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This is a question Unexpected Nudity

There you are minding your own business, looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when suddenly... SURPRISE TODGER!

Tell us just how un-erotic unexpected encounters with nudey people can be.

(suggested by wanderingjoe)

(, Thu 28 May 2009, 13:32)
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Serenity & Fishing...
My mate John has got the hairiest balls in the known universe. The locals on the Planet of the Apes would scratch their simian heads, take a look at John’s hirsute knacker-wrapper and say: “Fuck me, that fella’s got the hairiest set of plums I’ve ever seen.”

Not that I actively seek out a quick shufty at John’s scrote, far from it. But John’s just one of those fellas who likes getting his cock out at weddings, christenings, and other social occasions for the amusement of others. He really should’ve been on Britains Got Talent; his Speedo afro would’ve got my vote over Susan Boyle any fucking day.

One time we were fucking about doing a bit of fishing in the Lakes. Nice day. Sunshine. Ladies walking about in their bikinis – a sudden and impromptu cold breeze which turned their nipples into diamond-hard bullets for the appreciation of a couple of perverts like John and I.

Then something amazing happened.

John caught a fish.

A big fucker.

It was green and wet (that’s about as far as my knowledge of fish goes, I’m afraid).

After we’d stopped flapping about like a couple of girls, we landed the fucker and John, being the lover of nature that he is, twatted the poor fucker over the head with a mallet and lobbed it in his cool bag. Then, as the excitement dies down and we return to sitting on the side of the lake dangling our fishing rods into the still, lucid water, I start to feel a sense of utter serenity wash over me. Fishing – not really my thing, but I’ll try anything once. And now, with the cool breeze washing in over the lake and kissing my face, I start to understand what fishing’s all about.

Its about peace. Its about quiet contemplation.

“Spanky,” I hear next to me, as if from many miles away. Feeling particularly tranquil, I turn my head and see-

- John, stood with his jeans and grundies round his ankles, his hands holding the dripping fish out in front of him. The tip of his tiny cock jiggling round the entrance of the fishy mouth. “Blowjob! Blowjob! Blowjob!” said John, in a weird two-tone police siren kind of way.

The King of Comedy strikes again.

And then something utterly bizarre happened.

The fish, which must’ve only been stunned from John’s rather effeminate malletting, started flapping about like a motherfucker and clamped its gob down over the tip of John’s member of Parliament.

John screamed.

I screamed.

John ran round a bit, trying to detach the fish from his bell end. His arms were flapping about now, the fish dangling like an ornate piece of body jewelry, clamping down hard, determined not to let go.

Naturally, being a mate, I just fell about and pissed myself laughing.

Then, after a little more inter-species-dance-mania-erotica, John slipped on the sheer muddy lakeside and fell into the water with all the grace and poise of a fat bastard with a fish attached to his cock.

Naturally, I laughed a bit more.

Eventually, John returned from the depths, covered in stinky pondweed and fish poo. And the fish had made good its escape, disappearing back into the murky water.

I helped the twat out of the lake, “Well, at least that thing was an improvement on your last girlfriend, mate.” I said.
(, Mon 1 Jun 2009, 12:01, 6 replies)
That poor fish will probably require counselling.
Once the sexual abuse compensation committee are finished with the Catholic Church over here, I'll have them give your mate John a call, shall I?
(, Mon 1 Jun 2009, 12:19, closed)
Did anyone else think
"Hi, I'm Troy McClure"?
(, Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:09, closed)
Ahh, things are back to normal!
It's about time. Many clicks for this post.
(, Mon 1 Jun 2009, 14:41, closed)
*Click* for the
John caught a fish.

A big fucker.

It was green and wet
(, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 1:43, closed)
But when will I learn? NEVER be eating food when you're reading Spanky's stories - you either end up with an unswallowable lump (ooh er), or end up spending half an hour cleaning semi-masticated food off the monitor...
(, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 10:10, closed)
"hirsute knacker-wrapper"

Oh, and *clicks*, inevitably
(, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 10:57, closed)

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