Cham-pag-knee
After celebrating our finals, my ex told me that she'd always wanted to pour champagne over me and then suck it off as it dripped down my rigid cyclops, a not inconsiderable journey by my reckoning. Luckily we happened to have a few bottles of Dom Perignon 1965 (could have been Babycham) left from the party and so we decided to try it.

We considered doing it in our 3ft long bath tub, but rejected it as not giving the right ambiance. The kitchen was a mess with the added risk of late night wandering by flatmates and so that just left the bedroom. As impulsive and hedonistic as we were, neither of us liked the idea of sleeping on a soaking wet, alcohol fumed bed so we scaled it down a bit.

Instead of splashing it over me we got a glass and she trickled a small amount of bubbly down me from my belly button and licked it of (which was nice). Then I had a brain wave, I could just dip my member in the glass and then quickly transfer it to her greedy lips, thus saving time and our sheets.

So I gallantly took the glass and wrestled my turgid snake into the champagne, whilst she knelt in front of me expectantly.

Our eyes met and I let out a HUGE scream, then kneed her in the face. Turns out that my urethra is actually quite sensitive to any alcohol and bubbles that pass through it in the wrong direction. In short - my dick was on fire.

I ran past the stricken girl and towards the bathroom, past some onlookers that had been attracted by my banshee like screams and quickly tried to put some cold water onto my suffering and rapidly deflating old boy.

She got a bruise that lasted a fortnight. We never tried it again
(Bo Nidle Coming back in from the cold., Thu 22 Oct 2009, 22:06, Reply)