Here we go...
Two pea-roasts of fairly shameful things involving my cock.

1) I'm bipolar. Specifically type 2. It comes from a long history of mentals in my family, so I've not so much as developed something new as been passed the baton on in my family. The fact that I'm bipolar will come in to play shortly.

This was early last year, back in February, when I had split up with my long term girlfriend, and tried to off myself in the canal in Chester because I had essentially had a breakdown over the period of three days and had cracked quite successfully. I lived with two other students at the time, both girls, and we were all fairly open with each other and used to each others habits a lot of the time.

I must also admit that I had gone from a state of being highly sexed (woo!) to getting none whatsoever. As I was a bit of a social reject at the time, having completely lost the plot along the way and being diagnosed with being bipolar type 2 (which is treatable but incurable), I decided to spend most of my time in bed drinking and wanking. I had my laptop, 8 meg wireless broadband, an almost limitless supply of vodka thanks to parents saying "Here is £150, we know you've had a really rough time lately, go out and treat yourself", so I was set up for the above plan.

Apart from one thing.

I never tended to lock my door unless I was going out. My housemates, I'll call them R and B because that amuses me and it's also true, would wander in most of the time asking for this, that and the other, and I would generally give them what they wanted (fnarr fnarr). About three days into what would become my worst drinking session, and my last (I quit after it and have been sober since), I decide that it would be awesome to have yet another wank. So I do so. Did I mention that I've been drinking for about three days straight? So you may imagine the state I'm in. I had also somehow cut my cock on my nails, so I tended to ooze blood a bit.

The cringeworthy moment is when my fitter housemate, B, wanders in, and sees me very, very drunk on my bed, naked from the waist down, bleeding, my cock held in some sort of death-grip, and me gurning spectacularly. *Cringe* She left my room pretty damn quickly.

2) About a month after the first incident, I am once again in my room wanking. However, unlike before, I am now on proper medication, citalopram and zopiclone (cita is an anti-depressant and zopi are sleeping pills) as opposed to alcohol. So I'm fairly hopped up on the above pills, and not entirely with it. A wee bit stoned, you might say.

Somehow I fail to notice that one of my housemates brothers, we shall call him W, has turned up. Given that my bedroom door was about 5 foot away from the front door, you may begin to see just how fucked I was on these pills. I had learnt my lesson from the first incident, and locked my door whenever I was wanking, so people now knocked on my door if they wanted to speak to me.

So I hear a knock on my door just as I hit the vinegar strokes.

"What is it?" I call, boxers still around ankles and todger still firmly in hand just as I finish up into my hand.
"W's here, he wants to say hi to you." I hear B shout through the door.

Shit. At this point, my mind clears enough for me to drag my boxers and jeans up, do my belt and flies up, and for me to open the door and say hi. However, my mind hasn't cleared enough for me to remember that I should have wiped my hand really clean as opposed to a quick wipe across the back of my jeans. I remember this too late. There was an audible squelch as we shook hands.

Apologies for length here, it just got outta hand.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 14 Mar 2009, 20:55, 1 reply)

Hurrah....
...another Bipolar!
Not sure what type I am but I know I've got it "for life".
Effexor/lithium working well.
I too am either a randy bugger, or a complete frigid monkey.
( jonbontempi, Sun 15 Mar 2009, 22:00, closed)