A couple of weeks ago
I was in back alley pub in Edinburgh enjoying the festivities of the infamous fringe festival. I decided I'd had enough of the smell of stale sweat/booze/piss and headed off up the stairs for a cigarette. I emerged onto the street to be greeted by a hefty, gorilla like female wafting her skirt feverishly whilst exclaiming "awww, am fooking stinkin' the night".

Length? I'm pretty sure her dong was bigger than mine
(GroggyNodbog, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 14:44, Reply)

rachelswipe
It's true, I have three or four ingrowing arse hairs that turn into abcesses daily.

I currently have six on my face from not shaving this morning.
( Kroney, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 14:44, Reply)

as a baby lawyer
you do several seats whilst training, growing fangs, drinking blood, losing friends, abandoning social life etc.

one of my stints was in personal injury. many of the witness statements went into far too much detail. particularly memorable ones are:

"my foot looked like a badly crushed animal and had to be amputated at the scene"

"the glass severed the nerves in my lips and now i dribble food and saliva all day and can't feel that i am doing it. my wife refuses to kiss me"

"my eyeball was hanging out of my socket and i could see it with the other eye"

but by far the worst was when my boss was recovering after an operation on his lower back. or so we all thought. it was only when he rang me and asked me to pull an email out of his sentbox and action it... that i clicked on the one below it... and found the very graphic description to his mate about what had happened.

being a fat man and a hairy one, his doctor had told him to get more exercise. doing this had made him sweat. this had inflamed an ingrowing hair inside his arse, which had basically turned into an abscess that had to be burst and drained. i think his description said: "it's like sitting on fire".

i was retching and laughing for about an hour after reading that. he was off work for about 6 weeks overall, and had to sit on a squashy ring thing for ages when he came back. i couldn't tell anyone or he'd have known i'd read the wrong email; it was torture.

worryingly, though, i told my friend who said her brother had the same thing after too much lacrosse. apparently it's fairly common when men sweat......... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewo....... ingrowing arse hair boils................. surely not.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 14:41, Reply)

If you've ever seen the programme
Chewin' the Fat on BBC Scotland, you'll be familiar with the air traffic controllers who are always taking the piss and playing outrageous pranks on each other instead of directing aircraft.

Well I know someone who works in that very job, and I think they modelled the characters on him. Anyway, he was saying that one day the subject of conversation got round to things which they had all had stuck up the bum.

Sandy was the only person there never to have had anything inserted in his rectal orifice. Others had had doctors' fingers, cameras and various other sundry items inserted.

For the record, although I do not work in ATC, I have had a doctor's finger, several suppositories, fingers of ladies, and once my own digit inserted in my anus (the latter just to see what it was like, but I didn't much care for it. Nor indeed did I much enjoy anything else being jammed in there.)

Woo - TMI from me.

Edit: I also discovered during a lunchtime dump, that I have my boxers on back to front today. But that's more like irrelevant information.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 13:51, Reply)

In memory of Legless...
First post, be gentle with me...

I have known Legless for about four years. Twice I have seen him rendered helpless...

First time me and the sweary other half (aka Tourettes) had called into the Tap for a swift pint with Legless and his then gf. As is usual when getting together, much humour ensued, to the point where Tourettes was sat, with a gob full of beer trying desperately not to choke on it or spit it out (cos that would be a waste).

On seeing her predicament, I looked at her, saw her silent plea for help, and said "come on pet, swallow... *brief pause* ... you know you can". Cue sprayings of beer from Tourettes, while Legless proceeded to turn purple in the face at the ensuing mess of beer, snot and general bewilderment of the rest of the bar.

Second time was after an afternoon's walking in the hills, where we had decided to get a bit *ahem* frisky. it was a nice day, plenty of trees... you get the picture. Anyway, the usual procedure on the way back, text Legless and meet in the Tap for a pint. We get there, Legless and gf are already onto their third pint or so. Grabbing a pint we sit down with them, exchange pleasantaries and they ask what we've been up to.

"Just got back from Thrunton", says I, raisng my eyebrows at the missus. "Yeah", says she, "we had a bit of al fresco luuurve. In fact, watch me pint Davros, I'm just nipping away to drop the children off at the pool".

Legless clicked straight away and started pissing himself laughing. Unfortunately, he too had just taken a gobful of beer. Catching someone mid-slurp with a well timed innuendo is one of life's little joys, I always thought...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 13:42, Reply)

Too Much Information
A friend of mine who worked as a nurse was one of those people who just couldn’t stop talking and frequently gave us too much information. Highlights included the time we all went out for a meal at a nice Italian restaurant. Half way through eating pasta she says she’s not hungry – she’d done an autopsy earlier that day and the pasta reminded her of the insides she’d pulled out of the body. Not sure what the guy had done to himself to turn his insides to pasta but it still kind of puts you off your food.

However one night I went out with her, her boyfriend and a load of her female mates. Stood at the bar with her she commented on my choice of drink with “that’ll make your cum taste nice later.” I’m not the most alert person when it comes to people making a pass at me and assumed she'd decided to share some random medial fact with me. Later sat in a bar, her boyfriend asleep in the corner, she starts telling about how when she’s been taken from behind she likes to imagine it’s someone else. OK fair enough; too much information when she turns to me, (in front of all her mates) and says “often I think of you.”

This being B3ta should mean I continue with a story of how I responded by demonstrating my sexual prowess. However in reality there was a very awakward silence and I didn’t know where to look. Also I had the image of her and her boyfriend shagging stuck in my head (and now years later it's there again and will be everytime I read this in my profile; so thanks for clicking I like this and moving it to the top of my profile..…….)
(Rev O'Lucian will unfortunatly age on, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 13:25, Reply)

I was talking to my mum about one of my friends...
I've known him pretty much since birth, so we've had baths together and things. One of my earliest memories is of him defecating on his living room floor, but thats another matter...Anyway, the discussion somehow revolves around to these bath times, and my mum finds it relevant to reveal, that at the tender age of around 8 months old, my mate had a bigger winkle than I did. Thanks, mum.

I still see him every so often, but whenever I do that thought crosses my mind. My mum has no idea about the male complex about cocks.

This was further evidenced after she burst into my room shortly after I'd had a shower...I didn't realise she was there, and only when I went downstairs did she casually mention that I was "bigger than my dad".

She should have just asked her friend that lived down the road...she thought it was big enough...
( Mr.Ons knows you can hear him, Earthmen., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 13:11, Reply)

Jamie and his magic bat
Point of order - isn't a colonoscopy specifically a camera up the bum? No doubt there's a proper name for a camera up the willy (knoboscopy perhaps?), and I'm sure my mate would know as he had to have just that very procedure to investigate his chronic willyache.

He described that to us all and that definitely fell into the TMI category.

As did another mate's description of the infection which set in after his vasectomy. Descriptions of pus-infected stitches, and putrid holes in the nutsack through which testicles were clearly visible did not sit well with convivial social drinking.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 13:00, Reply)

Several involving my ex-girlfriend
But I can't say the worst ones, because we're still friends and she would kick the everliving shite out of me were I to post them. So a quick rundown on the lightest TMI's she did.
1) As a result of having Crohns' disease she now has an ileostomy bag. She takes great pleasure in showing people this within about three seconds of meeting them
2) Once, at a family meal at a restaurant, I offered to share some of my prawns. She said "sorry, last time I had those my poo turned that colour" and pointed at my mother's lurid green brooch
3) After about three weeks of us starting to go out, I began to be given full details of her periods. A running commentary, if you will.
Finally, and I'm not too sure about posting this one, but I figure I can match her frankness
4) Not long after getting out of hospital with the ileostomy bag she came to visit me at uni and there was an ... accident, at about 5 am. Naturally, she was mortified by this, but I sorted it by throwing out the soiled things, letting her carry on sleeping on my other clean things, then staying awake so I could be at the shops immediately as they opened so I could buy replacement bedclothes. That was all fine. The TMI came when she was speaking about this to my Mum, who heard all of the details, including how X had woken up to feel liquid poo dripping down her side

The real story I want to post is this one, though, and doesn't involve the ex. This happened when I was about 12. My best friend at the time was a fair bit better off than I was, and his family occasionally took me to the theatre with them on a school night, and I'd stay the night afterwards. This was one of those nights.
In the car on the way home he was being an arse to his mum. Kept on asking her for ridiculously expensive things for his birthday. Wanting to know if she'd cook him something when we got back to their house. Asking her to stop at the pizza place to get a takeout. Being, as I said, an arse.
This caused his mum to get more and more irritated, and it reached a certain critical mass where she said, in a terrifyingly calm voice "Would you like to know how I found out I was pregnant with you?"
"Erm... yes." My friend said.
"Well," she said, "your dad liked to have sex with me especially when I was on my period. And when I didn't come on for ages, we had to get checked up"
My friend shut up, and barely spoke for the rest of the evening. So I played on his Nintendo and beat his high scores and was glad I wasn't him.
The best bit? The kid was ginger, and was thereafter always known as Red by those in the know. And thanks to me, there were quite a few people in that position.
( Dave the Mighty, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:53, Reply)

It's All Balls
Being an honest sort of chap I've often shared just a little too much information with work colleagues (I won't call them mates as there's only a couple of people at work I'd like to shag and none of them are in my department). Consequently I have regaled colleagues with lurid descriptions of three different colonoscopy procedures (that's a camera up the willy for those fortunate enough never to have had one) and a camera up the bum, complete with Picolax powered cleansing. That bloke on the cycling forum speaks the truth, let me tell you.

Recently I needed to go into hospital for an operation on my knackers. Removal of growths from the cobblers to be precise. I've had issues with the HR section at work previously (they treated me like sh*t so I kicked their arses up to their shoulder blades) so I made it clear that I would be keeping a diary of the whole event, including pictures.

Damn thing got infected, didn't it? Swelled up. Four weeks off work with sore bollocks is not pleasant, so when I returned, anyone who asked got the story in glorious technicolour...

"Here's things a few hours after the operation. See the extensive bruising and swelling on the testicles and the penis. Deep Purple on my CD player, Deep Purple between my legs."

"This is where the swelling got to its worst. For reference there's my hand around Lefty. You can see how big it is. And here's a cricket ball in comparison. Look at the two. Both have a shiny side and both have a seam."

At that point people usually retreated from my presence, looking a little green.
(Jamie and his magic bat You can bump n' grind, it is good for your mind, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:29, Reply)

A London Underground track maintenance worker
once advised me not to pick up a human head by the hair "because it just pulls out. Especially the older ones."
I didn't want to clarify whether this meant heads of older people, or heads from older accidents.
( Farmer Geddon - is on his way., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:21, Reply)

my friend telling me about sex a few years ago...
"it's like sticking your cock into a slimey wet hole! It's rough"

thanks mate.... it's a wonder he didn't turn out to be gay (as far as I know)
(Foulkesy123 The one and only..., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:20, Reply)

her name was kelly
it was late at the festival, everyone had left and as stewards it was our job to hoard everyone towards the exits in a human chain. as we near the dance tent she started what can only be described as trying to beat up an unknown assailant.
"you alright there"
"yeah i just miss dancing, miss the pills. havnt done any in 3 months"
"oh nice one! why'd you give up"
"i was pregnant, but i had a misscarraige"

nice.

sorry about length, it was the unformed arms and legs that left me disgusted tho. someone must have given her thalidomide instead of E. those druggies!
(bacneman, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 12:01, Reply)

I went round to pick up my girlfriend
as I walked through the door I heard her landlady having a row with her son
"No Matthew, I am not ready to go out yet"
"Aw, why not?"
"Because I am having a period and I am bleeding from my vagina and it smells and I need to take a shower"
(bald old git was bemused and befuddled on, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:36, Reply)

my friend started telling me about how he had sex, in graphic detail

so I put my hands over my ears and started going "la la la la la can't hear you", like this:



seriously - too Munch information.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:35, Reply)

Women’s directions

Ok so you turn out of your drive right, no, no wait left, no right definitely right. Follow the road until you see a field with cows in it or sometimes a horse that I always think looks really sad, then turn left where there is quite a big tree. Go down that road, I don’t know what it’s called, go along, keep going, through some wiggerly bits and then a straight bit where there is the sweetest little cottage on the left hand side, it’s got this sweet little thatched roof and is covered in wisteria, or is it honeysuckle I can never remember which one was which. Once when I was on holiday I met this guy who seemed to be really nice, he was a waiter and I think his name was Paulo and we were in Spain or Egypt I forget, all these places look the same. Anyway he didn’t really speak any English but told me how beautiful I was and how the stars reflected in my eyes, then he tried to touch my foof and I said “No Paulo that’s wrong I’m only 13” anyway there was some honeysuckle there that night.

So yeah go past the cottage and you get to a roundabout and you need to get off at the exit that everyone else goes down. Follow that road until you see a wedding shop with the beautiful dresses, there was this one once that was all silky and had pearls on it, that’s the kind I want when I get married, maybe I’ll give Paulo a call hmmm…… anyway turned left at the traffic lights its signposted London or Bristol I can’t remember then I am a little bit up on the left, how far? About the same time it takes to whisk egg whites into stiff little peaks. Cool can’t wait to see you! Oh you’re coming from that direction ok let me think…….

That was too much information, the correct answer was right on B3342, left onto A456, right onto high street left at first traffic lights and the house is 500 yards on the left.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:18, Reply)

Why did I leave my last job?
My last job involved working as the IT nerd at a school. Part of this job involved checking the e-mail filter when it has caught e-mails involving language that doesn't quite meet appropriate standards.

Some of the things the students got up to were rather eye-opening. Especially the ones involving other students. A bit of classroom sexytime is not unusual in this day and age, but it was the first all-girls school I'd ever worked at.

Mind you, my 15-year-old 'prentice quite enjoyed it.
(Chewy Walrus says: It's slobberin' time!, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:15, Reply)

Not so much TMI
but the fool signed his own pisstake warrent for a year.

A chap I had lessons with for Alevels went to hospital one day with abdominal pains. Could be a number of things so he's in there overnight.
He comes back in the next day or day after and walks across the room making a fake crying noise, along the lines of a squealing pig.
"What's wrong with you?"
Long story short he described his examination by a doctor.
"Well he made me turn onto my side and stuck a finger up my bum."
Not exactly a horrible story (judging by other posts) but WHY the hell would you tell a bunch of 16/17 year olds you just got your puckered loaf pincher penetrated by a 50 year old Indian?
It's just a shame the best man didn't ask around for tales to tell at his wedding.
(tweebianmonkey Should be known as Widget, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:13, Reply)

Parents and orgasms
So far neither of the parents has managed to explain why they got divorced (and it's been over 30 years) so in an effort to get some background detail we got mum drunk last Christmas.

Since she can drink like a navvy and still maintain snag froid this was no mean feat. Nevertheless we persevered and before too long had got her to an acceptable level of inebriation. What followed turned out to be TMI for me and way, way too much TMI for my sister.

So when the question of why they broke up was raised she still refused to say exactly but came out with the following:

"Your father and I always agreed we wouldn’t discuss it but put it this way – if I'd have slept with him before we married you two wouldn't be here. I didn't have an orgasm until 1979."

My sister's jaw dropped but sadly I was too pissed to stop the next question slipping out.

"What mum, you mean to tell me masturbation wasn't invented then."

At this point is a black hole in the ground had opened up my sister would have slid into it with nothing more than a grateful whimper.

"No," mum replied.

Then, the final piece of TMI.

"But I tell you what – I've had more since turning sixty then I've ever had in my life before."

Pass the brain bleach please.
(paxvobiscum, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 11:10, Reply)

Tch Parents
So there I was merrily minding my own business when my dear ol' ma comes in teary eyed. Being the caring sort of chap I am (and I am indeed a caring sort of chap) I asked her what was wrong. Turns out it was the back-end of some argument she had had with my step-dad. Anyway it moves on from there and Mum is going through all the things that she is struggling with and them comes out with an absolute corker of:

"we haven't slept together since before we got married and I need sex. I am a sexual woman"

What the heck am I supposed to do with that? That is not what you need over your toast and tea. Thing was, all I did was ask how she was and what was wrong, not for a detailed description of .... that!



Next one was a friend of mine's dad. We had gone back to his at about midnight before he wandered up to mine for all sorts of beer/film/computering activities (nothing weird). We went upstairs where his bedroom was opposite his parent's one. His mum, having opened the door (the muppet forgot his key) had wandered back there in her nightdress and was talking to me about something. My mate asks if she can cover up as its not appropriate cos I am there. His dad, lounging in bed, then replies to this "well I'm not wearing anything" and then pulls back the duvet to reveal that yes, he is in fact wearing nothing. I'm not sure if he expected us not to believe him or something, but there was really no call for visual proof.


Oh, and another mate's dad once enlightened us all round the dinner table that when my mate and sister has been out for the weekend at their grandma's him and his wife had been going at it all the time and that the dog had come in and licked his arse crack. The very same dog that is currently licking my hand.



No comments about length please - my mother might decide its time for another revelation *shudders*
(McMosha is clockwatching at, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 10:42, Reply)

I have always wondered...
...Why do people demand more information, even when you tell them they wont like it, and then complain that you gave them too much when you tell them?
Like, for instance,when I came out of an exam, needing a major shit. So I decided to go to ye olde water-closet (lest I soil myself later in the day) and arrived late to History. Naturally, I was quizzed as to my reasons as to why I was late.
"You don't want to know." I replied. But one girl in the front kept pressuring me as to why, my response only feeding her curiosity.
"Right, I came out of the exam, right, and I needed to take this massive shit..."
I was stopped before I could describe in great detail.
Distracted the entire class for the rest of the period. She kept complaining throughout that I had given her "too much info", but common consensus was that it was her own damn fault.
( Green Spanner and his magical lack of activity, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 10:15, Reply)

Hot off the press…
My mate FD just will not learn…below is the actual transcript of a conversation I have just finished with him on MSN…

FD: so, swallower of camels spizzle, are we on for tonight?
ME: I didn’t ask – I’ve been busy
FD: Busy doing fuck all
ME: Fuck me, you’re up early? Is your bed on fire?
FD: I’m doing chores, I’ve gotta wash my sheets for tomorrow*
ME: Oh sweet jesus
FD: i've actually got bloodstains on the pillows from last time
Me: Christ
FD: Ooh though, I’ve just been watching some top jap lezzy porn
FD: they're not into shaving them japs u know
FD: big rugs down below
FD: but rude
Me: I support the performing arts in all of it’s facets
FD: anyway i'm off for a shower. im sitting here dripping spludge all over the sofa

mmmf

TMI? - Fucking tell me about it! I have to put up with this on a daily basis!

*(this refers to an earlier post)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 7 Sep 2007, 10:12, Reply)

Flatmate tales
One of my flatmates at uni was gay (will call him H cos he's now a rozzer, go figure). Our rooms were next to each other so did hear much more than I really needed to, but at the same time it was probably just as bad the other way round so was never too fussed about it.

There were two stories about H which i'll always remember.

1. The time he went to a party, was chatting up this guy he thought was straight (more for kicks than anything) and then woke up 6 hours later to find the same bloke going at it hammer and tongs. Turned out he'd Rohypnoled (sp?) him!!! What was TMI was that far from being pissed off H decided that he actually quite fancied the bloke and let him get on with it. Not really what you want to hear on a Sunday morning.

2. H lived in London and to make a bit of extra cash in the holidays decided to perform erm... favours for rich middle-aged closet city types. Telling us this with so little shame was bad enough, but he also told the story about how one time he went to this hotel room to be greeted by a 40 something bloke in an expensive suit. The guy then handed him suspenders, bra, high heels, the whole shabang and told him to put them on. H then walked up and down the room in front of this bloke who just sat, fully clothed, watching him - not even touching himself. After exactly one hour the guy gets up, says thank you, and paid him.

Having already managed to alienate most of the pub during the telling of this story the icing on the cake came when an obviously pissed off H finished it by saying
"and the worst part was I didn't even get any cock action!!!"

I still love you mate, but Christ...
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 10:11, Reply)

TMI mum
My old mum was (and still is) honest to a fault. Some years ago when she was going into hospital for a couple of days I asked her what was wrong. If it had been me I'd have been somewhat economical with the truth but not old fucking George Washington there. She could not tell a lie. "It's a prolapsed womb, Ramsay. It means my uterus is protruding from my vagina."

Well, I suppose it was my own fault for asking.
( Ramsay Tupper, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 9:00, Reply)

Christmas Cards
A recap of the past year, enclosed within each cheery holiday card, is the perfect time for TMI.

Last year, one relative offered: "Merry Christmas. Although not so much for us this year because my husband's leg has a blood clot."

Several years ago, a cousin, about 20 times removed, wrote to say: "It's been a rough year, ever since the infidelity."

Of course, I'm guilty too. Last year, I wrote about my favorite statement of the year, told to me with absolute frankness and ambiguity: "I'm not gay, but I do have an instrument."
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 7:26, Reply)

Mates, eh?
In a crowded pub beer garden my mate told the story of his first ever lads holiday to Shagaluf. The conversation had already been quite rotten and some of the other patrons were giving us evil eyes. We didn’t care. We were being hilarious and if they didn’t like it they could fuck off. My mate decided to up the ante.

He was sharing a room with a mate, a double bed in fact, and had gone home early because he was knackered. About an hour later he was woken to the sound of his mate entering the room with a very pissed female companion.

“Ere, we can’t do it with your mate there.”
“Don’t worry about him, he’ll sleep through everything.

They proceed to get into bed and rut like horny pigs. She’s moaning and he’s grunting and my mate is trying to shut the whole thing out.

“I’m nearly there.”
“Oi, don’t cum in me.”
“Don’t worry sweet heart.”
“I mean it, don’t fucking cum in me.”
“Your alright sweetheart, I’m… I’m…I’m…”

It’s at this point my mate feels a hot jet up his back. He wasn’t happy.

Cue a lot of disgusted people making a rather noisy exit from the beer garden.
(Creamy Discharge Freeze Motherstickers, this is a fuck up, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 7:16, Reply)

Guilty secret...
I always think of excellent QoTW answers, just slightly too late. You could have had the story about trying to keep a straight face at a funeral while singing about "arrows of desire" that to my mind look like wobbly purple willies, but no. I was too damn late. Sorry, all.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 7:06, Reply)

Thanks Dad
A guy I know was staying with an old friend of his once, when the friend and his father got into an argument. It apparently started off fairly civilised, but somewhere along the way it descended into a full-on slanging match, with both of them yelling as loud as they could at each other while my friend sat somewhat awkwardly in the corner.

The argument finally ended when, after the kid had called his father a "fat old useless bald cunt" (or something along those lines) the father came back with "Oh yeah? Well you were the product of a premature ejaculation!"

The son had no idea how to respond to it, and stood there gaping while the father smugly strode off and my friend pissed himself laughing.
(oball needs Satan more than he needs me, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 6:02, Reply)

TMI on the Nile
Working in Egypt and having a couple of days to spare before we had to fly to the Rig the crew, (four of us) were stuck in Cairo at the company staff house. Bored, we went downtown, bought rakes of beer, a couple of chickens, Arabic Bread, solicited the services of some flighty young women and contracted a felucca for a Nile Cruise and picnic.

As the evening wore on, the girls proved that “yea, verily” they were up for anything. It all became a bit off a blur after some weed (supplied by the felucca’s captain) and the proper floating restaurants were getting quite an eyeful with their meal.

One of the ladies was performing her best solo on my pink oboe, the others were displaying skill’s obviously not learned at school, when not very unexpectedly I popped my load.

Getting up and pulling the zip closed I headed for more beer…returning to see one of our crew kissing the same delicate damsel who had just claimed my hot meal.

Watching the amorous couple, waiting until it was obvious that there was plenty of tongue action I announced “ Mikey, you just got a blowjob by proxy”

The stunned Mikey disconnects himself, asks for more information which was duly supplied.

Said Mikey runs to the side of the felucca, woof’s his cookies and never spoke to anyone for the rest of the evening.

Definitely TMI.
( fagilliD Fuck I'm good!, Fri 7 Sep 2007, 5:06, Reply)