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» My sex misconceptions

"I bought your SNES by being pounded in the ass, son."
Apologies for length in advance.

I was 13 and living in a block of flats. At that age, I was the first to own a Mega Drive and our house had pirate cable, so my 11-year-old friends in surrounding flats would always come by and visit. One night, my mum says she's going out and suggests my friends stay for the night. My friends came over and as it got late, flicked through the pirate cable and found the porn channel. Partially because I didn't want to objectify women - at that age, anyhow - and partially because I thought a bunch of boys in the same room finding the same thing arousing was a bit gay, I hid in the kitchen and heated up some pizza. What I didn't see I definitely heard as the boys turned the volume up.

There was a storyline for whatever was on - two ladies were reminiscing on how they took advantage of anyone who'd come round to their house and bother them when they were all horny and alone - first, a guy who's coming round to borrow milk, then someone who's coming round to fix the TV, they both get laid by women whose orgasms sound like air raid sirens.

Now, being the eldest, I was seen as the "wise old sage" of the group. I'm also proud to be a fucking jerk, as far as winding people up goes. I pointed out to the boys as I brought in the pizza that I didn't need to see the show. They laughed and asked why. I only had to bring up Kerry.

Kerry, aged 14, was the girl who lived opposite to our flat, with that girl next door beauty too - she was lusted over by every boy in the room, myself definitely included.

"She comes over all the time when you lot are here, wanting to borrow something," They all nodded, because they often saw her coming to my place to borrow things while they played the Mega Drive. "Why do you think it's always Kerry that comes over to ask and not her mum or dad?"

The television was muted. Jaws dropped. Pieces began to click.

As we ate pizza, I explained that the terms "borrow some milk" and "fixing your TV" were sex-slang. The former was said by some horny person wanting to get naked and play around with someone else, and the latter was a type of drive-by prostitute, who, at a moment's notice, would answer the call and fix libidos instead of TVs.

This affected two of my friends.

Friend #1 - Kerry goes to his flat for milk, and he's home alone - he can't believe his luck. He lets her in, and as they turn a corner, he makes his move - he shoves his tongue down her throat and squeezes her tits. She screams, slaps him and leaves. He told me as soon as he felt her reaction he knew I'd made it up, but he also said that at least he got one up on me because he'd "felt her tits and they were like big fluffy clouds". They definitely looked like it. Lucky bastard.

Friend #2 - I didn't know that the dad of one of these friends was going to become a TV repairman two weeks after the pizza night. For his dad's first week on the job, he came home to lots of weird questions. Imagine this dialogue:

Friend: "Are the ladies pretty, the ladies whose TVs you repair?"
Dad: "Sometimes, though I'm usually repairing TVs for men. They miss not having a working TV more than women, you know?"

That answer literally broke my friend's mind.

He had a little breakdown in front of all of us the next time he came round to my place. He wouldn't believe me when I told him I'd lied earlier, he thought I was trying to console him. I next saw him two months later. That night, he had gone home and taken a knife to his dad's van's tires. When asked why he did it, he explained to his parents he didn't want his dad sleeping around any more. Two months grounded for that.

My family and his never got on so well after that. He also tried to steal my friends after he got a Super Nintendo at Christmas, but they only time they were invited over, they poked fun at his console, bought with "your dad's prossie money".
(Tue 30th Sep 2008, 20:49, More)

» "Needless to say, I had the last laugh"

The Spanish Balloon
My family (my mother, my sister and myself) all travel to Spain for a family holiday. I'm 5 at the time, my sister 11, just coming up to her 12th birthday. At one point during an afternoon outing my sister grabs my shoulder and tells me we're going to sit by a fountain. As most 5-year-olds do, I asked why. Sister tells me that mum actually hates me and we were waiting for someone to come along and adopt me, and this is the spot my new family told us to wait at.

I took this in for a minute... where did mum go? Did she really hate me? It was all too much and I began to cry.

Even worse, sis had a camera. Photos were taken. She told me that I should cheer up and smile, else nobody would take me and I'd have to live on the streets. As I wailed louder at the tragedy of it all, she just kept snapping away.

Five minutes later, mum shows up. She'd gone to use a bathroom in a local restaurant. She laughs at me and calls me a silly plonker. She takes me to a tatty souvenir store so I can buy some junk and so she can stop my crying.

For a reason I don't understand, I chose what can be described as a primitive stress ball - a purple balloon filled with some squishy powder inside it to make it malleable, with a face drawn on it with a silver pen. Tacky, cheap and nasty - but it was heaven for a kid - I had fun warping its face and shape and punching it in the face and seeing my fist indentations. My sister was pissed off that I got a treat and she didn't.

Spring forwards a few weeks, to my sister's 12th birthday party. She'd managed to round up most of the cool kids from senior school, including one guy she had a massive crush on. Anyway, they eventually get to the presents. Remembering how sad she was that I got one and she didn't, I try to give her my malleable balloon-faced Spanish toy. The group heard the tale from my mother of how this toy came to be mine and she got a few looks of scorn for her mean trick, one from cool crush-guy. Sis was kinda livid at me, especially after the group d'awwwed at my attempt to make my sister happy. I was gatecrashing her party.

She screams out loud to the group to get the attention off of me, "This is ugly and stupid and a baby toy!" She grabs it and twists it firmly with both hands in anger, as if she were trying to snap it.

But it didn't just snap. It exploded with a delightful noise, like the sound of a cushion hitting the floor. And whatever that powdery stuff was inside the balloon, it hit her flush in the face. Party was abandoned as she flew into a rage and had to take a shower to get the mess off of her.

But not before mum took a picture of her like that to go next to my crying pictures in the family album.
(Sun 6th Feb 2011, 9:53, More)

» School Naughtiness

The Professional
In Year 7, just starting in senior school, I hung out with the creative kids at our school. I did it primarily because of one girl, with long blonde hair and gorgeous eyes and a love of dark humour and sarcasm. She introduced me to On The Hour. She was wonderful.

I heard she was being picked on by an alpha male bully, who was a stocky lump of troglodyte. He was the tallest and heaviest of our year. Anyone in our group wouldn't be able to take him in a fight, so we tried to keep out of his way. He had asked her out. She'd said no. He'd made her life difficult since then, tugging on her hair or pulling at her backpack as she walked past him in corridors, sending her teetering backwards, for his own amusement.

So, a week after I hear about the bullying, we have our weekly PE lesson - and as the weather's terrible and wet, what better sport to play than rugby outside? Me and Lump are on opposite teams. He's screaming at his team if they don't pass to him and he's running through our team for fun; being a good half-foot taller and several stones heavier, nobody could stop him. In the conventional way, anyhow.

With a few minutes to go of the match, he's only got me between himself and the goal line for another try. He smirks and leans down to smash into me, sensing with my slender frame he might be able to snap me in half. He didn't know I intended to avenge the torture my first crush had endured.

I slide out of the way like a bullfighter, and as he goes past he straightens back up, jogging to the goal line. I've turned and I'm just behind him after four giant strides. Both feet get off the floor and my right foot extends as I put every pound of force into a Charlie Brown all-or-nothing kick, and it hits right where I wanted, right into his bollocks from behind. I can vividly recall the sensation on the top of my foot as it crushed his grapes. He yelped and jumped a good eighteen inches off the floor in shock and had managed to contort into the foetal position before he even hit the ground.

I will never feel as masculine as I did, leaning over his writhing body, at any other point in my life. Three weeks of detention? It made the story even more exciting to the kids in my year. In the end, puberty spurts for most of us meant the bully was less of a menace to our year. I still didn't get the girl. I did, however, earn the nickname Léon from my religious studies teacher.
(Sat 10th Sep 2011, 11:11, More)

» Biggest Sexual Regret

First Time Trauma
Both I and the lass in question had never discussed it until that evening, but as we were getting naked together for the first time - a few months into the relationship - we found out we were both still virgins.

Within thirty seconds of being inside her, I saw she was bleeding a lot more than I expected a girl would for her first time. I pulled out, nervous I'd been hurting her. She asked what was wrong, then saw the blood seeping from her and over my groin and over the bedsheets and freaked out.

She tried to get to her shower to clean up but fainted at the sight of her own blood, taking the full weight of the fall on her nose, breaking it in the process. Had to get her delirious self dressed and take her to the hospital. Had to answer lots of awkward questions about how she ended up in that condition. She blocked my phone number when she got out; embarrassed by the evening.

I felt I'd rushed sex. I'd wrecked a great friendship. I regretted it for ages. Took four years and waiting for the right person to feel it was OK to try to have sex again.

Me and the gal bumped into each other about six years after the incident. We went to a pub and we caught up over a few drinks.
Quote of the evening? Her summary of the relationship:
"The relationship kinda fell flat on its face that night, didn't it?"
(Fri 9th Dec 2011, 11:49, More)

» Devastating Put-Downs

Wii Fat
Wii Fit comes with what is referred to as a Balance Board. One of its features is to weigh the player so they know if they're losing weight doing the in-game exercises. The board, like traditional scales, has a weight limit: about 150 kilograms, or 330 pounds.

A particularly unfriendly fellow, as repugnant as he was round - he was like a mouldy pumpkin - makes an expletive-laden entrance, silencing the store I work in.

Having a British accent in America makes me The Problem Resolver, and I am pushed in front of him. The customers in the store turn to listen, some more obviously than others.

I start with monosyllabic words, "What's wrong, and how can I help?"
"The fucking board won't pick up my weight! You sell crappy products! I want to know what you going to do for me so I can play this game!"
"Well, we could get you another balance board."

His swearing and unpleasant attitude has gotten him what he wants. He sneers at me, and replies, "That's a start - but I'm not leaving until you guarantee the second board will work."
"Oh, they both work fine. No, your problem is you're too fat for the game."

He is frozen rigid by this and the crowd stifles their collective laughter, some more obviously than others. I continue.

"But! You can buy a second board, put it next to the first, stand on both of them, and distribute your weight between them. Then you'll be able to play the game just fine!"

The laughter from the crowd helped usher him out.
(Tue 29th Nov 2011, 6:49, More)
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