cream.... just dont
Had an ex gf who wanted us to have fun with cream. Word from the wise, wash that shit off your cock before u shag her.
The resulting smell of cream going off an stinky with your combined heat almost put me of mimsy poking for life*





*about five minutes
(EvilMeister, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 12:18, Reply)

I like nothing more than a good, hard food-sex session.
Then again, I am a necrophiliac cannibal.
( Cawl, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 10:49, 2 replies)

food and getting fucked
Once when I was pissed and wandering around the outskirts of Carlow town with some mates I saw a large roundy object on the road ahead which turned out to be a sugarbeet. Naturally being drunk and confronted with a large spherical vegetable the only correct thing to do is give it a bit of a kicking so the inevitable charge to be first began. Of course having lightning reflexes and Daley Thompson like levels of athleticism I was first and kicked the bastard for all I was worth.

What I didn't know however was that sugarbeets are as hard as popeyes cock and I subsequently 'fucked' my foot, with a vegetable.

Screw you... it satisfies the question asked entirely.

seriously though... don't ever kick a sugarbeet.

.
(The Cats Twat, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 9:54, 6 replies)

Not food sex
But there are far worse ways of being woken from a drunken stupour in a friend's basement than by having a particularly large chested friend run down the stairs, sit on you and stick said large chest in your face while shouting 'Look! It's my boobs, covered in cream!'.



Sadly I was unable to take advantage of the situation due to the presence of her very large boyfriend upstairs...
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 8:36, 2 replies)

Actually
This question is having an unexpectedly good efffect on me. You see, I'm trying to lose some weight. The list of foods I'm now put off for life is growing.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 8:28, Reply)

Not directly related....
It's not sex with food, per say, but it's near enough.

But I did do the dirty with a male friend in a field full of maize.
The plants were nearly 9ft tall and there was a foot path running along the edge of the field. Luckily we did move to the centre of the field, sacrificed a couple of the pants to make a clearing and did the deed.

My advice is to do it al fresco.
(one-winged-angel-616 isn't as depressed as she sounds, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 0:24, 4 replies)

Natural Yoghurt Substitutes
Recently Mrs V had a spot of discomfort below and she asked me to go to the shops for a pot of natural yoghurt.

I arrive at the supermarket to find it closed and only a 24 hour garage open to buy the yoghurt from and they didn't have the natural yoghurt she'd asked me to get, still I bought a few different types and went home hoping for the best.

Well we gave the various yoghurts a try but none seemed to work, Ski were very runny and had to be inserted using a funnel, the Cadbury's chocolate one was of the right viscosity to apply but we were unsure of where to put the small flake that came with it.

Least successful was the Muller corners, the jam type caused my wife's bum to stick to her pants and attracted ants when she sat in the garden, and we're still finding those little chocolate balls on seats wherever she's been sat.
__________________
( Vambo, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 23:40, 1 reply)

Revolting urban myth...
About the woman who wanted some food-based oral loving with her partner but hadn't got anything but a can of tuna to play with. They go ahead and do it anyway. Well, needs must.

A few days later she has terrible, knawing pain in her mimsy. Worried that its all going Pete Tong up there, she takes herself to A&E.

They put her up in stirrups to take a look up her otter's pocket... the nurse takes one look up there and staggers back to the corner of the cubical, heaving like crazy.

Left over flakes of tuna had rotted in her futon causing a massive infection. Better still... MAGGOTS.

Not true I don't think, but I wish it was.
(Just a girl., Wed 12 Aug 2009, 23:28, 6 replies)

Melon
I once cut a hole in a melon and fucked it. It wasn't as good as one had hoped, and so left it on the floor for a couple of days with the intention of scoffing it all later. However, when one came back to it, a spider had spun an elaborate web in the dick-hole so I had to discard it in the recycling. Ah well.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 23:05, 3 replies)

I worked in a supermarket when I was young.
The resident crazy lady - who often spread the remnants of her bowels around this hypermarket of cheezy food - was known locally to be a prostitute. A big smelly weird-eyed shitty prostitute.

She also frequented the butcher's counter in order to 'put a cow back together again'. (The fruits of her scientific efforts were found growing faces in the back of her car.)

Imagine if the prostitution and bovine-building were somehow intertwined...

(Poor the mentally ill. But that was America, land of the free...home of those not able to afford the proper medical attention one might require to avoid a fetid life of a poo-stained small town hooker with an interest in green meat.)
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 21:54, Reply)

potato and jelly
has no one mentioned poetry.rotten.com/potatoes-n-jelly/ You should have a heads up that it is from rotten.com which is considered by many to be beyond the pale. It was one of the first internet stories I remember along with being bearded. Ah, those were the days, I remember the internet when it was all fields.
( spingers, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 21:19, 1 reply)

While working at the butchers
I was warned, on my first day, never to put my cock in the bacon slicer.

One day, when there was no-one else in the shop, I gave in.



The firemen said they'd never seen so much blood. I am now unable to reproduce.
( MatJ LOOK, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 20:28, 2 replies)

True Story!
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs Spikeypickle were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young spikeypickle was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on her games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs Spikeypickle decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, there infront of my eyes was nothing in particular.

I went to the kitchen, made some egg sarnies and fucked them until I made my own special mayonnaise, then Mrs Spikeypickle rubbed them all over her firm naked body before collapsing due to the numerous, overwhelming orgams that she has. I then licked the eggy mix off her which made her have more orgasms before adding more mayonnaise to her face which she willingly accepted before begging for more.

this story may not really be true
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 17:30, 4 replies)

Try this
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and the present Captain's concubine were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young miss placid was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming she was inside playing on her games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, the present Captain's concibine decided that she should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring her out. She was indeed in her room but was on the computer rather than on her console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my senses alerted.

By the time she opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet she still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, there infront of my eyes was Zaphod Beeblebrox-on-Ford Prefect action.

I could best describe it as Frood sex.


Apologies to magicthecat and Douglas Adams.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 17:05, 2 replies)

John Hughes,
Breakfast Club...

work with me people.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 16:59, Reply)

Creme Smeg
But only once a year.
( the_other_jeff_lebowski Croutons on my tits, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 16:55, 1 reply)

I is sad...
How come I've not met any of the woman who have posted or been mentioned in this qotw?
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 16:30, 3 replies)

Kinder Bueno
Ribbed, for her pleasure
(Go on , touch it, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 15:39, Reply)

I met this girl in a nightclub once...
Things went well and I ended up back at her place, 'for a coffee'. We were having a bit of a snog on the sofa, when she paused.
"I'll just put the coffee on" she giggled, and disappeared into the kitchen.
I heard kitcheny noises, then she came back in and sat down, whereupon we resumed where we'd left off.

...only now there was something terribly wrong. I felt the gorge rise in my throat and sprung off the sofa like a scalded cat, desperate to get the taste out of my mouth.

The taste of the marmite on toast she'd been craftily eating in the kitche...

Oh no wait. That wasn't me, it was the man in the advert.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 15:33, Reply)

Ok, you can have the secret of my success...
Coconut oil. It's like some kind of miracle substance. You can use it in cooking (substitute butter for coconut oil when making desserts). It's an amazing moisturiser, can be used to do your hair. The best bit is it's amazing for massages and lube, and tastes great! It's usually solid at room temperature but will melt instantly at body temperature so liquifies on contact with the skin. Best of all you'll both smell lovely afterwards and be nice and moisturised!

P.S. avoid the health food shops that sell it for $$. Its about a quid a tub in asian markets.
(SoggyBottomBoy, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 15:10, 4 replies)

ICEPOLES
Don't use the red strawberry flavoured ones
(TwinkleFuckingToes Has a ingrown toe nail, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 13:55, Reply)

Some years ago the now Mrs ROF
decided she wanted to coat me in yogurt and squirm around on top of me. In fact she'd bought some yogurt from the corner shop earlier that day in preparation.

I'm sure it would've been quite nice if the stupid bint hadn't chosen Hazelnut Yogurt...slippery yet gravely.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Wed 12 Aug 2009, 13:41, Reply)

Last summer....
... it was a warm and sunny day and myself and Mrs The Cat were sunning ourselves in the garden, enjoying a few lovely glasses of Chablis under the shade of the tree, while the kittens frolicked around the garden enjoying themselves.

However, young master kitten was nowhere to be seen which was a little odd. We paid no attention at first assuming he was inside playing on his games console thingamejig.

As the weather was so clement, Mrs The Cat decided that he should come outside and take advantage of the sun and thus despatched me to go and bring him out. He was indeed in his room but was on the computer rather than on his console, but the scurrying sounds after I knocked the door got my feline senses alerted.

By the time he opened the door, the computer was off, nothing seemed amiss yet he still seemed a little flustered, so i thought I'd have a wee look at the browsing history later.

My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I checked the website he had last visited, there infront of my eyes was hot hobbit on hobbit action.

I could best describe it as Frodo sex.
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 11:23, 4 replies)

Excuse me, do you need some help with that?
I asked the girl holding a guitar case that was about the same height as her. I had just finished my first ever set at an open mike night, and I was ready to go home and sleep off the low that coming off adrenalin gives you.

She had other plans. She was impressed at my 'gentlemanly' offer, and offered to buy me a drink. My 'gentlemanly' senses noticed that she had an arse you could bounce coins off of, so I obliged.

She seemed very nervous about doing her set, so she had gone for some dutch courage. The more intoxicated we got, she kept telling me quite personal details:

"I have a boyfriend, but the last time we were together he raped me"
(Why the fuck are you telling me this!?)

"I'm so nervous about going onstage. Shall I go on or shall we leave"
(We, huh? That's a good sign. But what's all this about rape?)

"My dad's been really ill with cancer. We never got on because he was a man's man in the army, too rough for us to understand each other"
(by this point, I wasn't sure if she wanted to paint herself as some sort of martyr, or she just wanted to vent her problems, or whether any of this was true or not)

A couple of drinks later (she'd managed to tell me all that over a mere two cocktails!) and she had to go on stage. She was in a rather advanced state of refreshment, and we stopped pulling each other so that she could play her set.

Some people perform better when drunk/high. Hendrix is a fair example. Other people, like this girl, sounded like a cat with down's syndrome.

After a long, pretty embarassing set, she finally finished and we got a cab home to my place.

As we stepped through the door, she asked where the toilet was and could she get a coffee.

At this point, I was about as excited as a ferret in a trouser factory. I was finally going to have some super-happy-funtime. I bolted towards the kitchen, past all my housemates. To their credit, they helped me sort out a tea for me and coffee for her, noticing my trembling at the thought of doing the horinzontal fandango and 'baptising' our student house.

Five minutes had passed, the coffees were ready and I set them down in my room.

"Funny," I mused "she's not here. Must still be on the loo. I'll wait"

Another five minutes passed. I knocked on the door;

"Coffee's ready, it's getting cold"

No answer. My sod's law sense was tingling. Something was amiss. I started pummeling the door, all my housemates behind me sniggering and considering my options.
We decided to peek through the keyhole to check whether she was still there. She was there all right, slumped against the bathroom wall, completely unconcious.

SHIT!

999 was dialled, the paramedics came and we broke the door down. Fortunately, they managed to wake her up and I was guaranteed not to be accused of doing anything dodgy (I was at this point concerned about her safety, and whether I had made the right decision)

She slept in my bed that night, I relegated myself to the floor. I spent the night kicking myself whilst occasionally checking to see if she was still breathing.

The morning after was awkward, especially considering all the personal stuff she had told me the night before. I made her some eggs and toast and we parted ways. I saw her again on the way to my lectures barely two hours later. Her friend asked me if I was "the guy she went home with where she ended up unconcious". Yup, great. That's me then.

So, in conclusion, I have managed to write a QOTW answer where there is no actual sex involved and no food. Oops.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 10:48, 10 replies)

My friend Tim
told me that he was once masturbating furiously when he endured a sudden coughing fit.

He managed to ejaculate into his own mouth, and the shock of it caused him to swallow.

We asked him what it tasted of and he said "like batteries and red bull".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 10:29, 11 replies)

I Once
Had a blow-job from that guy from Bugs Bunny....

Cheers

Oh - FOOD-sex.... - Sorry
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 7:52, 2 replies)