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This is a question I Hurt My Rude Bits, Again

My commute to work was made excellent the other day when I saw a motorcyclist try to ride on the pavement to avoid a traffic queue, lose control, fall off and land bollock-first on a concrete bollard. He was fine, eventually – but tell us your tales of the old blinding agony to the gentleman's or gentlewoman's area.

(, Thu 7 Mar 2013, 12:50)
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(, Mon 11 Mar 2013, 11:16, 4 replies)
I think I've told the story of my former housemate before but it's worth a re-heat
On paper, he was a genius with the highest academic qualifications from the world's best universities. In real life he was, not to put too fine a point on it, not the sharpest tool in the shed. For one, he was a subscriber to the popular internet bullshit theory that circumcised men are less likely to catch STDs and having had the operation for religious reasons, considered himself all but invulnerable in that area.

So imagine his surprise when (due to a girlfriend who thought it perfectly acceptable to go back to France and have sex with her ex in the middle of their relationship) he found himself saddled with not just Chlamydia but HPV - the very infection that all the websites claim is unheard of in the Jewish community thanks to the magical shield-like powers of having a bit of your cock cut off. Anyway, he had to trundle off to the Marlborough Clinic and have hundreds of warts frozen off his cock and balls with liquid nitrogen, which left him somewhat impotent and depressed for a couple of months, during which he only got back with the girl he'd got them from once or twice at the most.

Eventually he came out of his deep funk and resolved to be positive about things and also not to see her again. About a week later, he went out to a party and didn't return until the following morning. We went for lunch with friends in a pub around the corner and he regaled us with the story of how he'd met a Peruvian girl and gone back to hers to make the beast with two backs. He boasted that he'd put it in her arse and that he didn't even have to use a condom. Around the table, faces hit palms. When I suggested that this might be an awesome way to catch HIV, he said he wouldn't catch it as he was circumcised. Again, another round of facepalms. He said she wouldn't have caught anything anyway, as she was a nice girl from a wealthy family.
(, Mon 11 Mar 2013, 10:51, 63 replies)

what's with all the stories of blokes getting the snip? with all the other options why result to bollock threatening surgery? you wouldn't demand your wife /girlfriend had her tubes tied,so wtf? what if you meet someone less demanding after the inevitable divorce once she finds someone she doesn't mind having umpteen babies with?
(, Sun 10 Mar 2013, 22:04, 42 replies)
Wasn't there mesel but
Got a mate who seems to need a lot more sex than I do, anyway, him and his gf have another lady who joins them fairly regularly and he likes a lot of bum sex and fists and things that are a bit more extreme than the nice regular lights off missionary that I prefer. Anyhoo about 6 months ago he was going at it hard having taken 2 little blue diamond tablets and after some vigorous thrusting missed the mark and bent his cock in half. He screamed like a girl and then noticed quite a bit of serious swelling. A trip to the A&E ensued and the upshot of a broken dick means that he has just has an AMS 700 Penile Prosthesis fitted. Google the images and you will see just how horrific this looks.

The only other person I know who has one got it after trying to shoot smack into the big blue vein down his shaft and after being warned not to many times finally could fine no other means to get the drugs into him and so tried to get it into the only vein he could find. This resulted in 6 months of ops and pain and no they both have no need for viagra as they have a little pump that they use to get wood and another little valve to let the air out afterwards.

Remember kiddies don't do drugs, especially if you have to load a needle up with street smack and inject it into your one eyed blue veined hooligan.
(, Sun 10 Mar 2013, 19:42, 4 replies)
caught by a whisker
this painful tale was related to me by my cousin, a nurse in a very busy A & E department.

late one busy friday night, a middle-aged man walks in, helping a woman who is clearly having great difficulty walking by herself. he steered her towards the front desk and told the staff member there "she needs help", then buggered off. the lady(whose name i was not, of course, told) couldn't sit down and was obviously in a lot of pain, but was very reluctant to tell nurses what was wrong.
after finally getting her into a cubicle and fetching a doctor to look at her, the reason for her pain and discomfort was revealed.
it seems her boyfriend, the man who'd brought her in, had decided to introduce props to sexy time and had shoved a balloon whisk up her doings. then he'd twisted it. this, sadly, had trapped a piece of her insides in some way and a minor(but very embarrassing) operation was needed to remove the whisk. she was there for a couple of days and, from what my cousin said, her boyfriend didn't show up once.
i've heard of playing with your food, but fucking with your utensils is going a bit too far.
(, Sun 10 Mar 2013, 14:36, 12 replies)
There is someone whose rude bits should be hurt, to say the least.
I refer to this man:


I know where he is. He's here in the UAE.

For a decent sized bribe I can tell you more precisely where.
(, Sun 10 Mar 2013, 14:20, 21 replies)
Prior to an operation I needed to get the lady garden gardened, so it was off to the salon and on with the IPL.

Having my pubes burned out with a device that feels hotter than the sun was horrifically painful. But one pass was not enough and it required further treatments of being blasted with both IPL and Laser. Yes, a Nurse set fire to my thatch with a Q switched welding laser. Walking home after that lot was not enjoyable. Thank god for taxis.

What was the op you may wonder? Oh just a simple cut and shut from an outy to an inny
(, Sun 10 Mar 2013, 11:35, 33 replies)
This is an odd story, and quite unbelievable, but bear with me
A long time ago, post- leaving uni but pre- getting anything like a proper job, I lived in a flat with a friend and his girlfriend. She was (and is) an artist, and quite an eccentric one at that. As such, she had taken to painting topless in the kitchen on roller skates and there were huge extremely graphic paintings of genitals lying around everywhere. This is not particularly relevant but does put the whole thing into context.

Anyway, she went through a period of wanting to paint nudes, and she asked me to be one of her subjects. Being young and quite fancying her, I was up for it. However, her boyfriend wanted to be around to stop any funny business. Fair enough.

So this meant me being in the kitchen naked with a lady painting me and her boyfriend (a friend of mine) basically just sitting around drinking beer and taking the piss out of the whole situation, as it was clearly quite absurd.

Being naked in front of other (clothed) people can be quite liberating, so I took the opportunity of doing something of a party trick. My penile banjo string at that time was exactly that: a string attaching my foreskin to my bellend. Being in a mischievous mood, I decided to make use of this for showing off purposes and managed to hang a set of keys from said aforementioned string, much to the delight of my friend and his missus. All non-sexual good fun. However, understandably it bloody hurt, and I realised that it was a stupid thing to do, though a great story to tell the grand kids.

Anyway, a week or so later, I was engaging in vigorous intercourse with a ladyfriend and suddenly discovered masses of blood between her legs. At first I thought she'd started her period mid-shag until I observed that I was in excruciating pain. Pulling out of her, I looked down to see the bloodied remains of what had once been my banjo string, but had now become a dangling flap of banjo gristle. Presumably, not helped by the hilarious keyring-cock-dangling acrobatics I'd recently engaged in, I had weakened and ultimately torn that sensitive part of my gentlemanhood.

It healed very quickly, didn't hurt for long, and has caused no lasting damage. Never knew what that bit of skin was for anyway :-/
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 23:42, 3 replies)
A guy I used to work with only had one ball.
Apparently the other was in the Albert Hall. Nice guy, but he tended to get a bit angry and go off on a rant when he was drunk. I wonder what happened to him.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 22:19, 1 reply)
Buster Gonad
Apologies for the pea, but vaguely relevant!

After polluting the gene pool with 4 children I decided to have the snip, all went well....

very pleasant experience, very jovial doctor - typical b3tan sense of humour, I actually spent the time joking away watching You Tube clips (this was just after the Cadburys Gorilla advert came out, and laid watching this clip - was hoping and praying the doctor didnt air drum with his scalpel!!)

After this, caught the bus home, every single pothole... lots of pain!!

To cut a long story thankfully short, my left bollock decided to swel up to the size of a tennis ball, which is all very well in the lunchbox department unless you are 6'4 and sell luxury furniture for a living.. my height meant my bollocks were just above dining table height, so when stood talking to a customer it looked like I had laid them on the table ready for carving!

This also meant that I had the tendency to catch them on table corners quite regularly.. which in the showroom I work in meant a very polite smile, then a walk to the toilet to bite the doorframe as the excruciating pain subsided.....
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 21:58, 2 replies)
A guy I worked with once had his nutsack slashed open by a boar's tusk.
Too scared to look, he asked the girl who was working with him to check the damage and she obliged.

"She wept with laughter" he told me, then she suggested he went to hospital where they stitched up the ragged tear.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 21:20, Reply)
This is all a load of bollocks.
And it's quite painful to read.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 20:33, 1 reply)
ill keep this shortish
I used to play county league football. In my last ever game we were short of a goalkeeper. Although I'm a defender, I'm handy between the sticks, so I volunteered.
Let's say I played superbly well, kept a clean sheet, and we won 1-0. Which it true BTW.
Midway through the second half during my cat like antics, I came flying out, threw myself in front of the approaching attacker, took the ball cleanly, but also took a foot, studs up to my groin. Not being one of these girlie types, I picked myself up and carried on.
After the game, going to get into the showers I discovered what damage had been done. 2 perfect tram line cuts down my winky! These weren't your normal little stud marks. They were proper split cuts. Showering stung. Antiseptic wipes bought tears to my eyes, but also tears of laughter for the rest of the team. The only thing that stopped the stinging and throbbing was about 6 pints. I also then had the bottle to not to hospital to get them looked at. 4 butterflies and a bit of sniggering later,I was patched up. For 2 weeks my sex life was more non existent than normal, and I still have the scars to prove this is no lie! :)
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 19:32, Reply)
I once hurt my twat.

(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 19:09, 8 replies)
Blunt force trauma
Once upon a time, myself and a former partner were engaging in some horizontal entertainment, her lying on her front and me on top, like a snake climbing a rock. The lady also happened to be helping herself along as well as being prodded by my teenage member, and this is where it all went wrong (hey! That was last week's question)...

Anybody who has attempted the position I have described will know that it is difficult to maintain at high speeds and, inevitably, I tried to gain too much leverage for her pleasure, ended up disengaging and thrusting forwards, straight into her womanly fingernail.

And it hurt, it really fucking hurt. Blood filled the prophylactic and I ran like a man possessed to the bathroom in order to dunk my wounded lovestick into a bowl of warm water.

My friends still refer to my injury, or BFT as they have taken to calling it, to this day.

Length? Shrank rapidly on impact and about 5 days on the sidelines.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 18:14, Reply)
The legendary 'Fatty' Hunter
Used to know a bloke called 'Fatty' Hunter. For a long while I didn't even know his first name was Dave and even after he lost a shed load of weight he was stil known as Fatty.

As a young adult he had to have a circumcision which, naturally, went wrong and he had to have a follow up operation which involved having stitches around the rim where his foreskin used to be. He was in a lot of pain afterwards and couldn't wear any tight fitting clothes.

A few days after the op he was at home with his girlfriend, just laying on the floor watching TV. He got up to get a beer and as he stood up one of the stitches caught on the flimsy dressing gown he was wearing. He didn't realise this until he finished standing up and the stitches had all pulled out and were attached to the material of the dressing gown.

The upshot of this was that he was left with a zig zag crenellation of scar tissue around the shaft of his penis.

This is not the main part of the story though. A few years later he was on the way home from the pub and was dared to jump a high hedge. Now 'Fatty' was a tall lad although as the name implies, not athletically gifted. His attempt at hedge hurdling ended with him straddling the holly hedge and being impaled on the leaves. After a visit to A&E to have bits of foliage removed from, and stitches added to his undercarriage he was right as rain..... or so he thought.

A few weeks passed and the wound wasn't healing, in fact pus was seeping from it and smelling more than usual. A return visit to the Doctor saw the wound opened up again and a small piece of twig and part of a leaf removed from under the skin before more stitches were added in this tender area.

This happened more than 25 years ago but to this day I still refer to the shiny area of skin betwixt the cornhole and scrotum as the 'Hunter's Patch' in honour of the great man.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 16:39, Reply)

(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 14:19, 45 replies)
I tried masturbation, once.
Never again :(
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 14:14, Reply)
don't climb gates in a dress
i don't remember much from my childhood but this is still a vivid memory of when i was about 7. being a country bumpkin I had to climb over a lot of gates, so I got quite fast and generally climbed up to the top and then jumped over the top bar to the ground on the other side.
one day i climbed a big wooden five bar gate in my school summer dress and jumped over the top as usual but this time the front of my dress had caught on a nail. Instead of landing on the ground i landed into a wedgie (or should it be vedgie?) as my dress went between my legs and back up over onto the front of the gate with my full body weight resting on my fanny. I am sure it must have been as painful as being kicked in the balls!
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 12:59, Reply)
As a result of a brain tumour, I have become partially disabled and cannot walk. This means that to use the toilet I have to get onto a commode and be wheeled over it.To do this, you transfer between your bed or wheel chair using what is known as a ‘Banana Board’ which is a boomerang shaped piece of ply board One end is pushed under your bum cheek and the other end is rested on the thing to which you are transferring. To make the transfer you shift your weight forward over your knees until you are partially standing move your body in the direction you want to go then sit back on the board again Most of the time this works OK, but occasionally you get problems. Problem 1 happens when the person inserting the board under you misjudges the position of your bollocks and tries to slice them off. Problem 2 happens when you sit down after moving along the board and slip back onto the front edge of the board crushing your nuts. Problem 3 happens when you are getting off the commode, As you are trying to move along it, the board slips squeezing your nads between the edge of the board and the edge of the hole in the commode. This one is the worst because of the time it takes to free yourself. Did this today with the help of Mrs Arsenic. My take on this is that although I’ve had them disconnected, I do want them to remain attached!
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 10:24, 1 reply)
Not Me
A bloke I knew from the pub was rushed into hospital with a gangrenous bollock. Twisted testicles or torsion of the testicles it's called and it's more common than you might think. Of course, it had to come off and the surgeon asked if he'd like a false bollock so his tackle wouldn't look odd.

"Only if you can put a zip in it so I can take it out in the pub" said mate.
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 8:20, 8 replies)
Caught on camera...
A couple of years ago I was on holiday in Scotland. The in-laws had come along as well, and one afternoon we were all on the local beach, mucking about with a Nerf thing - a sort of foam rugby ball with a tail. I was trying to catch some action shots with my camera. One of the results can be seen here -
If you look carefully, you can see the Nerf thingy, just up and to the left of my father-in-law. Because I was concentrating on taking the photo, I wasn't paying enough attention to the trajectory the ball was taking, and about a second after this was taken, it connected very solidly with my testicles.
I am told that I was in the foetal position before I even hit the floor, much to the amusement of everyone except my young daughter, who came running up to make sure I was ok.
"Are you ok, Dad? Dad? Dad, why won't you talk? Dad, did it hit you in the dangly bits? Dad, what *are* the dangly bits? Dad? Dad?"
(, Sat 9 Mar 2013, 0:17, 1 reply)
Not mine (thank fuck) - altho I do have a few.
Many years ago a friend of mine called Tom decided to get himself a genital piercing.
A Prince Albert to be precise. In a market in Goa about a week before he arrived home on New Years Eve.
To the uninitiated a PA is a piercing that enters the tip of the penis, goes longways down the bottom of the glans and usually exits at the frenulum. Owing to the fact that it goes thru some serious nerves and the urethra it must be well looked after.

During the evening of fun and frivolity at which I'm getting very wankered and slightly toasted, my mate I hadn't seen in over a year sidles up and mentions his new addition to his body. Now Tom & I have been besties for many, many years - we've been there, done that and got the "I fucked that" t-shirts. Often together. So modesty isn't really an issue with us. "I have got to see this!" thinks me to myself so off we go to my room to have a look.
Cue my then gf Renee entering our room nonplussed to find Tom with his kekks around his ankles, me on my knees in front of him admiring his cock. (That, people is another story for another day). She took it all in her stride, bless her and came for a peek. Then she uttered the fateful words...
"Should it be that swollen and purple?" Trust me when I say, NO fnar, fnar.

Now Tom's spent a week bathing in India (probably the fucking Ganges knowing him!) and the a 14 odd hr. flight home where hes cabbed it luggage and all straight to my place.
He looks down and a small squeak escapes his mouth. Renee goes out to find her friend Shelly who just happens (at this hour) to be a very drunk and trippy nurse. Shelly smiles at Tom, gives him a peck on the cheek to say hello and 'gets down to join the party' - by this stage our trio kneeling around Tom must look a little interesting if nothing else. "Oh." she says. She asks Tom if he's had problems weeing. "Dunno, not really." he stammers quietly. "Well -" slurs Shelly, "It's my professional opinion that you get that looked at asap - the wound site is infected and I'd guess you've probably also got a uti if not bladder infection."

Tom needs a few stiff drinks and a medicinal joint once he's re-robed. I took him to Emergency on New Years Day. From there eventually he was transferred to a private hospital (rich Mummy & Daddy) where he spent his 1st week back in Oz with several full blown exotic infections and on numerous drips to treat them. They took out the bar he had in, and he's since managed to father a lovely little girl and afaik he can still piss and fuck effectively.
If you must let people poke your willy with sharp things; make sure you at least witness them taking the implements out of an autoclave and despite the pain I'd bathe the site in disinfectant regularly till it was all healed.

The bar was surgical steel, about 12mm with two screw on balls, one at each end.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 23:18, 5 replies)
Like most men, I spend a lot of time wondering whether a transscrotal piercing would suit me.
Naturally enough, I thought I'd try to recreate the look with the help of some neodymium magnets.
It looked alright, in a bolt-through-your-knackers kind of way, but quickly began to ache as the unrelenting pressure of the startlingly strong magnets continued to crush my nutsack.
After some unfocused and unsuccessful gouging as I tried to get some leverage with fingernails, it occurred to me to try using pliers to remove the magnets.
I waddled and winced my way round the house, managing to locate one set of pliers and one rusty old monkey wrench.
The pain was becoming quite worrying and between dizzy spells, I found myself wondering quite what I'd say if I ended up having to go to casualty.
After a couple of attempts where I managed to grip some skin along with rare earth metal, I finally got a good hold with the monkey wrench.
By now, there was a fair bit of blood so getting a decent grip on the other magnet with the pliers was far from easy but I did it and finally managed to extricate my pods.
The bleeding stopped within minutes and the swelling was almost gone after two or three days.
So if you’re ever wondering whether this piercing would suit you, now you know how to find out.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 21:41, Reply)
There's no way we can know that Dr Shambolic is drenched in sweat shaking with rage at all these post missing his comments
but he definitely is.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 21:23, 30 replies)
Home economics.
I was fucking an ironing board when it collapsed and squashed my cock.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 21:05, Reply)
Snapped banjo string at full speed on a white sofa
White stair carpet, white walls, white curtains. Long night with the bleach, and a couple months recovery before anything other than water went near it again.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 21:05, 3 replies)
Before all this compensation culture kicked in...
When I was in my 20s, I went to have a vasectomy. All went smoothly, I was wide awake, the doc even asked if I wanted to watch.
Then all of a sudden "Oops!"
"What do you mean oops?" I said.
"Oh it's OK, it's just the thread has snapped and your tube has slipped back inside your scrotum. I'll just have to go in and find it. You may feel some pressure but no pain."
He was right, no pain, but a curious sensation that an elephant had climbed into my ballsack and was tunneling its way to my arsehole.
All finished and everything was ok. Apart from the six months of pure agony due to recurring infections.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 20:13, 1 reply)
I once hurt my balls.

(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 19:30, 5 replies)
A tickling sensation
When I was five years old, a friend and I used a pocket knife to try and cut down a Coyote Willow. Coyote Willows are technically trees, but they are very small. Each individual trunk is like a switch. They are very tough to cut.

We lost the knife in the leaf litter and underbrush, so we started yanking on the half-cut Coyote Willow to try and knock it down. We lost our grip, and landed together in a heap. Surprisingly, I located the pocket knife. With a distinct tickling sensation, the blade sliced into my bollocks.

I went home and explained the tickling sensation to my mother. Even though she was never eager to take us kids to the doctor, she acted with unseemly haste on this day. Apparently there was no serious damage.

The tickling sensation returned when I entered adolescence. My father had recently instructed me about the birds and bees and explained that he was always available for guidance. I explained the tickling sensation to him, and he howled with lurid amusement. (I thus learned early that parents are never to be trusted with this kind of information).

I never had kids. Not exactly sure why not.
(, Fri 8 Mar 2013, 18:29, Reply)

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