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- a member for 17 years, 7 months and 12 days
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» My sex misconceptions
Adventures of a Teenage Scrubber...
I was 12 or so when my best friend told me that it was the sensation of a woman's pubes rubbing against your cock that made you jizz.
And that's why I spent at least an hour sitting in the bathroom rubbing my bell-end raw with a toothbrush.
It didn't work.
To my eternal shame, it was my sister's toothbrush... which I guiltlessly placed back on the sink after I gave up.
(Sat 27th Sep 2008, 8:29, More)
Adventures of a Teenage Scrubber...
I was 12 or so when my best friend told me that it was the sensation of a woman's pubes rubbing against your cock that made you jizz.
And that's why I spent at least an hour sitting in the bathroom rubbing my bell-end raw with a toothbrush.
It didn't work.
To my eternal shame, it was my sister's toothbrush... which I guiltlessly placed back on the sink after I gave up.
(Sat 27th Sep 2008, 8:29, More)
» School Trips
The special button
When we were about 15 we were sent on a school trip to tour HMS Illustrious which was docked in Portsmouth. Upon arrival we were duly split into groups and trundled in different directions around the ship.
When our group got to the bridge the spotty sailor in charge said we could play around as everything was off. Cue me discovering the best button on board: the one with the little plastic cover that you have to lift in order to press it.
Pretending I was about to launch a missile I lifted the cover, gave myself a suitable Thunderbirds-style countdown and pressed.
For a millisecond nothing happened, then it all went a bit crazy. Things started bleeping, alarms started buzzing and our guide went a bit pale.
The captain ran up to the bridge and we were all hurriedly escorted onto the deck. Turned out that some of the emergency buttons weren’t as off as they could have been and I’d just put the whole of the Naval Base, and therefore the whole of the British Navy, on red alert.
It seems that I’d found the equivalent of the ship's panic button.
Two things happen when you press the button. The first is that it sends a signal saying “we’re under serious fucking attack – help!” the second is that it starts up some super radar thingy that, if used on land, would have sterilised all the women in Portsmouth.
Surely, stopping the local Pompey chavs from breeding (and I say this as a local) would have been worthy of the freedom of the city… but no, we were escorted off the ship by armed guard and our school was banned on the spot from ever setting foot on board again.
As a postscript – it was a crappy ban. Three years later I was a journalist and the captain of Illustrious contacted our newspaper to invite one of us on a press trip to the Gulf. Guess who went…
Penis length is fine, I just can’t get anyone pregnant…
(Fri 8th Dec 2006, 2:43, More)
The special button
When we were about 15 we were sent on a school trip to tour HMS Illustrious which was docked in Portsmouth. Upon arrival we were duly split into groups and trundled in different directions around the ship.
When our group got to the bridge the spotty sailor in charge said we could play around as everything was off. Cue me discovering the best button on board: the one with the little plastic cover that you have to lift in order to press it.
Pretending I was about to launch a missile I lifted the cover, gave myself a suitable Thunderbirds-style countdown and pressed.
For a millisecond nothing happened, then it all went a bit crazy. Things started bleeping, alarms started buzzing and our guide went a bit pale.
The captain ran up to the bridge and we were all hurriedly escorted onto the deck. Turned out that some of the emergency buttons weren’t as off as they could have been and I’d just put the whole of the Naval Base, and therefore the whole of the British Navy, on red alert.
It seems that I’d found the equivalent of the ship's panic button.
Two things happen when you press the button. The first is that it sends a signal saying “we’re under serious fucking attack – help!” the second is that it starts up some super radar thingy that, if used on land, would have sterilised all the women in Portsmouth.
Surely, stopping the local Pompey chavs from breeding (and I say this as a local) would have been worthy of the freedom of the city… but no, we were escorted off the ship by armed guard and our school was banned on the spot from ever setting foot on board again.
As a postscript – it was a crappy ban. Three years later I was a journalist and the captain of Illustrious contacted our newspaper to invite one of us on a press trip to the Gulf. Guess who went…
Penis length is fine, I just can’t get anyone pregnant…
(Fri 8th Dec 2006, 2:43, More)
» Political Correctness Gone Mad
An important point...
The people who put your shopping in a bag at the supermarket checkout are called customer support officers or something similarly ridiculous.
This is something I discovered after the beautiful Indian lady loading up my bags overheard me say the following on my mobile:
"I'll be there in a minute, I'm just waiting for this packky girl to finish up..."
When making up your own job titles for people, do take care to think through all the alternative meanings.
(Fri 23rd Nov 2007, 3:18, More)
An important point...
The people who put your shopping in a bag at the supermarket checkout are called customer support officers or something similarly ridiculous.
This is something I discovered after the beautiful Indian lady loading up my bags overheard me say the following on my mobile:
"I'll be there in a minute, I'm just waiting for this packky girl to finish up..."
When making up your own job titles for people, do take care to think through all the alternative meanings.
(Fri 23rd Nov 2007, 3:18, More)
» Inappropriate crushes
Misplaced affection
Back at college I spent two years obsessing over a girl. We were good friends and there was even one opportunity when (she's told me since) that she would have let me pull her, if only I'd had the guts to ask. Instead I wussed it for the best part of 20 months.
However, on month 21 there came a day when I did pluck up the courage to ask. It came off the back of her positive response to the latest loving poem I'd drafted for her (fuck off - I was 17). Reaching deep within myself I announced that I loved her.
She was overjoyed. Gave me a hug and made me feel like king of the world... I felt superhuman. I could have done anything... right up until the moment she admitted that she'd been secretly enjoying the lady love with our good friend Rachel for well over a year (I'd often wondered why Rachel hung around so much).
And that, my friends, is how you crush a man's spirit. Tell you what though - got many a good wank fantasy out of the new scenario, so it wasn't all bad.
Forget length - think of two birds touching themselves up...
(Fri 29th Sep 2006, 6:13, More)
Misplaced affection
Back at college I spent two years obsessing over a girl. We were good friends and there was even one opportunity when (she's told me since) that she would have let me pull her, if only I'd had the guts to ask. Instead I wussed it for the best part of 20 months.
However, on month 21 there came a day when I did pluck up the courage to ask. It came off the back of her positive response to the latest loving poem I'd drafted for her (fuck off - I was 17). Reaching deep within myself I announced that I loved her.
She was overjoyed. Gave me a hug and made me feel like king of the world... I felt superhuman. I could have done anything... right up until the moment she admitted that she'd been secretly enjoying the lady love with our good friend Rachel for well over a year (I'd often wondered why Rachel hung around so much).
And that, my friends, is how you crush a man's spirit. Tell you what though - got many a good wank fantasy out of the new scenario, so it wasn't all bad.
Forget length - think of two birds touching themselves up...
(Fri 29th Sep 2006, 6:13, More)
» Shoplifting
Late enough?
Is it late enough in the week to mention a story slightly off topic? I've been holding it in for days...
When living in Kilburn a couple of years back I passed a Volvo on the way to work that had been put up on bricks and had the wheels nicked. A bad day for the car's owner, but I can see the appeal to some scrote in need of new alloys for his, erm, Volvo.
However, on the way back from work I was bowled over to see that during the day someone had come along and nicked the bricks that were holding up the car. Surely that's a new low. After all, we're only talking about 16 bricks or so. That's not even enough to build a decent outdoor BBQ.
(Wed 16th Jan 2008, 9:22, More)
Late enough?
Is it late enough in the week to mention a story slightly off topic? I've been holding it in for days...
When living in Kilburn a couple of years back I passed a Volvo on the way to work that had been put up on bricks and had the wheels nicked. A bad day for the car's owner, but I can see the appeal to some scrote in need of new alloys for his, erm, Volvo.
However, on the way back from work I was bowled over to see that during the day someone had come along and nicked the bricks that were holding up the car. Surely that's a new low. After all, we're only talking about 16 bricks or so. That's not even enough to build a decent outdoor BBQ.
(Wed 16th Jan 2008, 9:22, More)