I hurt my rude bits
Spent all day with a sore bum, went to the loo to check it out and found blood in my pants. Not good. Piles? Checked in the shower and pulled a staple from my arse. Serves me right for leaving an old pencil case in my underwear drawer. BTW: On relating this story to a friend they said, "some people will do anything for a prick up their bottom."
( , Thu 13 Jul 2006, 22:00)
Spent all day with a sore bum, went to the loo to check it out and found blood in my pants. Not good. Piles? Checked in the shower and pulled a staple from my arse. Serves me right for leaving an old pencil case in my underwear drawer. BTW: On relating this story to a friend they said, "some people will do anything for a prick up their bottom."
( , Thu 13 Jul 2006, 22:00)
This question is now closed.
Spud flattening fun
Back in the dim 'n' distant, I ran my Uni Parachute Club, and organised the charity deals where you raised some sponsorship and a sadist kicked you out of an aircraft.
Before we headed off to the dropzone for the weekend, I would give my little speech about what to expect, what to bring etc and would finish with "and for the gentlemen present, do NOT repeat NOT wear boxer shorts". Some asked why, some didn't, some were already cacking themselves and were in their own little world of relaxed sphincters and false bravado.
Why? 'Cos when you depart the aircraft which is travelling at 90-100 knots, it takes a few seconds for the static line to pull the canopy out and for it to deploy(or turn into a bag of feckin' laundry, but that's another story). So you jump (trans: fall out like loosely tied sack of shit)out of fast moving plane, fall (squealing like lil piggy) for a few seconds and then DECELERATE very quickly. Parachute harness goes over your upper thighs. Where your full body weight is supported during deceleration.
And now the point - if, as you sit in the climbing aircraft in the correct knees up position, one of the old love spuds slithers its way out of loose fitting boxers and under your harness....
The victim was ahead of me in the jump and I did notice he seemed to be a bit subdued (no checking out the hard turns etc which most people do once the OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT I'M GONNA D.......Cool! bit is over.
For some reason, he declined jump number 2.
Oh, and if you ever see this Planty, I apologise for using the tale at the annual pissup/ awards dinner thing.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:13, Reply)
Back in the dim 'n' distant, I ran my Uni Parachute Club, and organised the charity deals where you raised some sponsorship and a sadist kicked you out of an aircraft.
Before we headed off to the dropzone for the weekend, I would give my little speech about what to expect, what to bring etc and would finish with "and for the gentlemen present, do NOT repeat NOT wear boxer shorts". Some asked why, some didn't, some were already cacking themselves and were in their own little world of relaxed sphincters and false bravado.
Why? 'Cos when you depart the aircraft which is travelling at 90-100 knots, it takes a few seconds for the static line to pull the canopy out and for it to deploy(or turn into a bag of feckin' laundry, but that's another story). So you jump (trans: fall out like loosely tied sack of shit)out of fast moving plane, fall (squealing like lil piggy) for a few seconds and then DECELERATE very quickly. Parachute harness goes over your upper thighs. Where your full body weight is supported during deceleration.
And now the point - if, as you sit in the climbing aircraft in the correct knees up position, one of the old love spuds slithers its way out of loose fitting boxers and under your harness....
The victim was ahead of me in the jump and I did notice he seemed to be a bit subdued (no checking out the hard turns etc which most people do once the OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT I'M GONNA D.......Cool! bit is over.
For some reason, he declined jump number 2.
Oh, and if you ever see this Planty, I apologise for using the tale at the annual pissup/ awards dinner thing.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:13, Reply)
The horror! The horror!
When I was 19 my girlfriend of the time and I were getting down to some enthusiastic good lovin' in her bedroom while her parents were watching TV downstairs. Suddenly I felt a searing pain from the downstairs department and realised that the banjo-string had gone. The bloodflow was spectacular. Attempts to stem the flow with tissues came to nothing - I remember trying to catch the blood in an empty milk bottle (why she had a milk bottle in her bedroom is anybody's guess). In panic I stuffed some tissues down the front of my kecks and left to go to the hospital. Unfortunately they lived in a small terrace house and the only way out was down the stairs and through the living room past her parents - they were probably puzzled by the speed of my exit and the palour of my appearance. At that time I didn't have a car, and A&E was two bus rides across town. On the bus I realised that blood had visibly seeped through the front of my jeans - never a good look. When I eventually got to A&E I had to try to explain my predicament to the lady on the front desk (who had probably seen it all before, and then some), had a good two hour wait and then had to suffer the indignity of having my old man prodded by the doctor. Fortunately I didn't require stitches (eek!) but I was given the advice that I should "avoid arousal for about a month". A month? I don't think I had another stiffy for at least a year...
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:13, Reply)
When I was 19 my girlfriend of the time and I were getting down to some enthusiastic good lovin' in her bedroom while her parents were watching TV downstairs. Suddenly I felt a searing pain from the downstairs department and realised that the banjo-string had gone. The bloodflow was spectacular. Attempts to stem the flow with tissues came to nothing - I remember trying to catch the blood in an empty milk bottle (why she had a milk bottle in her bedroom is anybody's guess). In panic I stuffed some tissues down the front of my kecks and left to go to the hospital. Unfortunately they lived in a small terrace house and the only way out was down the stairs and through the living room past her parents - they were probably puzzled by the speed of my exit and the palour of my appearance. At that time I didn't have a car, and A&E was two bus rides across town. On the bus I realised that blood had visibly seeped through the front of my jeans - never a good look. When I eventually got to A&E I had to try to explain my predicament to the lady on the front desk (who had probably seen it all before, and then some), had a good two hour wait and then had to suffer the indignity of having my old man prodded by the doctor. Fortunately I didn't require stitches (eek!) but I was given the advice that I should "avoid arousal for about a month". A month? I don't think I had another stiffy for at least a year...
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:13, Reply)
Not me, but still painful
My mate (who shall remain unnamed) is a bit of a deviant so and so, and has done a few odd things (self-genital-piercing is one) but the best has to be this one time when we were all at his house. He snuck off for a few and after a few minutes we heard an almighty yelp and shouts of "I can't get it out, I can't get it out!!".
Said friend had his chappie stuck in a typewriter. Asked what he was doing, he said "I was trying to type my name on it..."
Several hours and a trip to A&E later, and we're back in party mode. He'll never live that down though.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:12, Reply)
My mate (who shall remain unnamed) is a bit of a deviant so and so, and has done a few odd things (self-genital-piercing is one) but the best has to be this one time when we were all at his house. He snuck off for a few and after a few minutes we heard an almighty yelp and shouts of "I can't get it out, I can't get it out!!".
Said friend had his chappie stuck in a typewriter. Asked what he was doing, he said "I was trying to type my name on it..."
Several hours and a trip to A&E later, and we're back in party mode. He'll never live that down though.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:12, Reply)
Deep Heat
Pulled a muscle in my thigh. Started rubbing it on. How was I supposed to know it would burn if you got it a bit close to the man tackle? It was a pulsating, throbbing pain (like a strange orb glowing on an alien ship), that would vary the intensity of my manly screaming.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:09, Reply)
Pulled a muscle in my thigh. Started rubbing it on. How was I supposed to know it would burn if you got it a bit close to the man tackle? It was a pulsating, throbbing pain (like a strange orb glowing on an alien ship), that would vary the intensity of my manly screaming.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:09, Reply)
Crushed Cock
Back in the days of uni, the misses of the time and I were attempting to have filthy water-accelerated sex in one of the miniscule showers of her student housing. We tried all sorts of weird and wonderful positions to get that optimal power-thrusting position, but not with much success. After trying a few out, I decided it might be a good idea to sit on the floor and get her bouncing on top.
As she prepares for the initial 'sex-landing' her foot slipped, and to avoid falling over she did the spacker dance to try and regain upward stability and, in the process, landed hard with the other foot onto my awaiting and skyward-facing cock.
I screamed like a girl and did a fart simultaneously. It took weeks to recover.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:05, Reply)
Back in the days of uni, the misses of the time and I were attempting to have filthy water-accelerated sex in one of the miniscule showers of her student housing. We tried all sorts of weird and wonderful positions to get that optimal power-thrusting position, but not with much success. After trying a few out, I decided it might be a good idea to sit on the floor and get her bouncing on top.
As she prepares for the initial 'sex-landing' her foot slipped, and to avoid falling over she did the spacker dance to try and regain upward stability and, in the process, landed hard with the other foot onto my awaiting and skyward-facing cock.
I screamed like a girl and did a fart simultaneously. It took weeks to recover.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:05, Reply)
not me, but a little brat :D
I used to live in a rough part of Swansea (on the border of Blaen-y-maes and Portmead if anyone's heard of them). We had a house which was on the corner of a small close halfway up a long hill, which we had full view of.
One afternoon, me n me dad are talking in the living room, and we happen to notice this small schoolkid walking on the neighbours wall. We also see some of the neighbours shouting at the kid, as he's apparently walked all the way across this wall from about 10 houses down, and broken someone's fence. He's all smug, and proceeds to carry on walking across our wall too, almost breaking our fence too on the front wall. He hops down, walks across our drive, and hops up rather cheekily on the side wall, which leads around the side into the close, and has no fence protecting it.
Cue my father choosing this oppertune time to bang the window, which causes just enough of a distraction for the kid to fall either side of the wall, trapping said private parts under his complete body weight. Crying his eyes out, me n dad laughed for ages as we watched him limp all the way up the road bow-legged for 10 minutes until he went out of view.
That'll learn him.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:03, Reply)
I used to live in a rough part of Swansea (on the border of Blaen-y-maes and Portmead if anyone's heard of them). We had a house which was on the corner of a small close halfway up a long hill, which we had full view of.
One afternoon, me n me dad are talking in the living room, and we happen to notice this small schoolkid walking on the neighbours wall. We also see some of the neighbours shouting at the kid, as he's apparently walked all the way across this wall from about 10 houses down, and broken someone's fence. He's all smug, and proceeds to carry on walking across our wall too, almost breaking our fence too on the front wall. He hops down, walks across our drive, and hops up rather cheekily on the side wall, which leads around the side into the close, and has no fence protecting it.
Cue my father choosing this oppertune time to bang the window, which causes just enough of a distraction for the kid to fall either side of the wall, trapping said private parts under his complete body weight. Crying his eyes out, me n dad laughed for ages as we watched him limp all the way up the road bow-legged for 10 minutes until he went out of view.
That'll learn him.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:03, Reply)
I usually love a hot cup of tea
8 years ago in my final year at uni I lived with 2 girls (Lou & Alex). Lou wanted to have an adult sit down & a chat about a recent argument, and by argument, I mean she had called me a cunt a lot for not doing the washing up.
Being a typical student I had waited until ALL of my clothes were dirty before I did any washing, and all I had to wear for this little 'clearing of the air' chat was a pair of tracksuit bottoms (sweatpants to the 'merkins) & a t-shirt. No underwear.
Anyhoo, we go into the front room, Lou sits down, I put my hot cup of tea on the arm of the chair next to her and plonk myself into the chair...pulling the covering sheet taught propelling the steaming cup of tea into my lap.
I jump up "OO AHH OOO AHHH OWWWW!" turn away & did the only thing that would relieve the searing pain, I yank my soaked trakkie bottoms down to my ankles, effectively shoving my big red scolded arse in Lou's face.
I waddle as fast as a man in pain with his trousers round his ankles can go to my room next door to rub copious amounts of E45 cream into my nether regions, Lou runs upstairs SHRIEKING with laughter to tell Alex, cue another explosion of laughter & them thundering back downstairs.
As I am rubbing cream into my bits, I hear sniggering outside my door...a tentative knock..."Ben...do you need us to rub in some cream"...more sniggering (not a serious offer methinks).
Long story short, the air was cleared and we all became the best of friends through that special bond that can only be achieved with spontaneous nudity and 1st degree burns of the cock, balls and arse.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:02, Reply)
8 years ago in my final year at uni I lived with 2 girls (Lou & Alex). Lou wanted to have an adult sit down & a chat about a recent argument, and by argument, I mean she had called me a cunt a lot for not doing the washing up.
Being a typical student I had waited until ALL of my clothes were dirty before I did any washing, and all I had to wear for this little 'clearing of the air' chat was a pair of tracksuit bottoms (sweatpants to the 'merkins) & a t-shirt. No underwear.
Anyhoo, we go into the front room, Lou sits down, I put my hot cup of tea on the arm of the chair next to her and plonk myself into the chair...pulling the covering sheet taught propelling the steaming cup of tea into my lap.
I jump up "OO AHH OOO AHHH OWWWW!" turn away & did the only thing that would relieve the searing pain, I yank my soaked trakkie bottoms down to my ankles, effectively shoving my big red scolded arse in Lou's face.
I waddle as fast as a man in pain with his trousers round his ankles can go to my room next door to rub copious amounts of E45 cream into my nether regions, Lou runs upstairs SHRIEKING with laughter to tell Alex, cue another explosion of laughter & them thundering back downstairs.
As I am rubbing cream into my bits, I hear sniggering outside my door...a tentative knock..."Ben...do you need us to rub in some cream"...more sniggering (not a serious offer methinks).
Long story short, the air was cleared and we all became the best of friends through that special bond that can only be achieved with spontaneous nudity and 1st degree burns of the cock, balls and arse.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:02, Reply)
falling..
Back in the dark ages of the late eighties, our local buses had ticket machines as well as drivers. The idea being that if you went through the right hand side of the door, you had to pay the machine, and if you went through the left hand side of the door, you payed the driver. They took out all the machines, and put horizontal bar across the entrance to where the machine had been (to force everyone to go to the driver).
I got on one day, paid my fare. I was standing there talking to a mate, and the bus suddenly lurched away. I went flying. Fell backwards, and one leg went one side of the bar, the other went the other. My crotch hit the bar extremely hard. I had quite bad bruising in that whole area (and some trouble walking) for about a week afterwards.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:47, Reply)
Back in the dark ages of the late eighties, our local buses had ticket machines as well as drivers. The idea being that if you went through the right hand side of the door, you had to pay the machine, and if you went through the left hand side of the door, you payed the driver. They took out all the machines, and put horizontal bar across the entrance to where the machine had been (to force everyone to go to the driver).
I got on one day, paid my fare. I was standing there talking to a mate, and the bus suddenly lurched away. I went flying. Fell backwards, and one leg went one side of the bar, the other went the other. My crotch hit the bar extremely hard. I had quite bad bruising in that whole area (and some trouble walking) for about a week afterwards.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:47, Reply)
Mountain Biking in Wales
I sat down for a rest, wearing my lycra cycling shorts.... Sudden intense stinging on my arse.... I checked the grass to find that I'd sat on the smallest, weediest nettle ever. It stung my bum.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:41, Reply)
I sat down for a rest, wearing my lycra cycling shorts.... Sudden intense stinging on my arse.... I checked the grass to find that I'd sat on the smallest, weediest nettle ever. It stung my bum.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:41, Reply)
Paiiiiin
I went on holiday in Wales a couple of years ago and forgot to pack my jodhpurs. Never mind, I thought, cowboys ride in jeans all the time, it'll be cool in a sort of cowgirl rodeo chic kind of way.
One leisurely hack later, my girly bits were in complete agony. I spent the rest of the week applying Savlon to places I didn't know I had.
How do cowboys do it?!
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:37, Reply)
I went on holiday in Wales a couple of years ago and forgot to pack my jodhpurs. Never mind, I thought, cowboys ride in jeans all the time, it'll be cool in a sort of cowgirl rodeo chic kind of way.
One leisurely hack later, my girly bits were in complete agony. I spent the rest of the week applying Savlon to places I didn't know I had.
How do cowboys do it?!
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:37, Reply)
wasp sting
There was the time as a wee nipper at infant school wearing shorts that i got stung on the dangly bits by a wasp.
I think if I remember rightly the teachers thought it was the funnist thing espically when they had to dab vinegar on them to ease the pain
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:20, Reply)
There was the time as a wee nipper at infant school wearing shorts that i got stung on the dangly bits by a wasp.
I think if I remember rightly the teachers thought it was the funnist thing espically when they had to dab vinegar on them to ease the pain
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:20, Reply)
Well, my man-bits were doing just fine.....
.....until a certain someone found out she was preggers.
She proceeded to kick me in the nuts.
Once i regained the ability to speak i explained that kicking me in the nuts now might be A BIT TOO FUCKING LATE.
Hurt for days....
Length? Girth? Both...lovingly attached to my girlies size 4.
NB: The babber is due on the 7th, and we are very pleased about it.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:19, Reply)
.....until a certain someone found out she was preggers.
She proceeded to kick me in the nuts.
Once i regained the ability to speak i explained that kicking me in the nuts now might be A BIT TOO FUCKING LATE.
Hurt for days....
Length? Girth? Both...lovingly attached to my girlies size 4.
NB: The babber is due on the 7th, and we are very pleased about it.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:19, Reply)
BlowJob with Braces
One of the best story I heard from a "ask auntie" problem page, went something like this;
The other day I was enjoying the pleasure of performing oral sex on my boyfriend, suddenly he screamed, I thought I must be doing something right. No it was a scream of pain and lots of blood, you see his foreskin had got caught in my brace
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:17, Reply)
One of the best story I heard from a "ask auntie" problem page, went something like this;
The other day I was enjoying the pleasure of performing oral sex on my boyfriend, suddenly he screamed, I thought I must be doing something right. No it was a scream of pain and lots of blood, you see his foreskin had got caught in my brace
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:17, Reply)
I got smacked in the mouth
for calling someone a stupid fucking cunt.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:11, Reply)
for calling someone a stupid fucking cunt.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:11, Reply)
Mine and my friends genitals. (An adaptation by Renaissance Pictures, in association with Film Four)
Right. Me first, because I'm writing it and even more importantly, I'm the winner/best/man/pimpmomma/greatest.
I went to a party once. It was a very nice one, with lots of boys older than me, and plus it was dress up (I went as Pinkie Tuscadero, but never mind). I got rather drunk on all sorts of children's alcohol like Mad Dog 20/20 and Vladivar vodka, and then sat heavily and at great speed on a fence. I'd been aiming for the bricky surroundy bit, but I sat on the iron spiky bit and had to have two stitches on part of my.....parts.
The Lady S: We went to the woods for picnic and giggles. There's a big assault course there, all made out of logs, bits of logs and sticks. So wood then. There's these big long horizontal lifty things, and the man below (her beau, and the most volatile man I've ever known bless him)tried to lift one of these horizontal loggy things with the lady S on and put it down somewhat roughly while she was koala bear-ing on top of it. The only time you'll ever hear a posh bird shout 'Ow my C***!'
Jam Master J: Sat on his drummer's stool without the seat on. Or as he terms it 'That f**king thing violated me...'
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:11, Reply)
Right. Me first, because I'm writing it and even more importantly, I'm the winner/best/man/pimpmomma/greatest.
I went to a party once. It was a very nice one, with lots of boys older than me, and plus it was dress up (I went as Pinkie Tuscadero, but never mind). I got rather drunk on all sorts of children's alcohol like Mad Dog 20/20 and Vladivar vodka, and then sat heavily and at great speed on a fence. I'd been aiming for the bricky surroundy bit, but I sat on the iron spiky bit and had to have two stitches on part of my.....parts.
The Lady S: We went to the woods for picnic and giggles. There's a big assault course there, all made out of logs, bits of logs and sticks. So wood then. There's these big long horizontal lifty things, and the man below (her beau, and the most volatile man I've ever known bless him)tried to lift one of these horizontal loggy things with the lady S on and put it down somewhat roughly while she was koala bear-ing on top of it. The only time you'll ever hear a posh bird shout 'Ow my C***!'
Jam Master J: Sat on his drummer's stool without the seat on. Or as he terms it 'That f**king thing violated me...'
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:11, Reply)
"This scalpel's the wrong size - pass me one of the brown ones."
I had external haemorrhoids. They're like the normal kind but kind of half-in, half-out, bigger than you'd think possible, and extremely painful. I could barely walk, sit or cough. I saw my doctor, who referred me to the hospital to have them lanced.
It was a fairly quick (but humiliating) procedure done under local anaesthetic, with students observing. There was no pain, but I could feel everything. My lasting memory was the surgeon saying, 'Right... now I'm going to put my finger right inside your bottom...'
When he'd finished he said, 'Well, I must say you're a braver man than me.'
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'Well, when I had these I just sat them out. Waited for them to go away by themselves.'
No one had ever told me that was an option.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:02, Reply)
I had external haemorrhoids. They're like the normal kind but kind of half-in, half-out, bigger than you'd think possible, and extremely painful. I could barely walk, sit or cough. I saw my doctor, who referred me to the hospital to have them lanced.
It was a fairly quick (but humiliating) procedure done under local anaesthetic, with students observing. There was no pain, but I could feel everything. My lasting memory was the surgeon saying, 'Right... now I'm going to put my finger right inside your bottom...'
When he'd finished he said, 'Well, I must say you're a braver man than me.'
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'Well, when I had these I just sat them out. Waited for them to go away by themselves.'
No one had ever told me that was an option.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 9:02, Reply)
So I was about 9 or 10 and in the Brownies
and I wanted to get my Athlete's Badge.
To do this you had to do a couple of pansy stunts like basically run without falling over.
The bit I had trouble with was 'high jump over a 90cm bar'. For some reason (probably because I have no co-ordination) I couldn't get my head round the scissor kick aspect of the jump.
My Mum decided to help by balancing a wooden broom on two garden chairs, at about the right height, and sent me out into the garden to practise.
Off I go: one leg in the air and over the bar. Other leg refuses to leave the ground. I go down rather heavily (I wasn't a small girl) right on top of the bar. It fucking hurt. I landed so hard I actually broke the broom in two.
Now, we ladies don't have the dangly bits, but a good hard (excuse the pun) twatting in the whatsit still hurts like a bastard. I had to go for a lie down and a cry, and my Mum laughed.
I never got the badge.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:52, Reply)
and I wanted to get my Athlete's Badge.
To do this you had to do a couple of pansy stunts like basically run without falling over.
The bit I had trouble with was 'high jump over a 90cm bar'. For some reason (probably because I have no co-ordination) I couldn't get my head round the scissor kick aspect of the jump.
My Mum decided to help by balancing a wooden broom on two garden chairs, at about the right height, and sent me out into the garden to practise.
Off I go: one leg in the air and over the bar. Other leg refuses to leave the ground. I go down rather heavily (I wasn't a small girl) right on top of the bar. It fucking hurt. I landed so hard I actually broke the broom in two.
Now, we ladies don't have the dangly bits, but a good hard (excuse the pun) twatting in the whatsit still hurts like a bastard. I had to go for a lie down and a cry, and my Mum laughed.
I never got the badge.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:52, Reply)
Stitches all the way round
The week after my first birthday, i’m being looked after by my grandparents at their house so my parents can go out and do parenty type things.
My grandmother has just given me a bath and I’m sat, naked, on the arm of the leather couch.
My little body was warm due to the heat of the bath, it was late spring (and the very early 1970’s so the weather was nicer, I blame the government) and the couch was leather. Not a good combination.
Just after she leaves the room, I decide I’m going to topple off sideways, luckily into the couch, rather than out of it.
At that point, my old chap decides to make a bid for freedom and stay where it was, stuck to the arm of the couch. Yes, the little Highrise and I parted company briefly.
Thankfully, the surgeons managed to stitch it back on but I do have stitch marks all the way round. And it still works fine, thank you very much for asking.
For years afterwards, my parents managed to embarrass me by telling this story to all my girlfriends. My current beau and I have been together for over ten years now, so thankfully my parents have stopped.
I’m not sure if my parents realised, but none of my girlfriends believed the story. It was ‘pure hell ™’ proving it to them. No, really.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:49, Reply)
The week after my first birthday, i’m being looked after by my grandparents at their house so my parents can go out and do parenty type things.
My grandmother has just given me a bath and I’m sat, naked, on the arm of the leather couch.
My little body was warm due to the heat of the bath, it was late spring (and the very early 1970’s so the weather was nicer, I blame the government) and the couch was leather. Not a good combination.
Just after she leaves the room, I decide I’m going to topple off sideways, luckily into the couch, rather than out of it.
At that point, my old chap decides to make a bid for freedom and stay where it was, stuck to the arm of the couch. Yes, the little Highrise and I parted company briefly.
Thankfully, the surgeons managed to stitch it back on but I do have stitch marks all the way round. And it still works fine, thank you very much for asking.
For years afterwards, my parents managed to embarrass me by telling this story to all my girlfriends. My current beau and I have been together for over ten years now, so thankfully my parents have stopped.
I’m not sure if my parents realised, but none of my girlfriends believed the story. It was ‘pure hell ™’ proving it to them. No, really.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:49, Reply)
The folly of men's youth....
Once in my 20's - I decided for a laugh to dip my nob into my then girlfriend's glass of wine. It was funny for me for about a microsecond before the alcohol seeped into my hogseye far enough to burn on sensitive skin tissue.
Urination was 'uncomfortable' to put it mildly for 24 hours, and ever since, wine goes down my gullet, and my tadger stays safely in my underpants.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:40, Reply)
Once in my 20's - I decided for a laugh to dip my nob into my then girlfriend's glass of wine. It was funny for me for about a microsecond before the alcohol seeped into my hogseye far enough to burn on sensitive skin tissue.
Urination was 'uncomfortable' to put it mildly for 24 hours, and ever since, wine goes down my gullet, and my tadger stays safely in my underpants.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:40, Reply)
One day
I was making a nice and spicy hot curry. In the middle of chopping up some extra hot scotch bonnet chillis my body tells me i need to piss.
Word of warning, if you ever need to piss after touching chili peppers please wash your hands FIRST.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:33, Reply)
I was making a nice and spicy hot curry. In the middle of chopping up some extra hot scotch bonnet chillis my body tells me i need to piss.
Word of warning, if you ever need to piss after touching chili peppers please wash your hands FIRST.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:33, Reply)
Inner Space
When stationed in the far East (Hong Kong) I started to notice that every time I curled one out the water in the loo was bright red and when I flushed it looked like that scene from the Shining when the lift doors open. I headed to the doctor who referred me to an eminent local proctologist. After a poke around with his lubed up fingers he decided that a full-on colonoscopy was in order. A few days later I was lying on my side, having been completely flushed out by laxatives and sedated, in hospital while a mini-camcorder probed my insides. You haven't lived until a Chinese doctor has shoved a camera up your arse, I can tell you.
On the plus side he gave me the video, which is guaranteed to break the ice at parties.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:18, Reply)
When stationed in the far East (Hong Kong) I started to notice that every time I curled one out the water in the loo was bright red and when I flushed it looked like that scene from the Shining when the lift doors open. I headed to the doctor who referred me to an eminent local proctologist. After a poke around with his lubed up fingers he decided that a full-on colonoscopy was in order. A few days later I was lying on my side, having been completely flushed out by laxatives and sedated, in hospital while a mini-camcorder probed my insides. You haven't lived until a Chinese doctor has shoved a camera up your arse, I can tell you.
On the plus side he gave me the video, which is guaranteed to break the ice at parties.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 8:18, Reply)
lubricant is teh good
When I was about 22 my boyfriend and I were about to have sex and, although condoms were handy, lube was not. "Oh that's OK, we don't need any lubricant" I gaily trilled and we got down to it. I ended up with my own banjo string - a big raised scar running from my hole to my other hole. Owee owee owee. Lube is good, use plenty!
Also, someone's already posted this but I too have known the pain of intra-nasal semen application. My eyes are watering just thinking about it.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:15, Reply)
When I was about 22 my boyfriend and I were about to have sex and, although condoms were handy, lube was not. "Oh that's OK, we don't need any lubricant" I gaily trilled and we got down to it. I ended up with my own banjo string - a big raised scar running from my hole to my other hole. Owee owee owee. Lube is good, use plenty!
Also, someone's already posted this but I too have known the pain of intra-nasal semen application. My eyes are watering just thinking about it.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:15, Reply)
Crushed nuts
I must have been about seven at the time. We lived in a large block of flats with a children's play area situated out front. It had recently been converted from lovely cat shit-filled sand to that horrible rubbery stuff they use these days. Apparently, playing with cat shit isn't good for you.
During the conversion, they'd done away with the rusty nail-ridden seesaw we all knew and loved, and replaced it with those stupid plastic ride-ons mounted on giant springs. Being a big lad, I could push one of them down and stand with it on the ground. God, did I look hard, and did I impress all the girlies who were watching.
Well, I did, until the thing pinged up off the ground and straight into the back of my nutsack. Not torn or ripped, but heavily grazed and bruised, and there was enough blood on my pants to warrant a trip to my mum.
I spent the next two weeks with a giant nappy on. So much for impressing the girlies.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:14, Reply)
I must have been about seven at the time. We lived in a large block of flats with a children's play area situated out front. It had recently been converted from lovely cat shit-filled sand to that horrible rubbery stuff they use these days. Apparently, playing with cat shit isn't good for you.
During the conversion, they'd done away with the rusty nail-ridden seesaw we all knew and loved, and replaced it with those stupid plastic ride-ons mounted on giant springs. Being a big lad, I could push one of them down and stand with it on the ground. God, did I look hard, and did I impress all the girlies who were watching.
Well, I did, until the thing pinged up off the ground and straight into the back of my nutsack. Not torn or ripped, but heavily grazed and bruised, and there was enough blood on my pants to warrant a trip to my mum.
I spent the next two weeks with a giant nappy on. So much for impressing the girlies.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:14, Reply)
Not me, but a guy who I sailed with
on a seismic survey ship off Brazil where we would all go and "bronzy" for a couple of hours in the afternoon, lying on deck getting as much sun as possible. After 5 weeks of this the skin was leathery brown, which we thought looked good! Then one day he was out in his new shorts with his bell end popping out of his shorts and he was fast asleep, where he snoozed for most of the afternoon with the help of the local beer, Brhama Chop. Needless to say that something that hadn't seen the light of day soon soaked up the sun. It wasn't until later in the evening that the pain set in and he couldn't walk, the medic saw him and so did we, his bell end looked like a dried but evil red prune, which looked worse with the flamizine cream on it. He was medivac'd where it was discovered he had 2nd degree burns and repatriated. He was on the sick for 3 months and on his return was always greased up and wore speedo's under his shorts.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:08, Reply)
on a seismic survey ship off Brazil where we would all go and "bronzy" for a couple of hours in the afternoon, lying on deck getting as much sun as possible. After 5 weeks of this the skin was leathery brown, which we thought looked good! Then one day he was out in his new shorts with his bell end popping out of his shorts and he was fast asleep, where he snoozed for most of the afternoon with the help of the local beer, Brhama Chop. Needless to say that something that hadn't seen the light of day soon soaked up the sun. It wasn't until later in the evening that the pain set in and he couldn't walk, the medic saw him and so did we, his bell end looked like a dried but evil red prune, which looked worse with the flamizine cream on it. He was medivac'd where it was discovered he had 2nd degree burns and repatriated. He was on the sick for 3 months and on his return was always greased up and wore speedo's under his shorts.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:08, Reply)
Shameless repost
Couple of years back on my birthday I decide to go into town and actually treat myself to something "special". Few hours later I was £60 lighter and the proud owner of a ring through my cock ! (which looked fantastic). However I decided to go out drinking that night (despite being warned not to do so)
So I go out that night drinking, despite being warned not to knock the ring or drink any alcohol (at this point, the anisthetic (sp?) was still in effect).
Got home eventually very drunk and crawled into bed.
Woke the next morning with a hangover, pull back the bed sheets and noticed that EVERYWHERE was red, my first thought "was i drinking red wine in bed last night??"........."SH*T!!!!", I jumped (literally !) out of bed and ran into the toilet, pulled down me pants to reveal a scene from Texas chainsaw massacre.
I start washing myself, sink is now red and then.....then a lump of something looking suspisciously like flesh lands in the sink, my heart pounding so fast nearly breaks my ribs.
Thankfully its just congealed blood and my pride and joy is still in working order.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:01, Reply)
Couple of years back on my birthday I decide to go into town and actually treat myself to something "special". Few hours later I was £60 lighter and the proud owner of a ring through my cock ! (which looked fantastic). However I decided to go out drinking that night (despite being warned not to do so)
So I go out that night drinking, despite being warned not to knock the ring or drink any alcohol (at this point, the anisthetic (sp?) was still in effect).
Got home eventually very drunk and crawled into bed.
Woke the next morning with a hangover, pull back the bed sheets and noticed that EVERYWHERE was red, my first thought "was i drinking red wine in bed last night??"........."SH*T!!!!", I jumped (literally !) out of bed and ran into the toilet, pulled down me pants to reveal a scene from Texas chainsaw massacre.
I start washing myself, sink is now red and then.....then a lump of something looking suspisciously like flesh lands in the sink, my heart pounding so fast nearly breaks my ribs.
Thankfully its just congealed blood and my pride and joy is still in working order.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 7:01, Reply)
Still gives me nightmares.
Little 6 year old me entered first class at school. There was a girl who honestly looked like a gorrila, anyway teacher vacates the room one day to the rising noises of rowdiness. For some reason gorrila girl gets mad at me. I'm standing at the top of the row, she's at the back, charges full tilt toward me and with a kick like an angry silverback, booted my balls into my body. White light, pain and straight off home.
On the positive side two days later a cute female dotor gave my 6 year old eyes a view of a cleavage so fantastic that I have never seen equals since.
Oh and I got a week off school as well!
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 4:56, Reply)
Little 6 year old me entered first class at school. There was a girl who honestly looked like a gorrila, anyway teacher vacates the room one day to the rising noises of rowdiness. For some reason gorrila girl gets mad at me. I'm standing at the top of the row, she's at the back, charges full tilt toward me and with a kick like an angry silverback, booted my balls into my body. White light, pain and straight off home.
On the positive side two days later a cute female dotor gave my 6 year old eyes a view of a cleavage so fantastic that I have never seen equals since.
Oh and I got a week off school as well!
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 4:56, Reply)
It's Huge
I ride a motorbike, and have had my share of spills over the years.
This accident almost got me to give it up, and more than riding.
Cruising down a main road, doing the speed limit at the time, which was 70km/h. Car pulls out in front of me, t-bone into the bonnet. Body flies forward, balls then hit the bike tank, and I'm catapulted over the car onto the road.
Little bit of a slide, wait till I stop, and then get up. Felt okay, not too bad, bit of bruising, but nothing seems broken. Front of my jeans have split open. Then I notice what looks like a tennis ball lying on the ground. I pick it up. Fits into my hand. Takes me about a minute to realise it's one of my testicles.
Now I go into a bit of shock, as the adrenaline starts to wear off, and the pain kicks in. Ambo's arrive soon enough, I'm giving the magic whistle to suck on, and off we go to hospital.
Some surgery later, my ball has been reattached. Couple of weeks later, I'm out of hospital.
BTW, while you're healing, and have stitches in your balls, getting morning wood is a painful and stitch tearing event.
Story doesn't end there.
Few months after I was all healed up, I had to go back to check if I was shooting blanks. So I'm in a side room, jerking off. It's rather hard to get it up without any other aids. Then what happens? 2 nurses walk in. Unfortunately we ain't talking about hot nurses, we're talking about the 60 year old matrons here. All 3 of us were damn well embarrassed.
Anyhow, tests came back, I ain't shooting blanks, and I still ride :)
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 4:20, Reply)
I ride a motorbike, and have had my share of spills over the years.
This accident almost got me to give it up, and more than riding.
Cruising down a main road, doing the speed limit at the time, which was 70km/h. Car pulls out in front of me, t-bone into the bonnet. Body flies forward, balls then hit the bike tank, and I'm catapulted over the car onto the road.
Little bit of a slide, wait till I stop, and then get up. Felt okay, not too bad, bit of bruising, but nothing seems broken. Front of my jeans have split open. Then I notice what looks like a tennis ball lying on the ground. I pick it up. Fits into my hand. Takes me about a minute to realise it's one of my testicles.
Now I go into a bit of shock, as the adrenaline starts to wear off, and the pain kicks in. Ambo's arrive soon enough, I'm giving the magic whistle to suck on, and off we go to hospital.
Some surgery later, my ball has been reattached. Couple of weeks later, I'm out of hospital.
BTW, while you're healing, and have stitches in your balls, getting morning wood is a painful and stitch tearing event.
Story doesn't end there.
Few months after I was all healed up, I had to go back to check if I was shooting blanks. So I'm in a side room, jerking off. It's rather hard to get it up without any other aids. Then what happens? 2 nurses walk in. Unfortunately we ain't talking about hot nurses, we're talking about the 60 year old matrons here. All 3 of us were damn well embarrassed.
Anyhow, tests came back, I ain't shooting blanks, and I still ride :)
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 4:20, Reply)
my willy had some sort of swelling
I rubbed and rubbed ointment into it, but that just seemed to make it worse.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 3:43, Reply)
I rubbed and rubbed ointment into it, but that just seemed to make it worse.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 3:43, Reply)
Well, I've been reading this QOTW
and if sympathy pain were real pain, I think I'd have offed myself right about now.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 3:40, Reply)
and if sympathy pain were real pain, I think I'd have offed myself right about now.
( , Fri 14 Jul 2006, 3:40, Reply)
This question is now closed.