I'm glad nobody saw meHave you ever done something, realised how stupid or embarrassing it was and then looked about to see if anyone watching? Did you get away with it?
Suggested by Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic, chosen by YOU
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 15:49)
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The French Connection…This happened well over 10 years ago – and not even in this country, but I still think about it every now and again.
We were just 18 years old, and following a semi-successful final stint at our respective schools and colleges, a couple of my dearest chums and I decided to celebrate our new found independence (and impending adulthood) by spending the approaching bank holiday weekend pressing our noses into what we considered to be a veritable smorgasboard of culture, history, art and ambience this side of, well, anywhere really.
Ah, gay Paris.
We were there for spiritual fulfillment, and our decision to embark on such a trip was in no way down to the fact that it was a cheapo weekend, coupled with the fact that we had heard from friends and relatives that this place was a proper ‘scutter-central’, and that within five minutes of stumbling off the boat at Calais we would be up to the greasy gizzards in top notch, stripey-shirt-and-onions-round-the-neck wearing, rusty-bike-riding, frothy ‘Flange-a-la-Francais’.
Oh yes, we were there for the museums…or whatever.
So fast forward to the day in hand, and to be honest it started quite badly. We got piss-tarded to the ring-piece on the ferry, and the heavy boaks we roared over the side did little to add to our efforts at a ‘classy’ demeanour. A few hours later we were subsequently hoofed off the coach on the outskirts of the City of Light - this was a bit earlier than planned but as the driver eloquently put it, we ‘shouldn’t be such twats then’.
We were stranded, so did the first constructive thing that leapt to our minds. We tossed a coin – heads = filthy bar, tails = filthy strip joint.
Tails never fails – strip joint it was!
We hailed a cab whose driver seemed to have had his sense of humour abandon him at birth; he didn’t find our ‘Clousaeu-esqe’ accents and jokes regarding ‘cheese-eating surrender-monkeys’ even half as amusing as we did. His loss I suppose.
As we pootled along down what seemed like one bloody big straight road after another, we soon found ourselves near the ‘Place de la Concorde’ – and we proceeded to grunt, chortle, and rubbed our hands together in anticipation of the rudey-gyrate-a-fest that was surely just moments away, I happened to glance out of the window and was instantly transfixed…
She was stunning, from her brown hair in a neat bob, to the pencil skirt and delicate shoes, she was the very essence of sophistication. As she stood seductively smoking a cigarette, seemingly alone, outside an embarrassingly stereotypical-looking cafe I found myself making a decision so bum-chewingly impulsive that I could scarcely believe the garbled words splurging forth from my own cake-hole.
“Stop the car!” I squawked awkwardly, and as my mates sat with mouths agape I clamboured out and began to explain my rash actions.
“Leave me here”, I continued, pointing back down the road. “You see her?, she’s the girl of my dreams – If I don’t at least try and fire-in to her I will never forgive myself. THIS is why we are here, I’m sure of it!”
My buddies glared at each other perplexed, before Carl finally broke the silence…
“You dozy bell-end…” he exclaimed: “…you’ve got no fucking chance!”.
“I don’t care!” I replied, “I’ve got to try. I’ll meet you at the B&B Later on. Wish me luck”
And with their derisory comments, general insults, hand gestures and sneering guffaws of laughter ringing in my shell-likes, I began sprinting down the boulevard – where destiny was waiting for me.
As I finally approached her I was speechless with pure admiration at the vision sat before me. Eventually she spoke first: “Can I ‘elp you?” She enquired. (She immediately realised I was English, I’m one hanky-on-the-head and a football riot away from the archetypal scum-of-the-earth-johnny-Englander)
I stammered worse than George VI with full-on Parkinsons, on one of those wobbly belt exercise machine things: “E-e-e-rrrrm…I…I….Was w-w-w-wondering if I could b-b-buy you a drink?” I enquired meekly.
She looked me up and down…..I sighed with admiration at her sheer beauty as she answered with one of those famous French nonchalant shrugs of the shoulders. “I suppose….Oui”
My heart skipped a beat as I sat down, ordered a bottle of la-de-da plonk blanc (what else?), and asked her name – which was ‘Estelle’. As we began to speak we found that although she was 3 years older than me, we had much in common. We liked the same music, and shared the same sense of humour – this was too perfect.
Soon, the hours were ticking by, but each one seemed like fleeting minutes that I never wanted to end...but the night was going to get better still. As the conversation began to turn slightly steamier and more suggestive (She started to talk about the ‘sexual thrill of danger’, ‘alfresco sex’, and how she got off on the possibility of getting caught whilst being on the arse end of a pork-portion in public) I realised that I had to seize the moment. I leaned forward for a kiss, and to my intense delight (and attentive undercarriage), she reciprocated. Result!
As our wine stained tongues wrestled and intermingled in the finest example of Détente ever experienced this side of Alpha Centauri, she suggested that we go back to her place, and she took my hand as she guided me to a backstreet where her car was waiting.
Although I was desperate not to ruin the mood, I stopped as we approached her little foreign shit-box mini-hatchback effort and decided to do the decent thing. “Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” I asked tentatively. “We will be fine”, she assured me. “We will take ze back roads.” She spoke with a soft, calming voice and then kissed me again. It was wrong, I know, but I wasn’t going to argue.
Unfortunately, fate then suddenly decided that it had given me all the good luck I was going to get for that night. In my slightly rat-arsed state, I instinctively open the dirty white door and climbed into the wrong side of the car...Yep...The driver’s side.
Before I could say ‘I’ve only had a couple of lessons’, Estelle was thanking me for my chivalry, before telling me that she didn’t live too far away, and that she would ‘make the journey worth my while…’
‘Deliciously ominous’ I thought, and once again, I kept silent and chose to ignore common sense for the far more overpowering feeling that I might soon be getting my balls wet.
Before long, we were gently razzing down the avenues and boulevards as I desperately tried to look like I knew what I was doing. Despite it being long past midnight, the streets were still packed with traffic, and I was concentrating as hard as I could to just fit in with the flow of cars and bikes as they sped around me.
“Go faster” she said, with a breathless excitement in her voice. Remembering our earlier conversations I decided it couldn’t hurt to put my foot down a bit, and she watched with slightly-mental glee as the speedo (and my cock) started to rise.
By now I had no idea where I was going, but before I could ask, Estelle had unzipped my flies and began to shovel heapfuls of my grateful cock into her mouth, and as her lips gently caressed my shaft I quickly came…to the conclusion that I suddenly wasn't particularly fussed about where our impending destination would be. I also noticed that with every rev of the engine, this 'gagging-for-it-Gaul' was showing her appreciation by sucking harder and ‘throating deeper’ until I thought I could hold back no more…
Relaxing into the standard mong-tastic gurn that proceeds the emptying of my gonad-gloy, I leaned my head slightly to the left…
…and saw a bunch of twats on bikes copping a fucking eyeful of my sexeh exploits as they kept up with the car!
As the pervy, snail-quaffing fuck-knuckles tried to stick their beret-clad barnets against my driver's window I was quite taken aback. “FUCK OFF!” I bellowed at them, pointlessly waving my fist in their general direction as they zipped around me, jostling with each other for a better view.
Estelle, somewhat unsurprisingly, became aware of the commotion, then suddenly seemed to be getting off on the situation even more. “Go faster!” She purred, urging me on whilst tugging and squeezing on my luncheon-meat truncheon in such a fashion that I was convinced she was expecting some sort of 'fleshy banana' was eventually going to shoot out of it.
I put the hammer down and sped down the road. 'Where are the fucking police?' I thought to myself before wisely reasoning that it was probably for the best if the old 'Gendarmerie' actually stayed in their holes for the night…I would sort this out myself.
As my speed increased, Estelle’s raging horniness seemed to multiply ever further, and she started stripping off, jiggling about and pleasuring herself as she gorged on my spam javelin, (which by now had a helmet so shiny I could see my reflection in it), and of course this just served to attract the biker’s attention even more. Again, I was hardly going to ask her to stop, but as we sped into the Pont de l'Alma tunnel I clapped eyes on what I considered to be the last straw…
There was another fucking car keeping up with us and the people inside were watching too! particularly the couple of 'enthusiastic' voyeurs in the back seat, who were gawping out of the window, and clearly enjoying a full-on, ringside seat of my nudey-noshing mobile sex-show action!
I had decided that I had had quite enough of this...besides, my straining love-spuds were poised to go off like a cheap firework. I pulled Estelle’s head back so she could catch the full facial 'finale', and consequently let fly a splurging cacophony of jizz streaming out of my pink-veined, spitting king cobra, right into her mouth. Although she must have been expecting it, it still seemed to catch her by surprise and Estelle twitched, then recoiled somewhat, and as she grabbed at the steering wheel to regain her balance...she sent our car careering into the other one!
We only made a light contact before I regained control, but it was obviously enough to put the other driver off a bit, and as I grabbed the wheel again and ‘gave it the beans’ (in more ways than one), I took the lead, sped out of the tunnel and into the night.
We didn't check to see if they were still following us for a while, but as my spent, exhausted, and expertly polished knob finally began to cough out nought but dust, I gave my rear-view mirror a quick glance and was relieved to discover that our peeping-Tom admirers were nowhere to be seen. We had gotten away with it!
Of course, once things had settled down later I was worried that there might be some possible recourse in the future, maybe CCTV or something, but luckily for me it appears that nobody saw us in that little white Fiat Uno, so it just got forgotten about.
Strangely, I never found out who was in that other car, I would have liked to hear what excuse they'd no doubt invent for their behaviour. But you know what? quite frankly, I couldn’t give a hovering fuck. 'Cos whoever it was, and whatever happened to them…that’ll teach ‘em.
The dirty leering bastards.
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 1 Feb 2011, 13:58,
18 replies)
You're one Maddie joke away from a lynch mob.I approve and condone this post.
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:03, closed)
Just about to readThis must be the calamity you were talking about just before Chrimbo...Sweet
Alas no but another classic, only saw the punchline coming right at the end...*click*
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:05, closed)
Erm, no...No It isn't. Soz.
That one is still waiting for the appropriate QotW...besides, loads of people saw me do that so it definitely doesn't apply this week :(
But hey, at least this one isn't a pun...well, not really.
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:07,
closed)
Clicking 'I like this' hard.Welcome back.
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:11, closed)
Thank you...It's probably riddled with grammatical errors and the like, I wrote it in a hurry while I was doing a conference call that I've just finished.
Once I can summon up the strength to read it again I'll go through and prolly edit the fuck out of it.
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:13,
closed)
Well worth unlurking for!*clicks*
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:13, closed)
An unlurk from me too**click**
(, Wed 2 Feb 2011, 15:17, closed)
See now, THIS is how Sex Bullshit SHOULD be done.Well played.
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Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:23,
closed)
That's what I was thinking...I must say that I'm particularly surprised that the blessed Fail archive isn't full-up-to-the back wheels with my various spewings*, so I didn't want to say anything.
*Then again - it's surely just a matter of time before AB creates a whole section called , 'Shite similies, pitifuly over convoluted descriptions...the occasional poem, and wank puns*'...with just a link to my profile.
** Or just 'TL:DR'
I know with every post I do I'm skating on thinner ice... :(
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 2 Feb 2011, 14:22,
closed)
Naaaah.It's obvious that you're not trying to be believed; hence it's archive-proof. Ish.
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Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Wed 2 Feb 2011, 15:29,
closed)
Magnifucque....my Vin Diesel cried a salty tear of joy! Also, the in-joke drove me up the wall. Was a big hit. Smashing..
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:46, closed)
fucking brilliantall
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:49, closed)
Fucking genie-arseyou had me going there. cunt.
'Clicks'
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 14:53, closed)
A hearty welcome back!Great story - took me a mo to twig. I was too busy looking out for the pun at the end!
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Ugi , it's a game of give and cake, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 15:48,
closed)
More of a parody I guess.Excuse the pun.
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 15:58, closed)
yay and wootClicks for this
"which by now had a helmet so shiny I could see my reflection in it"
that made me spit out my cig with lols
(, Tue 1 Feb 2011, 16:54, closed)
Nice!It's been far too long since we've had a proper Diana joke on here.
Well done. You've been sorely missed.
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The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 1 Feb 2011, 17:49,
closed)
Cheers for thatI'm a bit slow this morning, needed this to spot it.
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The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Wed 2 Feb 2011, 9:47,
closed)
Genius..I like this, lots, I may even go and create a sock puppet account so I can like it again
(, Wed 2 Feb 2011, 8:43, closed)
Ahhh, missed you Poof Lake!Clickies for you, nicely told.
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SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Wed 2 Feb 2011, 9:43,
closed)
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