I've always dreamt of having a cock as long as a 2 litre bottle of fizzy orange, and just as wide.

Fanta sized, actually.
(localboy purveyor of pisspoor puns, Tue 18 Feb 2014, 7:52, 6 replies)

Fantasies? Pfft.
Soon I'll have no need for fantasies. My dreams will become reality through the power of my self as I wholeheartedly embrace a 360 degree lifestyle change. I will implement a forward facing day to day ideology which will thrust forward my career, self esteem, social life and sex life to newer and higher levels of fulfillment. I will begin to conquer all my wants and needs and grow outwards into the best version of myself I can be.

I will no longer have the time or need for fantasies as I will be making my desires into my new reality.

This potential to self-actualize is something that lies within us all. You must only make yourself willing to progress and then take the steps necessary to unlock that self-actualisation then you can stop adapting to society and start being you! I've addressed the first step in my hierarchy of needs. From only £6,990 you too could effect a real change in your life and become the owner of a new, used Honda Accord from Big John at Karelia Cars, Driffield Road, Market Weighton.
(danishbacon is haram yes?, Tue 18 Feb 2014, 22:51, 8 replies)

Brief rock star fantasy
One day when I was about 6 or 7 in the school playground I decided I wanted to slide on my knees to a standstill like a rock star sliding to the front of the stage, imagining all the fans screaming my name as I threw my arms up in triumph. Sadly, due to a combination of soft grey cotton trousers and a hard concrete surface, this resulted in giant rips across my knees and bloodied kneecaps.
The stupid thing is, there wasn't anyone around to see me - I'd waited 'til I was alone to try it. Not only does this show a shyness not becoming of the rock star lifestyle, but I also had to explain to friends, teachers and family how this normally quiet boy got two large rips on his trousers and wounds on his knees.
Still, there's nothing quite like picking away at scabby kneecaps.
( The Silent Channel is getting his recommended 5-a-day, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 16:08, 1 reply)

My threesome was great!
One Friday night...

I was drinking with a mate in an over-priced haunt on Wardour Street. We'd been on it all day and our quest for quim had dragged us to this place. After a few espresso martinis and some neat moves on the dance floor, we caught the eye of very well preserved forty something lady in a tight red dress.

We got to chatting and flirting and suddenly, within 10 minutes of small talk, she came out with an outrageous statement:

'I want BOTH of you to come back with me now.'

A long cab-ride later and the three of us were deposited outside a lovely detached house in Barnes, right on the river. It was lush. All marble floors and modern art with a gorgeous terrace over-looking the Thames. This girl was loaded. A high-flying banker. No time for husbands or children or other such horrible things.

Once inside she didn't beat about the bush. Rather she got us to beat about the bush. Or rather I started to beat about the bush whilst my too pissed mate looked on despondently. Poor chap couldn't rise to the occasion.

But me and the banker-chick were going at it full steam on the sofa. Meanwhile my partner in crime had taken to pacing up and down the living room floor, muttering to himself audibly, '...get up you fucker, why do you always let me down...'. I blocked him out of my mind and got down to business.

Then she made another wonderful statement:

'I want you in my arse NOW!'

No need to ask me twice. I flipped her over and attempted to fulfil her request. But it wasn't happening. Try as I might I could not get the old fella up there. Every angle and every position was met with absolute resistance from her tight sphincter.

Dammit.

'Oi, do something useful and find me some lubrication.' I yelled to my poor, droopy mate.

He staggered off to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of some sorts.

'Oil ok?' he asked

'Fucking anything!' I yelled back.

He lurched over and began liberally dousing us, with what I thought must be olive oil. Not the cleanest of lubricants. Probably be a bitch to get off the couch. But fuck it. It wasn't my couch.

It did the trick. Boy did it do the trick. I slipped in magnificently and my lady friend squealed in delight. Then she even squealed louder. Then she really fucking screamed. Then she leapt of the couch, ran smack into the wall, hit the floor and lay there writhing around in a greasy mess, wailing in deafening agony, all the time clawing violently at her behind, tears streaming down her face.

What the fuck was going on.

I looked around. Grabbed the 'olive oil' bottle off my knobhead friend and examined it.

Oh dear. Oh deary me.

'Waitrose Finest Chili Oil, made with the fieriest, spiciest chilies of Southern Mexico.'

Then I felt it too. The worst, most intense pain ever, slowly spreading through my nether regions. Like razor blades slicing me internally.

But I'd got off lightly. Our new friend had real problems. But she wouldn't less us hang around to help. She screamed at us to get out. And we did. I hobbled down an unfamiliar street clutching my crotch, my mind bursting with fireworks of pure agony. I could hardly see a thing. But we were near the river. And that's where I ended up. Knee deep in water on the banks of Thames, allowing the foul, polluted, heaven-sent H20 to slowly ease my pain.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Mon 17 Feb 2014, 11:29, 7 replies)

Roses are nice
Violets are glorious
Don't try to surprise
Oscar Pistorius
( Zuowan, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 15:10, Reply)

I played
PC wobbly hides his helmet with the missus while the cat watched, licked it's anus, and disappeared to do whatever cats do.
It's about as close as I'm ever likely to get to a threesome.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Tue 18 Feb 2014, 22:29, Reply)

I acted mine out in miniature by tying a ping pong ball to my bell end with a length of cotton and dressing both hands up in doll's clothes
then with the aid of two tiny tennis rackets attempted a game of Erection Swingball.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Wed 19 Feb 2014, 0:48, 3 replies)

Roses are loud.
Violets are crunchy.
I've got synaesthesia.
( Ambegris likes his tea stirred anti-clockwise, Sun 16 Feb 2014, 23:18, 1 reply)

Acting
In an effort to spend less time at home being anti-social and spending my nights with only a bottle of vodka for company, I started taking acting lessons.

Now the acting coach was very much into improvisation and would regularly give us silly tasks such as acting out random situations or playing the part of household items, and then grade us on our performance.

I remember one time when I found this rather difficult, after all it's not everyday you have to "act" the part of a soft drink. I was really dreading receiving my marks for that performance, but was pleasantly surprised when I checked my grades on the notice board after class and it said "Acting out you are Fanta - C"
(danishbacon is haram yes?, Sat 15 Feb 2014, 20:32, 1 reply)

I have fantasies about beating my partner of 15 years to death. Six months ago I was diagnosed
with terminal cancer, so unless they are involved in an accident or a violent crime it looks like I win.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sat 15 Feb 2014, 10:44, 1 reply)

A friend of mine used to do the sex lines
She had to log in on her phone then calls from wankers used to be transferred to her home phone. She had recorded specialist messages for lots of perversions. Normal sex, submissive, dominatrix, adult baby.

She always had a story. She had a regular who ran a newsagent who was tossing off under the counter as she talked dirty ho him. He'd stop her serve a customer then get back on the phone "right love where were we?"
Once she had a guy who wanted her to fuck the hoover (!!??). So she vacuumed her house while pretending to orgasm.
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 11:25, Reply)

I can see why people do drugs. Cheaper than reality.
Teenage fantasy dream to be in a band. It's not that difficult- there will always be a gap in the talent credentials for someone to fill in, i.e. bass player. Was in a band. Fronted band when singer (clasically trained operatic diva sister of the keyboard player) went off to pursue more Thomas Tallis-related projects. Band unfortunately was in 6th form college so time dictated that eventually we would all finish our A-levels and go our separate ways. Never mind, I got to wear a cape on stage. Was not booed off. Audience obviously young and naive and had a lot to learn about what was boo-worthy.

Get to drive an offroader like it was in an episode of Top Gear? I currently work for L!nd R&ver (on contract but on and off for 11 years, I'm pretty much a fixture). One of my earlier tasks was to fix prototypes up to correct Dynamic Stability Control system issues, i.e. recalibrate sensors, read diagnostic fault codes and fix wiring issues, then take it out to the sand pit or the low speed endurance circuit and basically thrash the prototype car to make sure it wouldn't fail when taken to a facility like Millbrook or MIRA or Lommel or Nardo for endurance testing. Quite important that they work when at a test facility at (£unknown thousands) a day so it's considered a bad show if they arrive unable to do the testing in their booked slot which may not become vacant again for weeks- better give it some REALLY GOOD PUNISHMENT just to be sure...

On the other hand when you're arm-deep in mud and cack from probing behind a wheel arch liner of a car that has just come back from Eastnor Castle (where the deer roam wild and crap freely), trying to scrabble for a pass-through connector so you can probe a pin to read a sensor feed, it's a real bump-down-to-earth moment. But when you need to prove you have fixed it, i.e. take the car back out for a good razzing on the Gaydon proving grounds (LOL he said Gay) to make sure nothing crucial rattles loose before it gets shipped off then you can allow yourself a certain amount of satisfaction in sideways sliding across inlaid greasy cobbles at full throttle. You have to make the car lose traction to prove the traction control is working, AMIRITE?

Also worked at Aston Martin inbetween working at JLR- such is the nature of contracts and working on specific products... I don't tend to wank off over my time on Ford Transits at Dunton, for example.

But I digress. Driving an Aston Martin that doesn't belong to you. Yes, you can press the pedal to the floor and get to where you are pointed very very quickly along to the soundtrack of a bellowing bull or a yodelling wookie (depending on the V12 or V8 in the car you are testing) and pretend you are the owner of a £100,000-£300,00 car but you don't want to be remembered by your colleages as That Wanker Who Returned Shame-Faced To The Factory With a Collection of Smithereens on The Back of a Recovery Truck and forever being known by the production line staff as 'Him who who parks it backwards and upside down in a tree because he was showing off in an insanely powered rear-wheel drive car as he gave the throttle an unwise blip as he exitted a roundabout in the wet".

Besides, that's just the retail price of the car, a prototype costs a shitload more than that. I did sign up for liability insurance before I took on the job, just in case I fucked up and they asked me nicely how I was going to remunerate them for the prototype I might have snapped in two on a motorway bridge support (Contractors do have to worry about these things, however unlikely...).

In truth you drive it like a nun because it does not belong to you and your job kinda relies on you bringing it back without twigs and leaves stuck in the windscreen wipers and you ejected through the windscreen only to be found in a wooded copse some 200 yards away.

I have also had sex with a lady. A consenting one. Of above legal age and of sound mind. While she also was awake. Without paying for it. Stop it.

(That's one thing b3ta and The Law teaches you, check your statements for ambiguities and plug them)
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Fri 14 Feb 2014, 4:50, 3 replies)

I used to fantasize about sex.
Two(ish) children later, I now fantasize about building myself a really nice shed, right at the top of the garden.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 17:15, 9 replies)

Boiling A Baby
For a long time I harboured a fantasy about boiling a baby slowly to death, and one day I got to act out this fantasy, only to be disappointed.

Obtaining the baby was the easy part. If you go to the right places, the poorest estates with the highest levels of drug use, such a thing is no problem and not even that expensive.

In my basement, I set up a large electric element and procured an industrial cooking pot from a local hotel, big enough for my purposes. As the baby slept in its cot, I turned the element on, as I did not want to plunge the baby straight into cold water and distress it. Its distress, and its agonising death, would come later. Lush!

Eventually the chloroform wore off and the baby woke up. It immediately began to cry so I fed it some warm milk and put a video of the Teletubbies on to placate it. Once it had calmed down I took it and placed it, naked, gently into the lukewarm water, making reassuring sounds to it.

Then I turned the heat right up.

Baby seemed to enjoy its bath time at first, splashing around and laughing. It was interesting to note its reactions. When the water became too hot it began to cry, and as the temperature increased it began to jerk about as if electrocuted. When boiling point drew near it began to shriek most thrillingly, a piercing sound I did not think it possible for a human baby to produce. One lives and learns.

Unfortunately as the water boiled steam obscured my view of the baby's death throes, though I was able to hear its voice dissolve into a kind of drawn out warbling gargle which subsided into the bubbling of the water as it died.

I was disappointed however as the experience didn't excite me as much as I'd thought it would. I barely even got semi on.

So it was with a heavy heart that I fished the blistered remains of the baby out of the water and sold it to the Chinese takeaway next door.

Lesson learned, fantasies are best left as just that, fantasies in the mind, not acted out for real.

Oh and for those of you upset that I killed a baby, don't worry it had cancer and would have died soon anyway. And if you are still upset, don't worry, it was ginger and deserved to die.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 17 Feb 2014, 19:20, 12 replies)

roses are red
that's right you yorkie cunts
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 14:16, 1 reply)

I ent never had no truck with fantasies
but then I got talking to some cunts over on off the topics and they seemed like an alrite lot, bit cliquey mind, and they kept going on about these bayshes they'd have. Now I'm not the kind of cunt that ent been to a party before but you should've heard these cunts bang on about their exploits in the smoke! Fucken bonanza man! yer talking ballon hats and stolen drugs and hoover snouts. This one guy found some drugs in a toilet stall or he stole them from stunned poster, i forget which, and these cunts just gave him the high hat from there on in. So y'know, theres a lot at stake amongts the fun and japes and ballon hats. Ooh, I forgot the etchy-sketches with the cocks! So anyway, I decide I want to get in on the act (so this is my fantasy that the question for the week is asking) and arrange to meet up with some baytans (ive been away a while so i forget the names but i trhink there was some becky fella, 'Bill Clay', rosey-someone and Mince with the hoover snout) for a baysh at some place in Shoreditch after meeting up for a dirty burger with another baytan. No one turned up and i ended up in Woodford and i donno how and the fucken trains werent running . Fucken cliquey cunts the lot of them
( Reginald Donkeyfuck, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 11:23, 11 replies)

Major fantasy is to follow stag parties around London in the hope that the stag will be stripped
naked, tied to a lamp post and left on his own. Then I can go an sausage him!
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 21:34, 6 replies)

something, something, supermodel, something, Honda Accord, something something.
Oh, and I punched a policeman once. It really happened.

Star Wars.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 14:28, 1 reply)

I've always fantasized about a threesome with an Asian lad and a Bengal tiger

... I'm Pi-Curious

gets coat
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 11:58, 1 reply)

Ok, so far this QOTW has pretty much been about threesomes.
Unfortunately I won't be changing the running theme here.

So I was 16 nearly 17 and was having an evening of underage drinking at a family friends house. So there is me and two of my mates and family friend (who had lady parts)we will call Shirley and her friend who we can call Ethel.

Now tbh I would have banged either of them I was desperate to shed my V-plates. Now I had always been the gentleman, alas it never paid off. However this one time. Fuck me it did.

So I am balls deep in Ethel, V-plates are well and truly out the window, and the plan was that Shirley would bang one of said friends. Now the door slams open and in walks Shirley moaning about how both of my mates are chundering and comatose in the other room. "You could always join in with us!"

No quicker than the words had left my mouth, her knickers hit the floor and she climbed in the bed. Now that gents, is being thrown in at the deep end.

tl;dr Lost virginity in a threesome.
(bumless The man with the hole in the middle, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 9:30, 4 replies)

Coming and going
When I was in school there was a girl with sleek dark hair and a slim, tight gymnast's body. She wore painted on jeans and when she stood at attention there was a V at her crotch that the light came through like a semaphore from the god of carnality.

I dreamed of coitus, me standing and her with her arms around my neck and her legs clasped around my back.

Never happened, but many years later I did try the standing up bit with a much heavier girl. I got about three thrusts in before stumbling and crashing to the floor.

She had this massive bruise on her hip where she hit the chair.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Wed 19 Feb 2014, 21:40, 6 replies)

Roses are tits
Violets are tits
I love tits
Tits
(arch_crippledick, Wed 19 Feb 2014, 16:37, 3 replies)

Yet another boring threesome tale
When I was at Uni my girlfriend asked me if I would like a threesome. "With two guys or two girls?" I enquired. "Two girls of course" she replied. Get in! I replied that it would interest me and she immediately said that she had found the other girl and that she was up for it, but she didn't want to be penetrated she just wanted a lesbian experience with my girlfriend. Alarm bells should have been ringing but I just thought "No Worries, I'll take the missus whilst she goes down on the other girl"
So girlfriend goes off to arrange this and calls me and tell me to meet her at the Parade bar (not a bad place for a student bar) so off I go and I spot the girlfriend chatting to some guy at the end of the bar (who can't see where this is going?) I go over and am introduced to the other guy, a seemingly nice bloke called Sarah.
Like magic the penny drops. My girlfriend doesn't want a threesome, she wants to experiment with another woman without cheating on me and Sarah just wants to fuck my girlfriend. Due to Sarahs boyish good looks I didn't fancy her in the slightest. I took the girlfriend to one side and told her I didn't really want to have a threesome anymore. She told all her mates that she had offered me a threesome with another girl and I had bottled it because I was scared (leaving out the part about the other girl looking like Peter Pan) I never got another chance at a threesome. Now I'm in my 30's it all just seems like too much hard work. Add that to the tale of my friend who bought in another woman to spice things up and the two women now live happily ever after and he is forever alone, I've really gone off the idea of what was once my fantasy.

TL:DR Yet another "Man gets offered threesome sex but doesn't fancy one of the girls"
( Peej, Tue 18 Feb 2014, 8:38, 4 replies)

I've been reminded of a very peculiar incident that happened some years back
I'd gone out to a shitty "alternative" club with two women: my ex and her friend. Now all night they were telling me that they were going to take me home for a threesome. This was almost certainly a big fib for the sole purpose of winding me up, but it was fun to play along (plus you never know, hey readers? *wink wink*).

So I'd gone off to the gents for a piss, and when I went back down the stairs into the club I couldn't see the girls I was with. So I wandered off towards the dancefloor looking for them, and as I got onto the edge of the dancefloor some girl I had neither seen nor spoken to grabbed me and started kissing my face off.

Confused but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and not wanting to risk finding out that she actually was a horse, I allowed this to continue. Shortly she was groping at my belt, much to my further surprise.

She then got the little general out, dropped to her knees and started to fellate me. On the dancefloor. With a semi-circle of people all facing away from us pretending not to notice what was going on. I glanced over at the bar and saw the two women I was with wagging their fingers and pulling the sort of smirking disapprovalface that you usually only get in films starring Kenneth Williams or Robin Asquith.

Being thoroughly confused by the whole incident, I quickly pulled away from my new friend, did myself up and wandered off to try to explain myself.

I did not speak a single word to the fellatrix, nor did I even see her face.

Recounting this tale now, I am no less confused by the whole affair.
(Eukanuba, Mon 17 Feb 2014, 18:43, 4 replies)

Imagine my surprise, when...
As a man who is, shall we say, well past the first flush of youth, I have to admit that I sometimes find the endless parade of nubile teenage flesh in pubs and clubs rather distracting. Naturally I sometimes let my mind wander, conjouring up unlikely fantasies, credibility-straining scenarios which would make them interested in a raddled old wreck like me - complete with the beer-gut, receding hairline and the dress-sense of a fight in Primark. But fantasies were all I expected them to be.

Except just once, the fantasy came true. A cute, doe-eyed brunette, maybe 19, started dancing with me - and I mean really with me. Amazingly, and against all previous expectations, I managed to keep up with her, trading moves which, for once, didn't have people around pointing and laughing. Even more amazingly, she didn't spin away into the crowd, but stayed with me, dancing, laughing, chatting, then eventually strolling with me back to her place.

It doesn't count as a one-night stand, simply because we didn't leave the bedroom except to grab food, tea or a piss, for the next two days. As I lay there, after another marathon session, I knew that this was probably a never-to-be-repeated moment, something to treasure. Nothing, I thought, could top this.

Until she told me that she was normally exclusively gay, but had broken up with her long-term girlfriend a few days ago. And had wanted to check that she wasn't missing anything...

"And, um, I didn't know men knew how to do that," she finished.



Ok, I know this sounds like a total wank-fantasy. Hence the title. But all my stories are basically true. Others are far better at inventing stories; I like to see how I can write about the true stuff.

And I also know that I've mentioned this before. But hell, wouldn't you?
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 17 Feb 2014, 14:11, 6 replies)

Actually posting after 9 years of lurking*

*having only de-lurked previously to 'shed' overwhelming angriosity at knob farthelm.

Oh, and I did a threesome once ... twice, even. Both arms got tired after that.
(Howland C. Pousiccat sailed away, Sun 16 Feb 2014, 6:00, 2 replies)

Roses are gay
Violets are gayer
Fuck this poem
And listen to Slayer
(Eukanuba, Fri 14 Feb 2014, 22:23, 3 replies)

A job with a brewery, a wife, two children in private education, house near the Chalfonts,
executive company car, 4x4 for the wife so the two chocolate labs are comfy in the back, two holidays a year and enough free time to frequent the gay saunas of London.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 21:16, 4 replies)

I'm sure this will help some of you.
Wait for the music.

www.rainhamsheds.co.uk/
(Pill Popper Thank you Sasha Shulgin, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 19:52, 5 replies)

I was in the bath, with an erection, busting for a piss. long story short, I accidentally jizzed all over my face and tits
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 15:17, 5 replies)