Hell comes in a tub.
Not literally. In fact I apologise as this doesn't even come close to the oyster/fruit pastels of earlier posts!

Ok, so... About 9-10 months ago* I used to live with a couple in a nice newbuild house in Leicestershire. I'd been warned against moving in with a couple as there would probably be (and fucking were) huge rows and lots of awkward moments. Not to mention I was very single at the time and whilst they were two really nice people it was hard not to feel like, well the single one. Also, they were at it like fecking rabbits. Constantly! I work nights and had the joy of returning in the morning to their morning sex, I'd even wake up and start getting ready for work with the ambiance of them two shagging!!

Anyway, the most horrific moment of my time spent with them was one night when they were in the living room watching a movie and I'd gone upstairs to fall asleep to a dvd (I'd only just started nights and found this helps) and suddenly fancied some of this delicious cookie dough ice cream I'd bought.

So I creep downstairs, past the living room, into the kitchen and etc etc ego back upstairs, eat some ice cream and make my way downstairs to put it back in the freezer. Only when I reach the bottom of the stairs I hear the all to familiar squeeks (sadly not from the settee, from her. She makes these really loud, disturbing, high pitched squeeks) and occasional grunts of them copulating like the sweaty spidermonkeys on ecstasy they often were.

Now, do I tread by the living room hoping they don't see me and put the ice cream back in hope of them not hearing me? or do I be a coward and go back upstairs in hope they finish before the ice cream melts?

15 mins later and they're still at it.
I had to eat the whole tub.
It was horrible.

*Yes, they've just had a kid :) Oh, the joy as he updated me on how dialated she was!
(suicidalducky has too much time on his hands, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 4:34, Reply)