Profile for Reverend Fister:
Am I a reverend who fists, or a fister of reverends?
I would tell you, but I prefer to remain an enigma.
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- a member for 19 years, 10 months and 17 days
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Am I a reverend who fists, or a fister of reverends?
I would tell you, but I prefer to remain an enigma.
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Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Neighbours
My old mum and dad, RIP.
My old mum and dad are sadly no longer with us, but this is one of my favourite stories involving them.
I used to live in a tenament flat in Edinburgh. A big solid looking building, but sadly the walls between flats could have done with an awful lot more insulation - especially between the bedrooms, if you get my drift.
My next door neighbour seemed a pleasant enough girl. I didn't see too much of her, but she always said hello on the stairs. However, she started seeing a guy who was a bit of a prick. He'd double park his car if he couldn't park within 5 yards (literally) of the front door, played loud music at all hours of the night, slammed the front door as he went in and out of the flat - you get the idea.
The loud humping, initially anyway, was slightly entertaining. Every night for a fortnight was getting a bit much - especially as he seemed to work shifts and 5:45am on a Tuesday morning seemed a popular time for making my lightshade swing - firing clouds of dust over my sadly unaccompanied form, whilst I was forced to listen to her taking a pummelling.
My mum and dad were coming up to see me one weekend. They were going to have my bed for the night, and I was going to kip on my living room floor.
I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
I hoped to Christ that she'd have the painters in that weekend, but I had to prepare for the worst.
Sunday morning arrived, and my mum came through to the living room.
[important point: my mum was always quite naive regarding 'downstairs' activity]
'Sleep ok mum?' I enquired.
'Not bad son, but I was woken up by a heck of a racket at one point.'
'Oh, really?', I enquired, cacking it slightly.
'Yes, I heard a baby crying really loudly, and lots of banging - like someone running up and down the stairs. I haven't a clue what was going on.'
At that point, my old man appears.
'Hi dad, sleep ok?' I ventured.
'Not really, that pair next door were at it like a pair of friggin rabbits all night. Does the girl ever sleep? She must walk like a cowboy.'
A mouthful of coffee squirted up my nose.
Mum didn't have a clue what he was on about. To the day she died, I don't think she ever twigged what the 'crying baby' noises really were.
(Wed 7th Oct 2009, 14:30, More)
My old mum and dad, RIP.
My old mum and dad are sadly no longer with us, but this is one of my favourite stories involving them.
I used to live in a tenament flat in Edinburgh. A big solid looking building, but sadly the walls between flats could have done with an awful lot more insulation - especially between the bedrooms, if you get my drift.
My next door neighbour seemed a pleasant enough girl. I didn't see too much of her, but she always said hello on the stairs. However, she started seeing a guy who was a bit of a prick. He'd double park his car if he couldn't park within 5 yards (literally) of the front door, played loud music at all hours of the night, slammed the front door as he went in and out of the flat - you get the idea.
The loud humping, initially anyway, was slightly entertaining. Every night for a fortnight was getting a bit much - especially as he seemed to work shifts and 5:45am on a Tuesday morning seemed a popular time for making my lightshade swing - firing clouds of dust over my sadly unaccompanied form, whilst I was forced to listen to her taking a pummelling.
My mum and dad were coming up to see me one weekend. They were going to have my bed for the night, and I was going to kip on my living room floor.
I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
I hoped to Christ that she'd have the painters in that weekend, but I had to prepare for the worst.
Sunday morning arrived, and my mum came through to the living room.
[important point: my mum was always quite naive regarding 'downstairs' activity]
'Sleep ok mum?' I enquired.
'Not bad son, but I was woken up by a heck of a racket at one point.'
'Oh, really?', I enquired, cacking it slightly.
'Yes, I heard a baby crying really loudly, and lots of banging - like someone running up and down the stairs. I haven't a clue what was going on.'
At that point, my old man appears.
'Hi dad, sleep ok?' I ventured.
'Not really, that pair next door were at it like a pair of friggin rabbits all night. Does the girl ever sleep? She must walk like a cowboy.'
A mouthful of coffee squirted up my nose.
Mum didn't have a clue what he was on about. To the day she died, I don't think she ever twigged what the 'crying baby' noises really were.
(Wed 7th Oct 2009, 14:30, More)
» The worst sex I ever had
Perhaps not the worse, but definitely the weirdest....
I'm quite a normal bloke when it comes to the naughties, and thought that as I reached my (cough) mid-30s I'd probably seen and done all that I ever would do.
Wrong.
Away on my team's annual trip to Lancashire last year, me and my room-mate copped off with a couple of ladies from the local boozer.
Incidentally, mine was an absolute corker - only 19 years old, with pneumatic breasts and a washboard stomach. A first year law student no less. Crikey!
We invite the girls back to our hotel room for 'drinks'. Upon arrival, my one wastes no time and promptly strips off and climbs into my bed. Slightly stunned, I follow suit - leaving my mate and his lady somewhat lost for words. They eventually strip off and climb into his bed, which is just 18 inches from my own.
The lights go off, nature takes its course, and we start to get down to business. However, the sound of my mate porking his (somewhat overweight) bedfellow was frankly putting me off my stroke. Try as I might (admittedly alcohol had probably also played a part) I just couldn't get the Little General to stand to attention.
Being the gentleman that I am (my mother would be so proud) I proceeded to satisfy my partner using a variety of methods, before we fall asleep.
Waking up the following morning, assuming that the evening's events were nothing more than a magnificent dream, I realised that it was all very very real. Now with the General fully up and saluting, and wishing to make amends for my previous failure, I grabbed my lady and dragged her off to the bathroom where I made up for lost time over the sink.
We return to Lancs in August. Click on 'I like this' if I should request a single room this time!
(Fri 15th Jun 2007, 15:35, More)
Perhaps not the worse, but definitely the weirdest....
I'm quite a normal bloke when it comes to the naughties, and thought that as I reached my (cough) mid-30s I'd probably seen and done all that I ever would do.
Wrong.
Away on my team's annual trip to Lancashire last year, me and my room-mate copped off with a couple of ladies from the local boozer.
Incidentally, mine was an absolute corker - only 19 years old, with pneumatic breasts and a washboard stomach. A first year law student no less. Crikey!
We invite the girls back to our hotel room for 'drinks'. Upon arrival, my one wastes no time and promptly strips off and climbs into my bed. Slightly stunned, I follow suit - leaving my mate and his lady somewhat lost for words. They eventually strip off and climb into his bed, which is just 18 inches from my own.
The lights go off, nature takes its course, and we start to get down to business. However, the sound of my mate porking his (somewhat overweight) bedfellow was frankly putting me off my stroke. Try as I might (admittedly alcohol had probably also played a part) I just couldn't get the Little General to stand to attention.
Being the gentleman that I am (my mother would be so proud) I proceeded to satisfy my partner using a variety of methods, before we fall asleep.
Waking up the following morning, assuming that the evening's events were nothing more than a magnificent dream, I realised that it was all very very real. Now with the General fully up and saluting, and wishing to make amends for my previous failure, I grabbed my lady and dragged her off to the bathroom where I made up for lost time over the sink.
We return to Lancs in August. Click on 'I like this' if I should request a single room this time!
(Fri 15th Jun 2007, 15:35, More)
» Too much information
Just a few weeks back...
On my team's annual trip down south, we'd spent the first night hosing down ale and chatting up the local lay-dees.
One of the lads, Scottie, had been talking some drunken bollocks to a hefty, overweight, pot-ugly, 40-something divorcee. She looked like a burst couch.
Anyway, Scottie wasn't quite drunk enough to shag her, but took her phone number, and the evening ended without incident.
The following night, Scottie is howling drunk, and his standards have obviously slipped somewhat, but his friend is nowhere to be seen. A crowd of us are stood at the bar, when he whips out his mobile and phones the lady in question.
His side of the conversation, bellowed loudly across the bar in an semi-agressive Scottish tone, went along these lines....
"I'm imaginin' that I've just been in yer bathroom fer a pish, and I come into yer bedroom and yer bent right ower yer bed and I jist charge in and take you right up the shitebox...."
Well you can imagine the reaction. Anyone stood within 5 yards of me was covered in 2nd hand Stella. Incredibly, she didn't hang up!
I didn't enquire as to whether he managed to fulfill his fantasy but I'm sure he would have told us if he had.
Definitely too much info.
(Thu 6th Sep 2007, 16:08, More)
Just a few weeks back...
On my team's annual trip down south, we'd spent the first night hosing down ale and chatting up the local lay-dees.
One of the lads, Scottie, had been talking some drunken bollocks to a hefty, overweight, pot-ugly, 40-something divorcee. She looked like a burst couch.
Anyway, Scottie wasn't quite drunk enough to shag her, but took her phone number, and the evening ended without incident.
The following night, Scottie is howling drunk, and his standards have obviously slipped somewhat, but his friend is nowhere to be seen. A crowd of us are stood at the bar, when he whips out his mobile and phones the lady in question.
His side of the conversation, bellowed loudly across the bar in an semi-agressive Scottish tone, went along these lines....
"I'm imaginin' that I've just been in yer bathroom fer a pish, and I come into yer bedroom and yer bent right ower yer bed and I jist charge in and take you right up the shitebox...."
Well you can imagine the reaction. Anyone stood within 5 yards of me was covered in 2nd hand Stella. Incredibly, she didn't hang up!
I didn't enquire as to whether he managed to fulfill his fantasy but I'm sure he would have told us if he had.
Definitely too much info.
(Thu 6th Sep 2007, 16:08, More)
» PE Lessons
A wee pearoast to start....
2nd year PE.....
We were playing rugby.
A large, speccy, nerdy type received a pass. He spotted a gap amid the throng of juvenile bodies, and hit the accelerator. This was going to be his big moment - a try of all things! He was no longer going to be a nerd, but a sporting legend!
Strangely his opponents appeared somewhat reticent in tackling him, and he ploughed on towards the try line.
What he had failed to realise was that his cock had flopped out of his shorts as he bombed towards the aghast defensive line, scaring the bejesus out of all before him. No wonder no one attempted to 'tackle' him.
(Fri 20th Nov 2009, 10:13, More)
A wee pearoast to start....
2nd year PE.....
We were playing rugby.
A large, speccy, nerdy type received a pass. He spotted a gap amid the throng of juvenile bodies, and hit the accelerator. This was going to be his big moment - a try of all things! He was no longer going to be a nerd, but a sporting legend!
Strangely his opponents appeared somewhat reticent in tackling him, and he ploughed on towards the try line.
What he had failed to realise was that his cock had flopped out of his shorts as he bombed towards the aghast defensive line, scaring the bejesus out of all before him. No wonder no one attempted to 'tackle' him.
(Fri 20th Nov 2009, 10:13, More)
» Parents
My old mum and dad, RIP - a repost.
My old mum and dad are sadly no longer with us, but this is one of my favourite stories involving them.
I used to live in a tenament flat in Edinburgh. A big solid looking building, but sadly the walls between flats could have done with an awful lot more insulation - especially between the bedrooms, if you get my drift.
My next door neighbour seemed a pleasant enough girl. I didn't see too much of her, but she always said hello on the stairs. However, she started seeing a guy who was a bit of a prick. He'd double park his car if he couldn't park within 5 yards (literally) of the front door, played loud music at all hours of the night, slammed the front door as he went in and out of the flat - you get the idea. The loud humping, initially anyway, was slightly entertaining. Every night for a fortnight was getting a bit much - especially as he seemed to work shifts and 5:45am on a Tuesday morning seemed a popular time for making my lightshade swing with their energetic pummelling.
My mum and dad were coming up to see me one weekend. They were going to have my bed for the night, and I was going to kip on my living room floor. I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
I hoped to Christ that she'd have the painters in that weekend, but I had to prepare for the worst.
Sunday morning arrived, and my mum came through to the living room.
[important point: my mum was always quite naive regarding 'downstairs' business]
'Sleep ok mum?' I enquired.
'Not bad son, but I was woken up by a heck of a racket at one point.'
'Oh, really?', I enquired, cacking it slightly.
'Yes, I heard a baby crying really loudly, and lots of banging - like someone running up and down the stairs. I haven't a clue what was going on.'
At that point, my old man appears.
'Hi dad, sleep ok?' I ventured.
'Not really, that pair next door were at it like a pair of friggin rabbits all night. Does the girl ever sleep? She must walk like a cowboy.'
A mouthful of coffee squirted up my nose.
Mum didn't have a clue what he was on about. To the day she died, I don't think she ever twigged what the 'crying baby' noises really were.
(Wed 8th Jun 2016, 14:48, More)
My old mum and dad, RIP - a repost.
My old mum and dad are sadly no longer with us, but this is one of my favourite stories involving them.
I used to live in a tenament flat in Edinburgh. A big solid looking building, but sadly the walls between flats could have done with an awful lot more insulation - especially between the bedrooms, if you get my drift.
My next door neighbour seemed a pleasant enough girl. I didn't see too much of her, but she always said hello on the stairs. However, she started seeing a guy who was a bit of a prick. He'd double park his car if he couldn't park within 5 yards (literally) of the front door, played loud music at all hours of the night, slammed the front door as he went in and out of the flat - you get the idea. The loud humping, initially anyway, was slightly entertaining. Every night for a fortnight was getting a bit much - especially as he seemed to work shifts and 5:45am on a Tuesday morning seemed a popular time for making my lightshade swing with their energetic pummelling.
My mum and dad were coming up to see me one weekend. They were going to have my bed for the night, and I was going to kip on my living room floor. I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
I hoped to Christ that she'd have the painters in that weekend, but I had to prepare for the worst.
Sunday morning arrived, and my mum came through to the living room.
[important point: my mum was always quite naive regarding 'downstairs' business]
'Sleep ok mum?' I enquired.
'Not bad son, but I was woken up by a heck of a racket at one point.'
'Oh, really?', I enquired, cacking it slightly.
'Yes, I heard a baby crying really loudly, and lots of banging - like someone running up and down the stairs. I haven't a clue what was going on.'
At that point, my old man appears.
'Hi dad, sleep ok?' I ventured.
'Not really, that pair next door were at it like a pair of friggin rabbits all night. Does the girl ever sleep? She must walk like a cowboy.'
A mouthful of coffee squirted up my nose.
Mum didn't have a clue what he was on about. To the day she died, I don't think she ever twigged what the 'crying baby' noises really were.
(Wed 8th Jun 2016, 14:48, More)