The saddest young man in the world
I was lodging with a very well to-do family in their large, modern home. The parents were very friendly types, the kind who’d watch Midsomer Murders on a Saturday night, but blush as soon as anything remotely adult appeared on screen. They had a complete failure of a son, who was older than myself, but worked in Sainsbury’s and rarely left his room, and a daughter, Gemma, who was my age, and whose room was directly opposite mine.
Gemma wasn’t hot, but she was certainly attractive, she had a curvy figure and a pretty great body, but was let down by her Jimmy Hill-ean chin; She had the kind of arse that forced involuntary spasms in the trousers of young men. Unfortunately, she also had a boyfriend. A ridiculously good-looking, manly, boyfriend, and their relationship was pretty solid, but of course, that wouldn’t stop me fwapping over her occasionally.

One night I was having trouble sleeping, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning, I became aware of a quiet, squeaking sound coming from across the hall. It took me a second to realise what it must be; Gemma and Captain Fantastic going at it, their bedsprings squeaking to the rhythm of their energetic thrusting. The thought started to get me going, I was becoming turned on, and my imagination ran wild with images of their sweaty embrace.
My hands reached down, and I began tugging at my meaty shaft. My head filled with fantasies of Gemma being taken roughly from behind, quietly whimpering as her boyfriend’s rigid cock bounced merrily off her G spot, then he flips her over, wraps her ankles around her shoulders, slides deep inside her, and they kiss gently as he grinds his hips against hers. I vividly imagined her smell, her taste, the way she would feel, in my mind I had taken the place of her boyfriend. I was making her feel things she had never felt before, taken her and pleasured her like never before, and then she came, writhing and arching her body beneath me. I was spent, the fantasy had done its job, and I tried to get to sleep.

However, the squeaking bedsprings went on for a long time after I’d finished, it felt like at least an hour before Gemma’s large, brute of a man had spilled his load.
The next morning I awoke early, and as I pottered around my bedroom I became aware of the bedspring sound again. Surely they weren’t at it again? I have to admit, I was impressed by their stamina, and decided to knock out another quick one before I left for work.

I straightened myself up, got ready, and stepped out into the hall. The bastard squeaking was still going, but looking at the floor, I realised where it had been coming from the whole time. Gemma had left her Hamster cage by her bedroom door, the sound of little Hammy running in his wheel had been keeping her awake at night.

Fucksocks. I’d only been wanking over a cunting Hamster.
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 19:27, 4 replies)

Was it an attractive hamster? I find the black and yellow calico long haired to be the hottest.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 20:23, closed)

This explains a lot.
A. LOT.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 20:29, closed)

it does go some way to explaining the embarrassing incident
where I accidentally stuck your flatmate up my arse.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 22:16, closed)

"bounced merrily off her G spot"?
What has she been using on it - Hammerite? That boyfriend of hers needs to read a couple of female anatomy text books ..!
( bnt what, me worry?, Sun 1 Mar 2009, 23:37, closed)