The smell of baby oil gives me the shivers
And if you want the story why...

(It is a repost, but the QOTW ain't exactly thrilling my cotton socks off, and I don't have any other weird phobias. It is a long one, but it's worth it - as the black man said to the nun)

First off, I'd like to say that I have never told anyone about this. Even, now, in total anonymity, I'm cringing as I type this.

Let me set the scene - I was 18, had recently stopped hanging around with my closest friends (for reasons I can't quite remember now), in a job I hated, when I made a sudden spontaneous decision to take a week-long trip to Amsterdam. I booked the flights, managed to get the holidays short notice, packed up and flew off.

Let me say at this point that you should never go on holiday by yourself. It is probably the single worst holiday I've had, and I've been caravaning in Wales for fuck sake.

Anyway, after wandering around feeling lost and bored, and after getting far more stoned than was good for me, I stumbled across the Red Light District. I haven't seen a bigger collection of ropey-looking underdressed tramps since my last big night out in Glasgow. As a horny teenager, however, I was in a moral dilemma. Would I pay for sex? The inner dispute took about three seconds to come up with the answer : Hell yeah!

The only problem was, I couldn't decide which 'lucky lady' I was gonna have some fun with. Did I want, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, old or young? It's like you've been asked to choose which whiney-faced James-Blunt-carbon-copy singer-songwriter should be beaten to death with their own arm. Too much choice...

I decided to go with the one that caught my eye, that seemed to stand out. As I turned a corner, one of the girls in the windows performed a dance with her hands at her waist, firing them like pistols. This made me laugh, so I stepped up and asked how much.

"50 eauros dahrling" she said in a dodgy Italian accent.

"Lead on" said I.

We moved into the back room, a squalid, yet somehow clinical affair. The place stank of sweat and baby oil. I handed over the money to my hired whore, taking the time to look her over as she counted it.

She was tall, leggy, with long brunette hair, strong features, and a very full bra. She looked good, though I now put this down to a combination of bad lighting and the number of joints I had smoked throughout the day. I was wasted.

"You get undreassed, dahrling?" she said huskily. At this point, I did notice her voice was lower than what I was used to, but figured it must be the same in all Mediterranean women.

I promptly stripped, and joined her on the leather couch. She then proceeded to start sucking on my already hard member, without using a condom. I lay back, enjoying the sensation. It shamefully remains, to this day, one of the best blowjobs I have ever had.

After a while I decided I was ready for action. I tapped her on the head and motioned I was ready for sex. After helping me on with the condom (it's worth repeating that I was pretty fucking wasted) she proceeded to turn her back to me, took my cock in her hand, and helped guide it into what I thought was her 'lady-chamber' (or, for all you foul-mothed fuckers out there, her cunt).

I was really getting into the sex, thrusting away, and she was responding well, making all the right noises. I felt myself approaching the point of no return, so decided it would be a good time to change positions. I stopped, and indicated with what I'm sure was a ridiculous hand motion for her to turn over onto her front.

She looked at me uncertainly. "You suare?" she asked. "What about..." She nodded downwards, I looked down, and her hand seemed to be covering something over her crotch. At this point, I still hadn't cottoned on. I actually said "What about what?" in a genuinely confused tone.

'She' removed her hand, and at this point I probably don't have to tell you what was under there. If you haven't guessed it already, I'll spell it out for you. It was a cock and fucking balls, meat and two veg, George Bush and his advisers.

She/he looked at me with concerned eyes. "Is okay?"

A million questions swarmed through me at once. Does this make me gay? Can I ever look at myself in the mirror again? Is it too late to ask for my 50 euros back?

Then I realised I had 5 minutes left, and I didn't have enough money for another actual girl. So I shrugged and asked her/him to finish me off with a blowjob. I'll say it again, I was really fucking wasted.

As she/he was sucking away I glanced down and noticed her/his 'full' bra was actually full of toilet paper, and, to make matters worse, the long brunette hair was a long brunette wig. This wasn't even a transsexual, it was a guy in drag.

Somehow, I closed my eyes and climaxed. Afterwards, I couldn't put my clothes on fast enough, and as I was going through the door, all I could say was "That was...interesting"

I went to my hotel room, and took the longest shower I have ever had in my life. The smell of baby oil seemed to linger for days.

Upon returning home, whenever anyone asked me how my holiday was, I said "Fine" and quickly changed the subject. To this day, the smell of baby oil makes me quesy.

So now you know the reasons behind my baby oil phobia. Just don't tell anyone.

Please?




P.S I don't apologise for length, but she bloody well should have.


P.P.S. Is there an actual scientific name for the fear of baby oil? If not, any suggestions?
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 23:58, 6 replies)

you
fucking
win
( Barry Chuckle III - the troll with a soul., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 0:05, closed)

Not entirely the same
But I'm not overly keen on the smell of baby oil after an ex-girlfriend decided to give me a massage and slip a finger up my arsehole.

I don't care if she wanted to try something new, you don't do that! Hell I MIGHT even of let her if she'd asked first!
(UranusHertz is interested in astronomy and electronics, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 0:15, closed)

Wow.
That gets a click.
I'm sort of impressed you asked him to finish. Then again i've not been stoned recently, since I was about 8.
(Old stoner family friend with MS, fresh baked cakes and an evil grin)
(Sundayturkey has the biggest mug of tea, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 1:00, closed)

'George Bush and his advisors'
Hahaahaa!

You poor man! And you think this is a good place for therapy do you!?
( ..wil, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 10:26, closed)

FEEL A BIT SICK
i used to do a lot of weed. I've been stoned a LOT.

ive been so stoned i stood for 20 mins in the doorway to our kitchen because i couldnt decide what to do next.

i've eaten a whole packet of weetabix in one sitting with munchies

i've laughed so much i gave myself a blinding headache

Ive listened to fleetwood mac - and actually enjoyed it

ive been so paranoid i've closed the blinds locked the door and refused to answer it all day

but i have NEVER been stoned enough accidentally to bang a bloke

not judging, just saying
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:27, closed)

Infantoleophobia...
...sounds about right
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 22:54, closed)