Karl
I used to live with a guy named Karl. He was a nice enough chap, he just lacked any kind of social skills or common sense.

Among his various annoying habits and mannerisms was he penchant for walking into bedrooms without knocking. In a house of 4 single men, this was asking for trouble.

One day as was my want, I was polishing the one-eyed gopher. I was having a wale of a time when I heard the stompy-stomp of Karl's size 10s coming up the stairs. I knew it was Karl as he had the habit of rushing everywhere so his footsteps were instantly recognisable.

I wondered if he was coming to see me, I wondered if he would knock, however the only conclusion I reached in these few seconds was that he was a dick and if he walked in on me wanking, its his issue not mine. He should bloody learn to knock.

Sure enough, my door swings open and Karl barges in. (My desk was opposite the door so my back was to him)

"Hello Bam Bam" He said in a voice that went a significant way to softening my swollen member.

"Karl, I am having a wank" I announced pausing dead still mid stroke, surprisingly free of embarrassment. Instead I was just annoyed that I had be stopped on the vinegar strokes by an inconsiderate shit-stain.

"Ha, yeah sure he said" Still looking at my back as he strolled into my room and sat at my bed which ran along side the desk.

I turned and looked at him with a glare. His blank, retarded, expressionless face turned to horror, as he looked down to my lap to see my hand gripping my fast fading, glistening tipped stiffy.

"Oh, shit, erm... Sorry" He said stumbling out of my room as fast as his legs would move, leaving me flaccid and unfulfilled.

At least he learned to fucking knock from then on.
(Bam Bam McPenis will change all this when he is fuhrer., Sun 1 Mar 2009, 0:00, Reply)