House Guests
"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.
( , Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.
( , Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
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Religious experience
Back when I was 15, a friend of my mum's came to stay at our house for a weekend. She was called Carol, raven-haired, mid forties, and was what we'd now refer to as a MILF. At the time I think I just made that "phwoar" sound that comprises 46% of the script of the original On The Buses movie.
Carol was in the spare room next to the bathroom. My folks kept their books, nick-nacks and the souvenirs from their care-free, pre-sprog travels in there. In pride of place was a brass statuette of Buddha which the olds bought in Bangkok, en route to Oz for a holiday.
Late that night, as I returned from what the Americans call a comfort break and I call a piss, I noticed the door to the spare room was a tiny bit ajar. So of course I slowed and peeped. Lying on the bed was Carol, naked apart from her socks. She was frigging herself off at impressive speed using Buddha, the Supreme Teacher of Gods and Men as a big shiny makeshift dildo.
Carol, I saw, had an impressively huge growler, and the image of the Serene One's face appearing and disappearing into that bush has stayed with me, clear as you like, these intervening years. In fact I had an uncanny flashback not long ago watching Michael Mcintyre pogoing about enthusiastically under his mop of hair at the Apollo.
Carol never saw me and a, "hey, big boy. Why don't you join me" scenario never happened. You wouldn't have believed me anyway.
On Sunday evening, after Carol had left, I went in to the spare room. The Buddha was back in the centre of the shelf, looking calm and benevolent as always. I gave him a good sniff. Alas he just smelt of brass.
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 11:37, 10 replies)
Back when I was 15, a friend of my mum's came to stay at our house for a weekend. She was called Carol, raven-haired, mid forties, and was what we'd now refer to as a MILF. At the time I think I just made that "phwoar" sound that comprises 46% of the script of the original On The Buses movie.
Carol was in the spare room next to the bathroom. My folks kept their books, nick-nacks and the souvenirs from their care-free, pre-sprog travels in there. In pride of place was a brass statuette of Buddha which the olds bought in Bangkok, en route to Oz for a holiday.
Late that night, as I returned from what the Americans call a comfort break and I call a piss, I noticed the door to the spare room was a tiny bit ajar. So of course I slowed and peeped. Lying on the bed was Carol, naked apart from her socks. She was frigging herself off at impressive speed using Buddha, the Supreme Teacher of Gods and Men as a big shiny makeshift dildo.
Carol, I saw, had an impressively huge growler, and the image of the Serene One's face appearing and disappearing into that bush has stayed with me, clear as you like, these intervening years. In fact I had an uncanny flashback not long ago watching Michael Mcintyre pogoing about enthusiastically under his mop of hair at the Apollo.
Carol never saw me and a, "hey, big boy. Why don't you join me" scenario never happened. You wouldn't have believed me anyway.
On Sunday evening, after Carol had left, I went in to the spare room. The Buddha was back in the centre of the shelf, looking calm and benevolent as always. I gave him a good sniff. Alas he just smelt of brass.
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 11:37, 10 replies)
We could have a novelty QOTW week
'Stories about anything you want, but must be accompanied by a sketch/painting of the events'
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 12:35, closed)
'Stories about anything you want, but must be accompanied by a sketch/painting of the events'
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 12:35, closed)
It'd be a QOTW and Image Challenge all rolled into one!
It's worth trying just for the novelty factor...
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 13:15, closed)
It's worth trying just for the novelty factor...
( , Fri 7 Jan 2011, 13:15, closed)
Fucky damn it
A buddha lass wank aid. Typical. This harms my great and largely true memory. I might now have to pretend it was a Mohammed dildo with a clit-stimulating bomb hat. I'd like to see the brave westerners who'd produce and market THAT bad boy.
And I'd get out of having to draw it as well. Sometimes fundamentalism is your friend.
( , Sat 8 Jan 2011, 0:30, closed)
A buddha lass wank aid. Typical. This harms my great and largely true memory. I might now have to pretend it was a Mohammed dildo with a clit-stimulating bomb hat. I'd like to see the brave westerners who'd produce and market THAT bad boy.
And I'd get out of having to draw it as well. Sometimes fundamentalism is your friend.
( , Sat 8 Jan 2011, 0:30, closed)
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