» Food sex

Beware of pancake batter
When I was younger and experimenting, I made up a batch of pancake batter with a cup of warm water. The consistency was incredible, and I proceeded to slather it all over down there, and in the shower had a wank that was just exquisite. I remember thinking, "Wow, that was fantastic, like warm soft mud... This is a keeper; I'll be doing this again very soon."

Cleaning up was a bit of a bother, as I noticed that the stuff really sticks to body hair. Took quite a while, but I got it off, or so I thought. The next morning, I had these white spots on my sack, under the skin, some as large as cashews. I was perplexed, until I realized what had happened: I didn't get all the batter off the hairs, and at night as I slept, somehow it had moved down the follicles. I couldn't bring myself to actually try cutting them out, as I knew pain would be involved.

Well, that was over 12 years ago, and they're all still there. Once every few years one of the smaller ones will get pinched on accident, causing it to swell and "pop", leaking out the fluid and eventually a nice little ball of what is obviously white pancake batter. But otherwise, they don't hurt and are more of a novelty to anyone who sees.

Now I'm hungry for pancakes, cooked of course.
(Thu 6th Aug 2009, 16:43, More)

» Sexual fetishes

Mud fetishes
Mud has always been a complete turn on for me. I'm not talking about that crap where someone wearing boots walks around in it or gets it on their jeans, either. I'm talking about full naked completely-covered swamp creature mud.

My whole life I've been limited to digging in the garden and bringing it back into the shower for privacy, but there was this one time I'll never forget...

When I was about 15, I was staying with my father and a few of his business friends at a beach house on the Oregon coast. The house was at the end of a gravel road, with no other houses not blocked by trees. Next to the house was a wonderful swampy area, complete with thick mud and skunk cabbage, which creates a fantastic swampy smell. I'd had my eye on it for over a year as we'd rent this house.

My father and his friends decided to head up north to a larger coastal town for lunch, leaving me alone for the first time. This was it! It was a bit chilly outside, being the pacific northwest, so I grabbed the largest bowl I could find from the kitchen and went out and scooped it full of mud. Took it back into the upstairs shower and covered myself with it, all over. It was everything I'd hoped it would be (albeit a little cold). I sighed with happiness afterwards and turned on the taps.

A little air came out of the faucet, and then nothing. Tried the cold tap, and was also greeted by nothing. My brain did a quick "uh oh" and I visualized my father and his friends arriving home, with me covered in mud in a filthy bathroom, and no water. And no explanation except to come clean (so to speak) about my fetish.

I did the best I could with the towels and the water from the toilet tank, but still had quite a ways to go. Then I thought of it: the outdoor garden hose! I didn't want to muddy up the house, so I wrapped myself in one of the dirty towels and snuck out there to give it a try. Nothing. At this point I was starting to panic. But then I heard a sound...

The ocean! Right behind me was one of the biggest water sources I could think of! I dropped the towel and started running down the mostly deserted beach, approximately 100 yards, and lept into the chilly spring ocean. Cleaned myself off for the most part, and ran back to the house. Ah, good, the others weren't back yet. I grabbed up the dirty towels to hide them, and just then... the water in the shower came on! I quickly showered, cleaned the bathroom and threw the dirty towels and clothes into the washing machine with about 5 minutes to spare.

When my father and friends came back in the house, they found me reading a book, asking about their lunch and professing to a lazy afternoon without much going on. Dodged a bullet there for sure.
(Thu 22nd Oct 2009, 17:24, More)

» Darwin Awards

Well well well...
When I was just a kid, my folks had a big backyard. I used to take hours tugging lengths of water hose around, just to keep the stuff green. My father had the bright idea of installing a sprinkler system, and having a well dug in the backyard, where a pump could supply all the water needed, for free.

They worked on it for weeks, drilling deeper and deeper, with a sort of pulley attached to a weight that would drive some sort of boring bit into the ground.

Well, one day, my friends and I found out something cool. If you held on to the rope, someone else could tug on the other end, and raise you to the top, where the pulley was (approximately 25 feet in the air). Once up there, you'd grab the other rope, and be able to stay up there all by yourself, looking out over the other houses and backyards. It was pretty cool.

Here comes my turn, and I get tugged to the top. Due to a miscommunication with the ground crew, I wasn't actually holding on to the other rope when they let go. As I felt myself go into freefall, I grabbed at it anyway, but it didn't seem to slow me one bit.

I smashed into the ground and lay there, answering "urgle" to every question my friends asked me. They finally got my father out there, and he came out very relaxed with his evening drink in hand, and pretty much told me to walk it off. I must have been slowed a little bit by my attempt to grab the rope, because no bones were broken.

Once I finally got my breath back, I limped back into the house, and noticed I had the mother of all rope burns, all up and down my arm. It took probably a week for that to heal, with the bandage healing into the wound each time. I remember having to soak the thing every time I changed it, just to get the bandage to come off completely without tearing the new skin.

Good times, good times...
(Sat 14th Feb 2009, 0:34, More)

» Sticking it to The Man

If only you could really Trade them...
I work in the power industry, and it's amazing how eager a lot of trade magazines are to get you on their mailing list. I must receive about 10 different ones a month, but I never read them as they are mostly ads.

However, each one calls a couple of times a year to "verify my information so they can continue to send me their fantastic magazine". Since they never ask if I actually *want* to receive it, I just agree that yes, all the information is correct, and let them continue to send me magazines that I instantly toss in the bin, happy that they spent the postage and such wasting money on me.

Inevitably, they started asking if I would prefer to receive their lovely publication through email instead of in print, and I always tell them "no", just to stick it to them.
(Thu 17th Jun 2010, 23:05, More)

» Weird Traditions

Landmark quotes
My family and I used to go camping at the coast, about an hour and a half away. About 20 minutes into the trip, we'd pass this lovely little blue old schoolhouse, straight out of Norman Rockwell. At this point, somebody would always say, in regards to our next-door neighbor:

"Ted's sister used to be a teacher here. Can you believe she used to drive all the way out here every day?"

This continued for years, and even 20 years later I still say it.

Oh, and we always had the tradition of honking the horn and holding your breath going through tunnels.
(Fri 29th Jul 2005, 17:40, More)