» Gambling

An egg too far
Many years ago, on the way home from a night on the sauce, my friend Ollie suggested that, instead of the customary bag of chips, we should go for the three-egg-challenge. That is, for the uninitiated, three Cadbury's Creme Eggs at the same time. And no chomping until they're all in.

So we stop off at the corner shop and I go first, in the misguided hope that this is going to impress our rather cute blonde friend, C. One, two, three, in they go.

"That was easy" I splutter, or rather "thaaawaassshhheezzii".

"Bet you can't do four" Ollie replies, the cock.

Alcohol, lust and chocolate conspire inside me and I accept this ridiculous challenge. To a reticulated python or professional fluffer, it might have been a possibility. I am neither and this is not going to pretty.

"Such a thing has never been done before" says the shopkeeper in his best Apu-impression. But I am undeterred. I shove the fourth one into my gob and stagger triumphantly out of the shop just as the back egg explodes and spluffs a huge load of fondanty goodness down the back of my throat, immediately followed by similar spunkifications from its three fellows

As I leave the shop, a car pulls in alongside me - "Scuse me, mate can you tell me how to get to XXX?".

I lean terrfiyingly into the car. With my horrible, distended mouth, I look like Wallace after an extended session of bukkake and coprophagy.

"Nnneeexxxrrrighpaaaasshhtthepaarrk" I honk, dribbling chocolate between the comely norks of the girl in the passenger seat. They drive off fast.
and I wave them off, cackling like a mong.

No, it didn't impress C. either.
(Fri 8th May 2009, 12:29, More)

» Public Sex

Fuck off, Dog!
So, here we are, on a rug on a hillside, lovely sunny day, myself and the beautiful-but-bonkers gf at the time. Looking down the hill we have a cracking view of a well-known university town. We are cuddling, kissing, her hand goes down south...then her head.

‘Oh goody’ I think – an alfresco blow-job.

There are people on the hill, but mostly coffin-dodgers and kite-flying children. Both sets are a long way away and I am confident, given the expert tounge-lashing that the old chap is currently rec eiving, that matters will be brought to a sticky conclusion before either of them poses a problem.

Then I notice the dog.

About twenty yards away, stupid stick in mouth. Staring at us. With his cocking head on one side.

‘Fuck off, Dog’ I mouth, pathetically gesturing at him to do so.

Inevitably he comes closer. And closer. My partner is unaware of the danger, presumably interpreting my spasmodic thrashings and muffled obscenities for some pre-climactic frenzy. This is awful. Thirty seconds ago, my whole brain was focused on how much I am going to enjoy my imminent spaffing into this lovely young lady’s mouth. Now an increasingly large percentage is taken up with how I can make this furry voyeur go away, and an even larger percentage with how wrong it is to have an erection when looking into the eyes of an animal.

Eventually, feeling horribly horribly dirty I shoot my load. The dog, now practically sitting next to us, looks disappointed – perhaps disapproving. He fucks off, at last, the bastard. My partner, swallows, wipes her mouth, sits up and winks at me roguishly. I feel weak.
(Thu 23rd Apr 2009, 15:51, More)

» I hurt my rude bits

An easy mistake to make...

A few years ago, the nice young lady I was fornicating with asked me if I wanted to change at Baker St*, flip her over and play her B-side etc..

Previous girlfriends had definitely NOT been into such naughtiness and I enthusiastically agreed. "You do have lubricant?" she whispered, "Oh yes." I replied, knowing full well I didn't, at least nothing conventional. No KY, no vaseline, no lemon curd, nothing. So I blundered off to the bathroom, looking for a substitute: Toothpaste? Too minty. Daktarin? Too weird. Massage oil? Bingo! I rushed back, greased myself and her up and commenced arse banditry.

You know where this is going. The massage oil was tea-tree based. After a few seconds I noticed my cock getting warm, which obviously I ignored. Warm turned to hot turned to fucking excruciating and at the point when I felt I was about to burst into flames, I pulled out and ran screaming into the shower.

Rather gallantly, the lady in question waited her turn (her ringpiece must have been agony) whilst I scrubbed and scrubbed and sobbed like a little girl. Then she said "next time I'll bring the lube."

And she did! Happy days.

*ie change from the Hammersmith and City to the Bakerloo line.
(Tue 18th Jul 2006, 10:05, More)

» Sticking it to The Man

Oi Teacher!
A friend of mine who is now a teacher (and therefore The Man) had it stuck to him by his pupils.

In a former life, he had worked for a think-tank, writing incredibly boring treatises on EU Law and the like. One of these was available on Amazon.

Now that his delightful little charges have found this out, there are a huge number of "must try harder" type reviews all over his one and only published volume. And some less printable reviews obviously, the little shits.
(Thu 24th Jun 2010, 0:54, More)

» I'm glad nobody saw me

The shame...
Many years ago in an excellent South Indian restaurant in Drummond Street, I had just tucked into my masala dosa, when I felt the urge to pee. I took myself up the stairs, entered the gents, and unzipped over the nearer of the two urinals. Midway through my flow, a businessman type came in, looked at me with utter disdain, and made his way over to the other urinal. I returned his stare coolly, until he looked away, unable to withstand my withering gaze. Then, flushed with my petty triumph, I finished up and looked for the sink to wash to my hands – only there didn’t seem to be one.

It was at this point I realised that the urinal I had been pissing into was altogether wider and rounder than is normal. It also had taps. And a plug.

Oh bugger!

I did what any super-suave superstar would do – ran downstairs, paid the bill and fled into the street. I haven’t been back
(Fri 28th Jan 2011, 16:02, More)