TRIPLE SHIT
I didn't have sex with this celebrity, though I would've liked to have had a pop at her innards with the hot pestrami. But, alas, it just wasn't meant to be. She was probably the most famous woman in the world. Surrounded by secret service agents, mixing in different circles than my own - somehow I didn't expect to see her in the mosh pit at Rock World - she was a rare jewel and I was a walking, talking, masturbating turd.

Oh, and she was dead.

It was the fucking boiling hot summer of '97. I'd just finished Uni and was bumming round my parents place in Harpole, Northamptonshire. A fucking boring place. Notable only for its close proximity to the swanky stately home, Althorp House, home of the uber-toff family, the Spencers.

And this incredibly fit woman used to be a Spencer. And then she died fucking an Arab in France. (I don't think that actually killed her, it was more likely the car crash and the French love of alcohol coupled with kind of driving that makes Need for Speed look like a Department of Transport safety video).

When she popped her clogs people, strangers started turning up, asking for directions to the Spencers gaff. There were even Americans. Fucking AMERICANS!!! In fucking HARPOLE!!! It was all a bit weird.

If someone stopped and asked me the way I'd point them in the general direction and they'd fuck off. I had my own problems. At the time I was pining for the love of my life, a girl from Yorkshire who was, in retrospect, pig ugly, but she let me take her up the shitter regularly and gave head like nothing on the planet Earth.

I was completely lovesick.

On a particularly hot and balmy early September evening I was sat in the churchyard in Harpole. No other fucker was about. It was a quiet contemplative place, a place I could unwind and relax. And the recent addition of MILLIONS of photo's of the famous dead woman and flowers and cards of condolence only added to the atmos.

So I sat on a large slab of tombstone and used my new-fangled brick of a mobile phone to send dirty messages up the M1 to my girl in Yorkshire. And she'd send incredibly dirty, sawdid, and downright disturbing text messages back down to me.

This went on for a few minutes. I took a drag on my joint, feeling slightly high and increasingly more randy. I looked round. No fucker in sight. This is Harpole, I thought to myself. The village of the living dead - no fucker out and about at dusk.

So I knelt down and started to stroke my cock through my shorts, sending and receivng pure filth via text. I told my girl I was wanking. She said she was too. Fuck me! She said she wished I was there with her to suck her clit and shove my thumb up her arse. Fuck me even harder! Then, after a breif pause, she sent a text telling me she'd just had her mobile burried up her growler. FUUUUCCCCKKKK MMMEEEEE!!!

By this time I could feel I was about to spurt. I disposed of the joint, hitched down my shorts and felt the gentle kiss of the summers' breeze on my meat and two veg.

"Ahh, there's someone - he looks local..."

And I started to wank furiously, staring intently at the small LCD screen on my phone for the next dirty text message from my Yorkshire slapper.

"He's got his back to us, dear. He hasn't heard us...go ask directions, Hon..."

Eventually it came and so did I, sending a beautiful stream of ropey jizz in an arch, splattering down on some random flowers and besmirching a photo of a certain dead famous Princess.

"OH DEAR MOTHER OF GOD !!!"

I jumped upright, this American couple who'd sneaked up behind me jumped too.

And then they ran-waddled back the way they'd come.

I put my swaying, dripping cock away. As they legging it, puffing and wheezing, back to their hire car.

Shit...

Then I reassessed the situation and realised I'd been caught with my cock out masturbating over flowers, photos and cards of condolence for Lady Dianna a few days after she died, in a churchyard, a couple of miles away from where she grew up.

Double shit...

Come to think of it -

Triple shit...

Made me look a little bit, well, odd...

...I mean, we all loved the women, apparently, but that was taking it a little too far...





Oh, and I did once shag Ryan Giggs' girlfriend when I was at Uni in Manchester. Woo me !!!
( SpankyHanky, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 1:04, 8 replies)

...

You know I wonder about all the stories you HAVEN'T had the opportunity to divulge yet Spanky.

Bed now. Far too much booze and K.

Night...
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 2:18, closed)

...
When they do another wanking QOTW, you'd probably get a full page of "best"ness.


By the way, do you do anything else except splong spaff from your penor? I'd be quite upset if you did.

If you went to a sperm banks all over the country regularly, in about 200 years the country could be full of Spanky's.
Tissues would be in short supply and the cheesy/squiddy smell would be bad of course...
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 5:16, closed)

You will probably go to hell for this...
Nice one *clicks*
(Lizard King, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 10:23, closed)

LOL
Jesus, thats funny. Thanks, Spanks
(Errin C, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 10:24, closed)

hee hee
didnt have to wait long :)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:02, closed)

Dear God !
I think you're gonna go to hell - click !
(Hotty, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:28, closed)

Wonderful tale
Spanky. Thanks :-)
(Milly One, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:29, closed)

HeeHeeHeeHeeHeeHeeHee
another epic post about wanking, Mr Hanky - love it!
(Grrrrr Tigers, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 17:51, closed)