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This is a question Shame

Some people get off on the exhibitionism, but this was pure lust. I'm not proud, but I did once have sex on Portsmouth beach at 2am in the fog. I got a nasty cold, shingle _everywhere_ and have never, ever gone back to Portsmouth. The shame.

There are things you boast about, and then there's Portsmouth beach... what are you ashamed of having done?

(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:16)
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Post piss up & meeting her parents.
My g/f's father and stepmum had invited me to a meal at a posh restaurant as a belated birthday present. I was under strict instructions to get to her place no later than midday to be picked up and whisked off to charm the in-laws.

No problem. Except that the night before I'd gone out with some mates and got absolutely munted. I'd crawled back to my flat and decided that I was hungry, so I cooked up a one off creation known as "Quorn Jalfrezi" which tasted pretty dire and left a mess on the hob that resembled a Glastonbury portaloo.

Next morning I felt ill. So ill in fact that I gagged after drinking a sip of water. I grabbed a bath, put on my finest white Ben Sherman shirt and made for g/f's house. I stopped for indigestion tablets on the way and felt fine...

An hour later, I was sitting down for starters and wishing I was still in bed. One bite of a bread roll had me scarpering to the bog. The lack of signage in the posh restaurant meant that I stopped in my tracks, puked up horrible red stained, quorn ridden chunder in full view of most of the diners (although out of sight of g/f & co). My shirt was covered in Jalfrezi sauce and I smelt like the floor of a kebab house.

Blushing in shame, I made my way to the toilet, guided by a waitress who could barely conceal her disgust. I washed my shirt in the sink, dried it under the drier and did my best to mop the vomit off my jeans and shoes.

I skulked back to my seat safe in the knowledge that I'd got away with it by the skin of my teeth and having spewed, could enjoy a meal and turn on the charm. Which I did....

Feeling smug on my way back home being driven by g/f's Dad I felt a slight twinge in my stomach. Oh no. The next ten seconds were the longest in my life. I asked him to pull over, which he did. I grasped in desperation at the door handle, pleading with g/f's dad to unlock the door quickly, with my other hand clamped over my mouth.


The door opened, but a full two seconds too late. I'd boffed up all over the inside of the car door and to add insult to injury, a large tomcat sauntered over to the now stationary car and started feasting on the chunks of vomit on the pavement.

Oh, the shame
(, Fri 25 Nov 2005, 12:36, closed)

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