old men, cocks in hand, wanking off.

Cue instant droopage.

It was the worst experience of my life.

After making my excuses and leaving the room, I spoke to the woman and asked her how she managed to cope? I told her I could just about manage her husband being in the room.. but 40 or 50 people, hmmmm thats a little too much of a baptism of fire for me!

She took me by the hand and we went downstairs where she pole danced for me.. all the while, I was feeling like I wasn't up to the job.. I wasn't a man for not being able to perform.

After about 20 minutes of self loathing..she gave me a look saying she wanted to try again, but this time we would find a more private room.

So, off we went, I was determined..my mind kept saying "COME ON !!! YOU CAN DO IT", I wasn't going to fail this time!

They found a room, and again the husband sat in the corner..(all the rooms have no locks on) A chair was put in front of the door to block it.. This time I was ready! She got on all fours, and I gave it to her hard from behind...

I was just getting ingo a rythm.. when the door was flung open, and there, filling the doorway, was the biggest black man I have ever seen in my life! OH FUCK ! I'M GONNA GET RAPED.

Walking in behind him was a gorgeous petite blonde.. (Now I really wasn't prepared for what happened next!) The man sat down, and the blonde stripped and she proceeded to 69 the woman that I was fucking doggy style ! Fucking awesome..I could feel her tongue as I slid in and out of the brunettes wet hole like a man possessed !

It wasn't long before we all came..Finally! withdrawing, I pulled the condom off and shooting, all up her back..

It had gone from one of the worst experiences to one of the best experiences of my life, all in the space of a few hours.

It was the early hours of the morning and I decided to call it a day, and the woman followed me into the changing rooms, and we kissed again before she said "I just wanted to do that in case I never see you again".

She was right..I haven't been back.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Mon 14 Jul 2008, 17:13, 1 reply)

Sorry to break this to you…

But I too have been faking it all these years...

You see, your beloved ‘Orville’ isn’t a real duck. He’s just a fat, green, nappy wearing stuffed toy with my hand rammed up his chuff.

The whole ‘speaking’ thing was me all along.

Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t see my lips moving, you thick twats.

Anyway…sorry.

Love,

Keith Harris.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 14 Jul 2008, 16:20, 8 replies)

Once
at a party, my boyfriend and I retreated to the bathroom for some fun.

He'd been giving me oral for ages but due to the amount of alcohol we had both consumed I just could not orgasm.

So I faked it. And it was spectacular. I banged my hands off the floor and was very vocal in my appreciation.

Apparantly my voice had echoed round the house so everyone had gathered outside the bathroom door to give my boyfriend a round of applause.
(sparkly_penguin, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 16:04, 7 replies)

When ‘faking it’ bites you on the arse…

Now you may not believe this, but I’m actually a bit shy. I love posting on B3ta because of the virtual anonymity. I can state my opinions, tell some harmless anecdotes and sometimes let my fundamentally spacktarded imagination go into overdrive without (m)any consequences.

Months ago, I posted some truthful, needed-to-be-said stories regarding a place I used to work, the conditions and the management.

Some of my old friends who work there found out about this and signed up for B3ta to read / pass on / put up on the notice board etc.

I, however, thought that they would just read the posts relevant to them and not bother with B3ta again.

I was wrong. They kept lurking…

This week I tried to top last week’s ‘The Entity’ style ‘raped by a ghost’ post with a story about...well…look hard enough and you’ll find it. Suffice to say it does not show me in my best light.

So you can imagine my delight when I go to a reunion piss up last Friday and one of my mates shouts loud enough for the whole pub to hear:

“So what’s this about you wearing wimmin’s clothes?”

The pub goes quiet and every head turns in my crimson-faced direction.

Me: “Whhaaaaaaaa?”

‘Mate’: “I’ve read what you said about going all tranny and shagging blokes”

Me: *GULP* “well I….well I ….well I…..shhhhh!”

Whole pub sniggers in disbelief.

Mate: “Didn’t you write that you shagged your boss…and his Dad?”

Me: “NO!….Well, yeah...I mean I did…..but…that was just…..” *goes even redder*

Whole pub collectively gasps, starts muttering and takes out camera phones

Mate: “DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT POST ONTO THE ENTRE T’INTERWEB THAT YOU LIKE IT UP THE ‘WRONGUN’?”

Me: “oh fucking hell”

So there you have it people. Even if you’re bullshitting…keep it real. You’ll get found out in the end.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 14 Jul 2008, 15:47, 10 replies)

Faking it now!
I'm faking it now.

I wrote a completely fake CV about 10 years ago and made myself out to be some IT superhero and sent it out to agents.

I'm still running off the same CV and get paid £500 a day for my sins.

Yes, I'm faking it, but I am well paid to do so.
(scotsbloke, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 15:40, 2 replies)

Not sure why I did this...
Back in the somewhat grotty days of my youth, I had just begun a (quite unexpected) relationship with a young lady in my year. It was early days and we were going though the phase of buying each other things and generally being quite pleasant.
One day said girl skips across the netball courts at lunchtime and presents me with a Snickers bar. A chocolate, nutty symbol of her love.

Now I loved Snickers (not so much now, the peanuts stick in my wisdom teeth) but for some unknown reason I declined.

"I'm allergic to peanuts, I can't eat things like that!" I cried, visibly flinching as if the peanuts would leap out and attack me.

And so began two weeks of her checking and re-checking everything she brought for me, making sure the meals her and her mother cooked were peanut free and generally protecting me from a peanut induced death.

Imagine the look on her face when she caught me tucking into a bag of dry roasted peanuts. We broke up shortly afterwards.

So I faked a peanut allergy, for no reason whatsoever. I suppose it was quite funny at the time. Either that or I was a sad little bastard.
(FerretTrout be illin', Mon 14 Jul 2008, 15:39, 2 replies)

One time....
I tried to reply to everyones QOTW answers with offensive comments and poorly written English.

That was the time that I faked being a member of /talk
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 15:08, 33 replies)

Faking it
I once faked being ill to get off school. I then got my girlfriend out of school by pretending to be her father and telling the school there had been a death in the family. (Although not until I’d liberated a Ferrari from the father of a friend).
I spend the rest of the day having all manner of fun, singing at a street carnival, watching some baseball and eating lunch in a fancy restaurant.
I got home just in time to go back to bed before I was caught.
In other news, my career took a nose-dive and so I married a horse. (the best of all the animals).

Regards,

Ferris Buller.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Mon 14 Jul 2008, 15:01, 5 replies)