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)
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)
« Go Back
There is only one word for it – and it is “Yeeeeeooooooowwwww!”…
I used to go out with a girl who didn’t really like me. Now, of course there’s an element of understanding here – I wouldn’t want to go out with me either – but she seemed to persistently treat me with the kind of hearty disdain you’d normally reserve for peado Nazi kitten-rapists. Suffice to say, we were at the point in our short ‘relationship’ that meant we were just ambling through the motions on the verge of the inevitable break up…a break up that she seemed to be welcoming amongst her ‘special friends’ with openlegs arms.
As part of this ‘going through the motions’ process, she had still come to watch my band perform our particular brand of atrocious craptitude in front of a paying, yet ‘blissfully unsuspecting of our impending shiteness’ public. This time we were at a small working men’s club, in a quaint little middle-of-fucking-nowhere village called Birdingbury.
Surprisingly, despite the fact that we were pathetically piss poor purveyors of puerile pop-pap, we began to experience a modicum of success amongst this blatantly entertainment-starved bunch of inbred mutants. Right from the off, people were dancing, cheering and drunkenly enjoying the proceedings.
What quickly became of interest to us however as the night went on, was the fact that amongst our obviously deluded audience was a bevy of quite stunningly succulent young ladies who were making no secret of the fact that they had graduated with honours from horniness school, and seemed fizzing at the flange for some band-related, ‘dirty lurve’ action.
One fine filly in particular had started the night sat on the right hand side of the dancefloor; and when I glanced over to her, she faced me and crossed her legs…making it perfectly clear to the band and I that under her obscenely short skirt she had neglected to slide her scuddies on before venturing out that evening. As a gentleman, I decided to take it upon myself to aquire full advantage of this situation. Upon establishing eye-contact, I nodded in appreciation.
She then stood up and joined her friends on the dancefloor, and put on a display for us all that made your average ‘dirty dancing’ seem more like ‘tame-arsed twatting about’.
I could not cget over how 'forward' this girl was…in the middle of the next song, she brazenly approached the stage, smiled, then started fondling my frisky phallic fruitbowl under my guitar in clear (and jealous) view of everybody!
I was astounded….Aroused, and very, very smug, but astounded nonetheless.
My girlfriend, however, did not seem to care one jot about this public display of affection by this girl – her attentions were somewhat distracted by trying to insert her entire body into the mouth of the club landlord of all people…who resembled Grizzly Adams’ Hairier uncle. Despite my anger at her, I still had to call time on my nwe 'number one fan’s activities…after all I was a professional…*ahem*.
I slowly moved back, she took the hint and went back to her seat.
After our first set, the band and I left the stage and slumped awkwardly towards the bar. At which point the girl, (I should apologise here and state that I never got to find out her name) made a beeline for me. There was no stopping her now…
“You’re lovely…would you like to come outside with me for a minute?” She asked seductively.
If the Guiness book of records had been there, they surely would have witnessed the fastest ever ‘yes’ answer in history.
She took my hand and led me outside. We had only just rounded the corner of the building when she pushed me against the wall and started kissing me in that over-emphasised, forceful, yet ‘faux-romatic’ way that late teens / early twenties folk do. Now, this was all very well and good, but with my meagre sexual experience at the time I was completely taken aback when with one swift motion, she planted her hand straight down the front of my grundies and started tugging away with such ferocity that I heard a ringing in my ears.
From the previous events of the evening I was already at half-stonk, so from the merest touch of her eager groping digits on my cock it had suddenly lurched into life, and within the blink of a hog’s eye I had gone harder than Chinese advanced algebra.
Thinking it rude to not reciprocate, I leaned forward gently then thrust my hand up her skirt to discover that the ‘hairy wink’ she had given me when she was sat down earlier was not an optical illusion, and her clopper was indeed a purely panty-free zone. However, as I delved further and established contact I encountered a slight twinge of disappointment, as I quickly discovered that she possessed a unkempt mott like a lorry driver’s breakfast. Sportingly, I still rummaged around, desperately probing amongst the various bits of dangling meat and dripping for any ‘sticky-out’ parts to flick at frantically like a boxer’s speedball.
She moaned appreciatively at this, and although I had established that this girl was not the ‘shy and retiring’ type, even I was surprised as she then proceeded to slowly drop to her knees, unzip my trollies, heave out my tadger and schlurp my monument of man-meat into her mouth like a hungry carthorse in a hotdog eating competition
Overwhelmed, yet incredibly turned on by the girl’s sheer audacity and deep-throat ability, I enthusiastically gyrated in time with the rhythmic back-and-forth motion of her head, letting my clockweights knock gently against her chin like a Newton’s cradle
Of course, I knew I couldn’t keep this momentum very long, and the spaff was bubbling within me like a gonad-gunk geyser . Eventually and inevitably…with a ‘shudder’ and an uncontrollable groan, I gurned my grimacing face skywards and exploded a gargantuan 'gland grenade' into her grateful and gaping gob. Watching her ‘gulp’ as she swallowed deeply was a glorious sight to behold…yet fate had decided I wasn’t going to be able to ‘savour the moment’…
No sooner had I began to experience the post-spurtage-whilst-standing-up ‘wobbly leg syndrome’, when I was clanged violently back into reality by the scornful screech of my girlfriend…who in a rare act of courtesy had gone looking for me, and who had turned the corner of the club just in time to watch me deliver both barrells of ballistic bollock brylcream into my admirers mouth, face and hair.
“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” She yelped – her face now etched with shock and contorted with rage.
Maybe I should have been braver…after all, she had fired into someone else that very night in front of me, but at that moment I didn't consider the multiple injustices she had made me suffer whilst we were together – all I felt was the sinking remorse of being rumbled…eyebrows deep in the overwhelming swamp of guilt that can only be achieved by being caught with your cock in another girl’s oesophagus.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry” I said, and I jerked back my hips to retract my dribbling dongler from the girl’s cake-hole. The girl remained on her knees – totally silent and still…moving only to wipe a few droplets of splooge that I had inadvertently shot into one of her eyes.
“I don’t believe this – you BASTARD!” My girlfriend shrieked. This prompted me into thinking that perhaps now was the right time for us to have the ‘we’ve got to talk’ moment…
But yet, I was flustered, with several emothions and panic running through my body. Quickly deducing that the first and most important thing to do was to put my knob away, I would give it a quick tuck then firmly whip my zip up with a swift tug...
My cock, however, had other ideas. It was still in a state of (now unnecessary) hardness and had obviously decided on it’s own that it was enjoying the open air and wanted to stay out to sniff it a bit longer…as a result of this it was not yet 100% back in my pants at point of closure…
*zip*…
…
“Yeeeeeooooooowwwww!”…
Time froze. To her credit, the girl stayed there...on her knees, as blood began to pour from my now ripped-to-pip, cheese-grated cock end.
With several ‘Oh my fucking GOD!’s cried out by everybody, the full horror of what had happened began to become clear.
Pulsating with agony and unable to communicate without bellowing various colourful expletives, I was on my way to the floor to crouch up into a pain-filled ball, when I heard a voice...
“Hold on, let me have a look at it” The girl on her knees said as I coyley recoiled.
“Jeeeessusss-fucking-Christ-on-a-cunting-unicycle!” I exclaimed, as she gently prodded at my crotch where blood was now seeping heavily…and the pain was excrutiating.
What happened then was truly remarkable. My girlfriend and this girl then shared a glance, and without a word being spoken, they seemed to decide that 'everything else could wait', and that the safety of my savagely slashed sex-stick was now the top priority.
Finally, the gobbling girl spoke: “My friend’s here tonight and she’s a nurse” she said quite calmly as she stood up “Let’s get him inside”…
With one arm around this girl and the other around my girlfriend I staggered along as they helped drag my battle-damaged carcass back towards the club.
We burst through the doors with blood still seeping from my semi-severed shaft, which was poking sheepishly through my trousers…the blood now intermingling with the last remaining droplets of spicy schlong salsa which I had involuntarily spaffed in the ensuing commotion.
Everybody turned round and saw me looking exhausted…with my arms round two girls…with one of them calling for her friend…with my mutilated member still hanging out, and with a nether-region caked in blood. What happened next was a mixture of gasps, dropped jaws…and then complete fucking hysterics (mostly by the band)
I tell you, In the sacred name of Billie Piper’s blessed butt-plug it fucking hurt like nothing on this earth.
As her friend (the nurse) approached I noticed that she was also as hot as hell – (just my luck!). However, my brief and blurry thoughts of the prospect of a 'ménage-a-trois' were quickly stifled by the fact that at this point my spam-javelin looked like it was trying to have a sympathy 'period', as bloodied lumps began to clot over my dishevelled salty stormtrooper.
I nearly collapsed as the mighty fine & foxy Florence Nightingale calmly called for the first aid box from behind the bar, then professionally released my potentially crippled cum-spitting cucumber from it's jagged zippy stranglehold, before administering an ample bandage to me in the corner of the room, watched by several hundred prying eyes. I began to feel faint as it became apparent that my blood supply had no idea where to go first – into my deeply embarrassed face?, into my diminished and deflated cock? (to hopefully give it a bit of manly pride-length), or just to simply continue spurting out of the gaping wound by my brutally butchered bell-end?...
In the end it tried all three. and failed.
Once patched up, the magic of the evening had understandably disappeared somewhat…and so had my girlfriend…yet I still had to go back on stage and 'perform'. For the whole time it was difficult to tell who was the more embarrassed - me, or the audience - but for the remainder of the gig I could barely look anybody in the face…not to mention how awkward it is to jig about and pretend like you're 'enjoying the music' when it feels like an atomic bomb has gone off in your shreddies, and you're actually petrified of moving...or even letting your guitar hang anywhere near your undercarriage (oh, and FYI, If you ever find yourself in this position, do NOT play 'foot-tapping' Beatles songs!). Unsurprisingly, the night was ruined for all...
We were subsequently not invited back.
In hindsight, my main worry now is how embarrassingly small my love lozenge shrank to under the ordeal...and this was at the single point when more people saw it all at once than at any other time I have ever experienced since.
Yet even today, when I glance down at my bellend when fully engorged, and the now (deceptively small) scar, I am reminded of 'what could have been' with that girlfriend, had those events not happened that night…
But all in all...I think it was worth it...a Lucky escape I reckon.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:03, 14 replies)
I used to go out with a girl who didn’t really like me. Now, of course there’s an element of understanding here – I wouldn’t want to go out with me either – but she seemed to persistently treat me with the kind of hearty disdain you’d normally reserve for peado Nazi kitten-rapists. Suffice to say, we were at the point in our short ‘relationship’ that meant we were just ambling through the motions on the verge of the inevitable break up…a break up that she seemed to be welcoming amongst her ‘special friends’ with open
As part of this ‘going through the motions’ process, she had still come to watch my band perform our particular brand of atrocious craptitude in front of a paying, yet ‘blissfully unsuspecting of our impending shiteness’ public. This time we were at a small working men’s club, in a quaint little middle-of-fucking-nowhere village called Birdingbury.
Surprisingly, despite the fact that we were pathetically piss poor purveyors of puerile pop-pap, we began to experience a modicum of success amongst this blatantly entertainment-starved bunch of inbred mutants. Right from the off, people were dancing, cheering and drunkenly enjoying the proceedings.
What quickly became of interest to us however as the night went on, was the fact that amongst our obviously deluded audience was a bevy of quite stunningly succulent young ladies who were making no secret of the fact that they had graduated with honours from horniness school, and seemed fizzing at the flange for some band-related, ‘dirty lurve’ action.
One fine filly in particular had started the night sat on the right hand side of the dancefloor; and when I glanced over to her, she faced me and crossed her legs…making it perfectly clear to the band and I that under her obscenely short skirt she had neglected to slide her scuddies on before venturing out that evening. As a gentleman, I decided to take it upon myself to aquire full advantage of this situation. Upon establishing eye-contact, I nodded in appreciation.
She then stood up and joined her friends on the dancefloor, and put on a display for us all that made your average ‘dirty dancing’ seem more like ‘tame-arsed twatting about’.
I could not cget over how 'forward' this girl was…in the middle of the next song, she brazenly approached the stage, smiled, then started fondling my frisky phallic fruitbowl under my guitar in clear (and jealous) view of everybody!
I was astounded….Aroused, and very, very smug, but astounded nonetheless.
My girlfriend, however, did not seem to care one jot about this public display of affection by this girl – her attentions were somewhat distracted by trying to insert her entire body into the mouth of the club landlord of all people…who resembled Grizzly Adams’ Hairier uncle. Despite my anger at her, I still had to call time on my nwe 'number one fan’s activities…after all I was a professional…*ahem*.
I slowly moved back, she took the hint and went back to her seat.
After our first set, the band and I left the stage and slumped awkwardly towards the bar. At which point the girl, (I should apologise here and state that I never got to find out her name) made a beeline for me. There was no stopping her now…
“You’re lovely…would you like to come outside with me for a minute?” She asked seductively.
If the Guiness book of records had been there, they surely would have witnessed the fastest ever ‘yes’ answer in history.
She took my hand and led me outside. We had only just rounded the corner of the building when she pushed me against the wall and started kissing me in that over-emphasised, forceful, yet ‘faux-romatic’ way that late teens / early twenties folk do. Now, this was all very well and good, but with my meagre sexual experience at the time I was completely taken aback when with one swift motion, she planted her hand straight down the front of my grundies and started tugging away with such ferocity that I heard a ringing in my ears.
From the previous events of the evening I was already at half-stonk, so from the merest touch of her eager groping digits on my cock it had suddenly lurched into life, and within the blink of a hog’s eye I had gone harder than Chinese advanced algebra.
Thinking it rude to not reciprocate, I leaned forward gently then thrust my hand up her skirt to discover that the ‘hairy wink’ she had given me when she was sat down earlier was not an optical illusion, and her clopper was indeed a purely panty-free zone. However, as I delved further and established contact I encountered a slight twinge of disappointment, as I quickly discovered that she possessed a unkempt mott like a lorry driver’s breakfast. Sportingly, I still rummaged around, desperately probing amongst the various bits of dangling meat and dripping for any ‘sticky-out’ parts to flick at frantically like a boxer’s speedball.
She moaned appreciatively at this, and although I had established that this girl was not the ‘shy and retiring’ type, even I was surprised as she then proceeded to slowly drop to her knees, unzip my trollies, heave out my tadger and schlurp my monument of man-meat into her mouth like a hungry carthorse in a hotdog eating competition
Overwhelmed, yet incredibly turned on by the girl’s sheer audacity and deep-throat ability, I enthusiastically gyrated in time with the rhythmic back-and-forth motion of her head, letting my clockweights knock gently against her chin like a Newton’s cradle
Of course, I knew I couldn’t keep this momentum very long, and the spaff was bubbling within me like a gonad-gunk geyser . Eventually and inevitably…with a ‘shudder’ and an uncontrollable groan, I gurned my grimacing face skywards and exploded a gargantuan 'gland grenade' into her grateful and gaping gob. Watching her ‘gulp’ as she swallowed deeply was a glorious sight to behold…yet fate had decided I wasn’t going to be able to ‘savour the moment’…
No sooner had I began to experience the post-spurtage-whilst-standing-up ‘wobbly leg syndrome’, when I was clanged violently back into reality by the scornful screech of my girlfriend…who in a rare act of courtesy had gone looking for me, and who had turned the corner of the club just in time to watch me deliver both barrells of ballistic bollock brylcream into my admirers mouth, face and hair.
“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” She yelped – her face now etched with shock and contorted with rage.
Maybe I should have been braver…after all, she had fired into someone else that very night in front of me, but at that moment I didn't consider the multiple injustices she had made me suffer whilst we were together – all I felt was the sinking remorse of being rumbled…eyebrows deep in the overwhelming swamp of guilt that can only be achieved by being caught with your cock in another girl’s oesophagus.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry” I said, and I jerked back my hips to retract my dribbling dongler from the girl’s cake-hole. The girl remained on her knees – totally silent and still…moving only to wipe a few droplets of splooge that I had inadvertently shot into one of her eyes.
“I don’t believe this – you BASTARD!” My girlfriend shrieked. This prompted me into thinking that perhaps now was the right time for us to have the ‘we’ve got to talk’ moment…
But yet, I was flustered, with several emothions and panic running through my body. Quickly deducing that the first and most important thing to do was to put my knob away, I would give it a quick tuck then firmly whip my zip up with a swift tug...
My cock, however, had other ideas. It was still in a state of (now unnecessary) hardness and had obviously decided on it’s own that it was enjoying the open air and wanted to stay out to sniff it a bit longer…as a result of this it was not yet 100% back in my pants at point of closure…
*zip*…
…
“Yeeeeeooooooowwwww!”…
Time froze. To her credit, the girl stayed there...on her knees, as blood began to pour from my now ripped-to-pip, cheese-grated cock end.
With several ‘Oh my fucking GOD!’s cried out by everybody, the full horror of what had happened began to become clear.
Pulsating with agony and unable to communicate without bellowing various colourful expletives, I was on my way to the floor to crouch up into a pain-filled ball, when I heard a voice...
“Hold on, let me have a look at it” The girl on her knees said as I coyley recoiled.
“Jeeeessusss-fucking-Christ-on-a-cunting-unicycle!” I exclaimed, as she gently prodded at my crotch where blood was now seeping heavily…and the pain was excrutiating.
What happened then was truly remarkable. My girlfriend and this girl then shared a glance, and without a word being spoken, they seemed to decide that 'everything else could wait', and that the safety of my savagely slashed sex-stick was now the top priority.
Finally, the gobbling girl spoke: “My friend’s here tonight and she’s a nurse” she said quite calmly as she stood up “Let’s get him inside”…
With one arm around this girl and the other around my girlfriend I staggered along as they helped drag my battle-damaged carcass back towards the club.
We burst through the doors with blood still seeping from my semi-severed shaft, which was poking sheepishly through my trousers…the blood now intermingling with the last remaining droplets of spicy schlong salsa which I had involuntarily spaffed in the ensuing commotion.
Everybody turned round and saw me looking exhausted…with my arms round two girls…with one of them calling for her friend…with my mutilated member still hanging out, and with a nether-region caked in blood. What happened next was a mixture of gasps, dropped jaws…and then complete fucking hysterics (mostly by the band)
I tell you, In the sacred name of Billie Piper’s blessed butt-plug it fucking hurt like nothing on this earth.
As her friend (the nurse) approached I noticed that she was also as hot as hell – (just my luck!). However, my brief and blurry thoughts of the prospect of a 'ménage-a-trois' were quickly stifled by the fact that at this point my spam-javelin looked like it was trying to have a sympathy 'period', as bloodied lumps began to clot over my dishevelled salty stormtrooper.
I nearly collapsed as the mighty fine & foxy Florence Nightingale calmly called for the first aid box from behind the bar, then professionally released my potentially crippled cum-spitting cucumber from it's jagged zippy stranglehold, before administering an ample bandage to me in the corner of the room, watched by several hundred prying eyes. I began to feel faint as it became apparent that my blood supply had no idea where to go first – into my deeply embarrassed face?, into my diminished and deflated cock? (to hopefully give it a bit of manly pride-length), or just to simply continue spurting out of the gaping wound by my brutally butchered bell-end?...
In the end it tried all three. and failed.
Once patched up, the magic of the evening had understandably disappeared somewhat…and so had my girlfriend…yet I still had to go back on stage and 'perform'. For the whole time it was difficult to tell who was the more embarrassed - me, or the audience - but for the remainder of the gig I could barely look anybody in the face…not to mention how awkward it is to jig about and pretend like you're 'enjoying the music' when it feels like an atomic bomb has gone off in your shreddies, and you're actually petrified of moving...or even letting your guitar hang anywhere near your undercarriage (oh, and FYI, If you ever find yourself in this position, do NOT play 'foot-tapping' Beatles songs!). Unsurprisingly, the night was ruined for all...
We were subsequently not invited back.
In hindsight, my main worry now is how embarrassingly small my love lozenge shrank to under the ordeal...and this was at the single point when more people saw it all at once than at any other time I have ever experienced since.
Yet even today, when I glance down at my bellend when fully engorged, and the now (deceptively small) scar, I am reminded of 'what could have been' with that girlfriend, had those events not happened that night…
But all in all...I think it was worth it...a Lucky escape I reckon.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:03, 14 replies)
Superb
A click for 'hairy wink'
Nearly got me rumbled, too much funneh
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:12, closed)
A click for 'hairy wink'
Nearly got me rumbled, too much funneh
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:12, closed)
way to dump your girlfriend...
...the rest made me eyes water tho.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:56, closed)
...the rest made me eyes water tho.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 13:56, closed)
you might say
you got away by the skin of your sheath!
great story btw
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 14:45, closed)
you got away by the skin of your sheath!
great story btw
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 14:45, closed)
Absolutely outstanding
I shall spend the remainder of the afternoon in awe of your epic alliteration-strewn tale, but with my legs firmly crossed and a tear (as in moisture, not a rip) in at least one of my three eyes.
Thankyou!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 15:51, closed)
I shall spend the remainder of the afternoon in awe of your epic alliteration-strewn tale, but with my legs firmly crossed and a tear (as in moisture, not a rip) in at least one of my three eyes.
Thankyou!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 15:51, closed)
Far too busy today to piss about on here in any meaningful way...
...but worth taking a few minutes out to read this.
Cheers, matey.
Top work as always.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:06, closed)
...but worth taking a few minutes out to read this.
Cheers, matey.
Top work as always.
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:06, closed)
Cheers matey...
I've hardly had any time to spare for B3ta fun over the past few weeks...
But my boss is off today - Woo!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:12, closed)
I've hardly had any time to spare for B3ta fun over the past few weeks...
But my boss is off today - Woo!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:12, closed)
Always nice, mate...
Unfortunately the summer is the busiest time for me (as opposed to the winter when I sit on my arse and think about you naked for most of the day).
Fucking bosses... fuck um... fuck um hard... REALLY HARD...
And then fuck um a bit more...
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:28, closed)
Unfortunately the summer is the busiest time for me (as opposed to the winter when I sit on my arse and think about you naked for most of the day).
Fucking bosses... fuck um... fuck um hard... REALLY HARD...
And then fuck um a bit more...
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 16:28, closed)
Oh my lord
Epic, hilarious and tragic.
Another fine piece of work
*click*
( , Tue 2 Jun 2009, 11:02, closed)
Epic, hilarious and tragic.
Another fine piece of work
*click*
( , Tue 2 Jun 2009, 11:02, closed)
Another amazing alliterative acheivement
"pathetically piss poor purveyors of puerile pop-pap";
"gonad gunk-geyser"; and
"gargantuan gland grenade" - amazing, one and all.
I also loved "hairy wink" - consider that taxed.
*click*
( , Thu 4 Jun 2009, 9:16, closed)
"pathetically piss poor purveyors of puerile pop-pap";
"gonad gunk-geyser"; and
"gargantuan gland grenade" - amazing, one and all.
I also loved "hairy wink" - consider that taxed.
*click*
( , Thu 4 Jun 2009, 9:16, closed)
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