Sssssssssst
A few years ago when I'd just moved into my own place, I was loving the freedom of being able to walk around stark bollock naked for most of my waking hours. This meant I did everything with no clothes on, cooked, cleaned, ironed clothes.. (I think you can see where this is going).

One day I had to leave my shit-tip of a flat to go for a job interview, so out comes the shirt and pants, creased as fuck as they'd been folded up in a box for the past 3 months. Out comes the ironing board, and the iron- now I'm stood there ironing my shirt with my pecker dangling around all over the place, sneezed violently, iron in hand.. Mid-sneeze my knob ends up on the ironing board and i went straight over the poor little fucker with the iron. I still have the scar 5 years later.

=(
(addikt, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 10:56, 1 reply)

pics
or it didn't happen.
(Hitler's other ball. R soul., Mon 16 Mar 2009, 10:40, closed)